Page 58 of To Charm a Dark Prince

She groaned in pain. “I give up. Stop. I’m done. Please. I’m not going to be your fucking punching bag.”

“Then fight back, girl.” He reached down and grabbed her by the front of her chainmail top. She let out a yelp as he dragged her back up to her feet. “Pick up your sword andfight me!”

No. That was it. She chucked her sword, sending it clattering against the wall. She stormed up to him. He wasn’t wearing his helmet. Which was good. Because then this was going to hurt more than it already was about to.

She rounded back and slapped him.

As hard as she possibly could.

His head turned with the blow, though she doubted she actually hurt him. And her hand stung like hell. But it was worth it.

Slowly, he turned his head back to her, those molten rusty eyes watching her with an unreadable expression. Maybe he’d rip her throat out. She waited for his rage. When it didn’t come, she squared her shoulders. “Two things.” She held up her hand and counted them off on her fingers. “One—don’t take your shit out on me. And two—don’t ever call me girl again.”

She stormed away from him. “C’mon, Eod. I need a fucking snack.”

The dog got up from where he had been lying down by the wall to watch the exchange and jogged after her.

Lunch. And maybe a stiff drink.

That sounded like a damn good plan.

* * *

Mordred stood there in the center of the training area and…quite honestly did not know what to do with himself.

She had struck him. And not only that, she scolded him like a child. He should be furious. He should belivid.He should be taking her to task as he would any other insubordinate creature. If she had been a villager, he would have snapped her neck.

Yet it was not rage that he felt coursing through his veins.

It was something else entirely.

Clenching and relaxing his fists, he tried to grapple with the undeniable sensation that was overwhelming him.

Because quite simply…

He did not know if he had ever desired anyone so badly before in all his considerable years.

And while he was strict, he could not help but admit that she was right to reprimand him. He had been unreasonable with her. He knew, though he loathed to do it…that he should apologize.

* * *

“You poor thing! Sit down, sit down. What did that rusted bastard do to you?”

Gwen smiled faintly at the metal cook as she walked into the kitchen. Gwen was limping a little. One of the times she had met the dirt abruptly had jarred her hip. That, coupled with the ride through the woods, and she was ready to curl up and sleep for a week. “Training. I’ll be fine.”

“Pah!” Maewenn was already rummaging around to make her food. Gwen hated being waited on—she wasn’t used to it—but she knew it gave the cook a sense of purpose to take care of people.

Eod certainly didn’t mind. The hound was already sitting obediently beside the cook, tail thumping on the ground, ears perked up and waiting for treats. Maewenn reached down and patted the dog before handing him a slice of cheese.

“I suppose you’re going to be spoiled rotten now, eh, pooch?” The cook ruffled the dog’s ears. “And I suppose you deserve it.” Maewenn gestured to a stool. “Sit, dear, let me make you something for your empty stomach. And fetch the whiskey to help the rest.”

“Thanks.” Gwen sat down on the stool with a groan. “Yeah, okay, he was rough on me.”

“Looks like he was sparring with you the same as he spars with the boys.” Maewenn huffed. “Never mind the fact you’re a fourth his size and a woman.”

“It’s more the fact that I’ve never picked up a sword before. Not a lot of need in modern-day America.” She shrugged. “I kind of appreciate the fact that he doesn’t go easy on me. I guess. But it definitely hurts.” She chuckled.

“I suppose.” Maewenn placed a plate of sausages, cheese, bread, and fruit in front of Gwen. It looked like heaven. “If you say so. Let me fetch that whiskey, eh?”

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