Page 30 of Love of the Bladed Dove (Drakaren #1)

“No sword, no more Little Dove.” He took a fighting stance, ignoring her hesitation. Clearly unconcerned that he just handed their captive a true weapon.

“And stop calling me that,” she grumbled, gripping the sword and squaring her stance. The name made her feel small, fragile—neither of which she had the luxury of being anymore.

Kain lunged, fast and without warning. Layla dodged just in time, the steel singing as it missed her by inches.

She stumbled, her pulse spiking. He came at her again, fast and relentless.

He didn’t ease up. Not even a little. On the third strike, she tripped and hit the dirt hard, the wind knocked from her lungs.

“I’m not Theron,” Kain said, towering over her.

“I’m not going to baby you. If this is all you’ve got, you’re going to be a liability tomorrow.

” Layla pushed to her feet and lunged at him, anger burning away the last of her hesitation.

She went on the offensive, striking again and again, but he dodged each blow with infuriating ease.

Her arms ached. Sweat soaked her back. But she didn’t stop.

“You’re trying to wound me,” Kain said, more serious now. “But you’re not trying to kill me.” Layla froze .

“You have to kill, Dove. If you hesitate in battle, you die. Or worse—your family does. Do you understand that?” His tone wasn’t mocking now. It was something else. Something earnest. She looked into his eyes and nodded once. “Good,” he said. “Then stop wasting time. Kill me.”

They trained for hours. He barked corrections, gave her advice, and pushed her harder than anyone ever had.

By the time she nearly dropped the sword from her sweat-slick hands, he raised a hand and called for a pause.

He grabbed two water pouches from nearby, tossing her one.

She downed it gratefully, her chest rising and falling like a battle drum.

It was the first time in days she felt truly strong.

“Sword,” he said, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, she handed it over.

“Oh… are we done already?” She asked, surprised to hear the faint disappointment in her own voice.

He didn’t answer right away. He turned from her, sliding off his leathers and sweat drenched tunic The muscles in his back rippled with the motion, and despite herself, her eyes traced the beads of sweat rolling down the ridges of his torso.

Her cheeks flushed hot, and she quickly looked away.

But when she glanced back, he was already looking at her.

That smirk again ever present. Damn it .

She braced herself for the taunt, but he only shook his head and laughed.

“If you want to be done, fine,” he said. “But I figured we could see how skilled you were with your hands. ”

Layla groaned at the innuendo. “You’re unbearable.” But she dropped into a stance anyway as he laughed.

They went at it again, bare-handed this time. She didn’t land a single blow. He was faster, stronger, more experienced. When he finally waved her off, she was panting and sore.

“Don’t underestimate your abilities or overestimate your strength.

That’s how you get killed,” Kain said, the usual smugness softened by sincerity.

“You’re too weak to wield a sword and don’t have the skills yet to properly win in hand to hand…

.But a knife? That you can wield. I’ve seen it.

” Before she could respond, he handed her a dagger.

She took a step forward, reaching for the offered dagger, eyes fixed on his.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she grabbed a second dagger from his thigh and pressed it to his abdomen, just hard enough to nick the skin.

His eyes widened, then narrowed with what could only be described as pride as a real smile spread across his face.

A quiet moment passed between them. The kind that hummed with respect and something else—something unspoken.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Layla jumped. Theron’s voice tore through the air like thunder.

She turned and saw him stalking toward them, rage carved into every line of his face.

Only then did she realize just how close she was to Kain—still holding the blades, his sweat still glistening between them.

She took a large step back. Kain remained unfazed, still looking down at her, his familiar smirk back in full force.

“Thank you, Kain,” Layla said softly. “I mean it.” He winked, then bent to grab his leathers, tunic, and sword before starting to walk away.

Kain!” she called out, holding up the daggers. “Here— ”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Keep them, Dove. You’ll need ‘em.” And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there between fury and fire. Between two very different men.

Theron .

Theron hadn’t seen Layla all morning, and that absence clawed at him more than he cared to admit.

The air was thick with the storm rolling in, and a strange pressure had been building in his chest since dawn.

He’d spent the better part of the morning sharpening blades and checking supplies, anything to distract himself from the fact that he was still horrified with himself for pushing her too far last night.

But when he finally spotted her in the Circle, locked in heated sparring with Kain, his blood ignited.

He watched as she lunged toward his brother, a fierce determination in her stance that Theron hadn't seen before. She was drenched in sweat, hair clinging to her temples, and yet she moved with silent precision, swift and striking. Theron’s eyes narrowed.

What the hell is Kain thinking ? She’s not supposed to be out here.

Theron’s nostrils flared as he stalked toward them, a violent tension tightening beneath his skin—not just at Kain, but at himself for not anticipating something like this.

Kain never followed rules, never cared who he dragged into his chaos.

And Layla? She should’ve known better. She was too valuable, too untrained, too… fragile.

But as he closed in, the clouds tore open, spilling a torrent like nature’s own outcry.

Rain came down in thick sheets, soaking him to the bone within seconds.

He didn’t care. He no longer focused on his disdain for his brother but on the woman who was now clearly pissed at him just feet away.

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, taking a deep breath as he closed the distance between them.

She lifted her chin as he neared, but didn’t say a word.

But that boiling anger seemed about to burst from within her.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt any more than you already have.” He fumbled with the words, but they were the truth. He only just wanted her safe.

“He was helping me. Teaching me. Why the hell is that a problem!?” She hissed. Rage seeping out with every word.

“You don’t need it! I will keep you safe!” Theron responded. Layla’s face shifted from indignation to bewilderment. Then he noticed her shoulders soften and her eyes shut for a moment before kindness met his gaze.

“I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe. But I can defend myself. Kain really gave me some great pointers with a sword…” Theron started shaking his head and cut her off before she could continue. He didn’t need Kain getting her killed.

“A sword is awkward in your hands. You’re too small. You will lose balance too easily…You will die.” Theron pleaded with her. Wanting her to hear him. He didn’t want her to go tomorrow with some obscene thoughts Kain had planted and get killed in battle because of it. He wanted to protect her.

As the rain came pouring down, he could still see the deep hatred back in her eyes bearing up at him. Not at all what he hoped. Then Layla truly surprised him .

She whipped out one of the small knives he had seen Kain just give her.

Confusion danced across Theron’s face as she threw the dagger at a nearby tree— no, not at the tree —a squirrel darting up its bark.

The blade found its mark mid-climb. The animal dropped with a thud.

Theron froze. What in the name of the gods …

He looked back at her—chest rising furiously, drenched in rain, eyes blazing with challenge. She held his gaze, her body shivering, not with fear or cold, but with what he would guess was adrenaline? Anger? Pride maybe?

“A sword is not the only way to win a fight,” she said, voice cutting through the storm like lightning itself. Then she turned and stomped away.

He didn’t even realize his mouth had fallen open. It snapped shut the moment he regained sense of where he was. Without a second thought, he took off after her.

She charged into the hut just ahead of him, shoving the hide flap aside with more force than necessary.

He followed a step behind, ducking in after her.

As his eyes momentarily adjusted, then he took in the sight before him-Rain clung to her like a second skin, her soaked body trailing water across the packed dirt floor.

By the time he stepped inside, she was already pacing—back and forth, arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if trying to contain the fury and heartbreak threatening to rip her apart.

Her hair stuck to her face in damp strands, her breaths short and sharp.

“Why did you kiss me like that if you cared that I hadn’t…” she snapped, throwing her arm toward the cot. Her voice cracked as her eyes blazed .

Theron halted. Confusion spread across his face as he tried to piece together what she was saying. “Hadn’t what?”

Layla sucked in a sharp breath and shook her head, looking away before she collapsed onto the cot. For a moment, she said nothing. Then her voice came again, quieter this time. “You had to have known I didn’t have any… experience.”

Realization struck like a fist to the chest. She thought he’d rejected her because she was untouched?

Because she wasn’t experienced? His gut twisted.

Gods, he’d been such a fool. He crossed the room in two strides, slowly lowering himself to his knees in front of her.

His hand came up instinctively, brushing the soaked strands of hair from her cheek. She tensed but didn’t pull away.

“Layla…” he said her name like a vow.

“I wanted to,” she whispered. “With you.”

Theron’s entire world stopped at hearing those words from her lips.

Fire shot through his veins. His cock hardened instantly, pressing painfully against his pants.

And yet, he didn’t move. He waited—just long enough for her eyes to flicker to his lips.

Then he surged forward, claiming her mouth like he was drowning and she was air.

She gasped against him, her hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer.

Their kiss was desperate, aching, needy.

His hand slid down to the strap of her warrior top, quickly pulling at the cords.

Then with a firm tug, it loosened. Tossing it to the ground in a glorious heap.

When he pulled away, it was only long enough to see the rise and fall of her bare chest. Her nipples beautifully perked and taunting, he exhaled a hungry curse under his breath at the sight.

Theron leaned down and drew one into his mouth, letting his tongue circle and suck until her moan filled the hut.

It was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.

He groaned, the low and involuntary sound escaping from his throat as one hand sliding down her ribs to the waistband of her skirt.

Layla arched into him, silently begging for more.

He paused only once, to make sure she was ready.

“I want you,” she whispered again, breathless this time. That was all he needed.

He ripped the skirt from her with practiced ease, tossing it to the floor.

She was stunning—pink, wet, trembling. Theron knelt between her thighs and kissed slowly down her body, letting his breath tease her still damp skin.

When his tongue finally met her center, her back arched violently.

She cried out, her fingers knotting in his damp hair as he proceeded to devour her.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow—not until her entire body locked up and she shattered beneath him.

When she was done shaking, he waited for her to slowly open her eyes before he stood and undressed in silence before her.

She watched him, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with awe and want.

His cock painfully hard now. Then Theron lowered himself over her again, lining himself at her entrance.

He kissed her slowly, reverently, giving her one final chance to change her mind. She didn’t.

With one slow thrust, he entered her. Her gasp was soft, broken.

Theron stilled, letting her adjust. She was so tight.

So warm . Gods, he could barely hold back.

But he knew he needed to. So he began to move in slow, deep strokes.

Each time she whispered his name, he pushed deeper, harder, faster.

Then her legs hooked around his hips as her nails scraped down his back.

He was plunging into her now. Wanting to hear every desire filled sound he could ring from her.

When she came again, crying out with abandon, Theron followed.

Pulling out just in time and groaning through clenched teeth as he spilled onto the ground beside the cot.

He immediately collapsed next to her, chest heaving, limbs shuddering. Layla turned to him, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. And in that moment, he didn’t care about battles, or Kain, or rules. He only knew that he would kill anyone who tried to take this woman from him. His Layla.

“You’re mine,” he growled, pulling her into his chest and pressing another passionate kiss to her lips.