Page 6 of Princess (Marinah and the Apocalypse #5)

King

I stood on the wide training field, watching as Shadow Warriors and human islanders sparred side by side.

Marinah had ordered us to integrate and train as a seamless unit, learning each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

We had done this in small, controlled groups before. Now it was entirely different.

It wasn’t how I had done things, but the camaraderie was needed, and it worked.

Eventually, many of the Shadow Warriors would leave the island, turning its defenses over to the humans who lived here. Marinah wanted that day to come soon. Whether that was realistic or not, I wasn’t sure.

To prepare for that future, we had a team working on a serum to protect humans from the toxin in hellhound bites and scratches.

As it stood, any human who was wounded by a hellhound died.

And worse, if the remains weren’t burned, their body, though it would take years, would eventually come back as one of the monsters that had nearly wiped us out.

Shadow Warriors weren’t immune to the toxins that killed humans, but we had an advantage.

Our small science team had discovered a serum that kept our stronger bodies alive long enough to heal.

We each carried an emergency injection that could save us most of the time.

If we knew we’d be facing hellhounds in battle, we took the injection in advance, ensuring we wouldn’t go down if teeth or claws made contact.

I scanned the field, my eyes landing on several men and women who had once been part of the Federation’s attack against the island.

That had been almost four months ago. We had interrogated them, studied their motives, and in the end, more than half had been given a choice to fight with us or become part of the island community.

President Barnes had turned his lowest-level troops into fodder, injecting them with the genetic modification that ensured, if they died, they would quickly rise again as hellhounds. The ones who had joined us had been given a promise that if they died, we wouldn’t let them come back as monsters.

The humans who didn’t want to fight were assigned tasks on the island.

One of them, Kenneth, had been a medical intern when the first hellhound war broke out. He now worked alongside Axel and his mate Garret, assisting in the medical units. Kenneth made a deal that if Axel continued training him, he would stay behind when the Warriors pulled out for good.

He was a puny human, awkward in movement and reliant on glasses to see. His first pair had been lost during the battle, but we had managed to find him another set. He wasn’t a warrior, not by any means. But Axel and Garret liked him and said he was a great asset for the people.

In the end, people mattered most.

I spotted Amy across the training field, her stance tense as she fought with another human.

She was young and determined but not fully healed.

My mate, in Nova form, had broken Amy’s wrists when she begged for mercy during the heat of battle.

The bones had mended but left weakness that would take more physical therapy to completely heal.

I strode toward her and lifted my hand. The fighting halted immediately.

“The sword is too heavy for you,” I said.

Amy’s expression flickered with defeat, but before she could protest, I continued.

“That might not be the case in a few months, but right now, you’re still recovering.

Anything you learn with a lighter sword will go into muscle memory.

When you’re ready for the heavier one, you’ll be surprised how much you’ve improved. ”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

I turned to her practice partner. “Go with her and help find something that won’t cause further damage to her wrists.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied quickly, already moving.

I hadn’t wanted Amy on the field at all but Marinah insisted.

Amy wanted to fight the Federation for what they had done to her.

She had been one of the unneeded soldiers who wore a red stripe on her uniform, the ones sent in first, their deaths considered meaningless.

She’d been injected with the poison so she would continue to kill after death.

Marinah saved her life. I wouldn’t have hesitated to end her. This was only one of the reasons Marinah was exactly what we needed. The world was not “either or” the way Shadow Warriors saw it. Marinah was the Shadow Warrior who tempered our beastly natures.

After watching Amy train for two weeks, my opinion had shifted. She wasn’t the strongest. She wasn’t the fastest. But she never gave up. She had something to prove, and it showed in every movement, every strike, every stubborn refusal to quit.

Marinah had a knack for saving those who deserved it.

“You want in?”

I turned at the familiar voice. Beck stood a few paces away, grinning like a man who had just flattened someone and enjoyed it. The human soldier at his feet groaned, struggling to stand.

“You looking for someone to kick your ass, or do you want me to go easy on you?” I shot back, drawing my sword.

Beck’s grin widened.

Within minutes, those on the field stopped sparring, their attention shifting toward us. Beck and I were nearly evenly matched, which meant our clashes were always worth watching.

The clang of steel rang out in the warm morning air.

I tightened my grip on the hilt; my focus locked onto Beck. He moved in a slow, deliberate circle, his stance loose and his eyes calculating.

“You planning to swing,” he taunted, “or are you just going to stand there holding it like a staff?”

His smirk was as irritating as ever.

I smiled. “I was just giving you a head start,” I shot back, lunging forward with a quick strike aimed at his shoulder.

Beck parried easily, the flat of his blade meeting mine with a deafening clang. The impact sent a jolt up my arm, but I adjusted, rolling my wrist to strike again. This time, I went lower, aiming for his side.

He anticipated the move.

Pivoting smoothly, he sidestepped just enough to evade my blade before countering with a strike toward my exposed flank.

I barely managed to block as our swords locked together with a metallic clang. He leaned in, pressing his strength against mine, giving a huff of warm breath with his determination.

“You’re still too predictable,” he murmured. “Your weight’s all wrong.”

“Maybe you’re just old,” I countered with a grin, shoving back to disengage.

Beck barked out a laugh. “Old? Or just better?”

His next attack was fast. He made a feint to the left, followed by a spinning arc aimed at my midsection. Instead of retreating, I stepped into the blow, catching his blade with mine and twisting hard.

The move knocked him slightly off balance, and I pressed the advantage, raining down strikes that forced him to backpedal.

“Better, King,” he said, as if offering a training critique. “But I still know your openings.”

To prove his point, he snapped a sudden kick to my knee. It wasn’t hard enough to injure, but enough to send me stumbling sideways.

Before I could jump to my feet, the flat of his blade tapped against my ribs.

“Dead,” he declared, smugly.

His victory was short-lived.

“Look down, old man.”

We were the same damn age, but ever since Beck had mated with Missy, he’d developed something dangerously close to a sense of humor.

Beck’s gaze dropped to where my knife, the one I always carried at my waist, rested dangerously against his junk.

He let out a low chuckle. “Missy would not like that.”

I wiped the sweat from my brow and nodded. “Again?”

“Again,” Beck said.

This time, there was no humor in his voice.

We went at it once more. I won in half the time. We were about to launch into round three when I caught movement in my periphery.

Marinah.

“Do you want to baby Beck’s arrogance all day or are you ready for a real opponent?” she asked, her words laced with challenge.

Pregnancy hadn’t stopped her from training, and I doubted anything could. I didn’t like seeing her on the practice field while she was carrying our child, but it wasn’t my call. At least if she was fighting me, I could make damn sure there were no accidents.

Beck stepped aside with a grin, and Marinah took his place, standing across from me, her sword at the ready. Her posture was too relaxed, but her eyes told another story. They gleamed with the quiet promise of violence.

Our blades met in a flurry of strikes and the sharp clang of steel filled the air.

“You’re holding back,” she growled, circling me like a predator. “I can feel it. And it’s pissing me off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied, feigning a quick jab at her left shoulder.

It was slow. She dodged easily and countered with a sharp swing aimed at my midsection.

I blocked, but half-heartedly.

She saw it.

Her next strike came harder, and I barely countered in time. My grip tightened on the hilt.

“You think I can’t handle you because of this?” she snapped, gesturing briefly to her stomach before stepping forward with a storm of rapid strikes. “You think I’m fragile now?”

I didn’t answer. I just kept moving, deflecting each of her attacks. I gave her the smallest of grins.

It was worse than an answer.

“Stop it!” she hissed, her swings growing wilder. “Fight me, King. Like you mean it.”

“I am,” I said evenly, stepping back to dodge a blow aimed at my head. “You’re faster than ever, Marinah. But I’m not going to hurt you or the baby.”

Her face flushed hot with anger.

“I don’t need your protection!” she roared, slamming her blade against mine so hard the impact echoed across the clearing. “I’m a Shadow Warrior, not some delicate flower!”

My frown deepened, and for just a fraction of a second, my sword lowered.

She didn’t hesitate.

With a swift, brutal attack, she swept my legs out from under me.

I hit the ground hard, my sword skidding out of reach. Before I could react, she loomed over me, the blade pressed to my throat.

My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, but the satisfaction I expected to see in her eyes wasn’t there.

“Feel better?” I asked carefully, not quite understanding what had gotten into her.

“No,” she snapped, throwing her sword to the ground and stepping away. “You’re treating me like I’m weak. I’ve survived hellhounds, human battles, and the Federation’s top forces. I don’t need you to go easy on me.”

I stood slowly, brushing dirt from my clothes. “And I’ve watched you risk everything, over and over. Forgive me if I want to keep you safe, even from me.”

She spun to face me full on. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle. That’s my choice, not yours.”

I was silent for a long moment. Then I picked up her sword and held it out to her. “Again,” I said. “No holding back.”

For a moment, she stared at me angrily. Finally, she grabbed the sword and stepped back into position.

This time, when our blades clashed, it was full force.

The speed of her strikes doubled. I’d never seen her move so fast. Maybe it was the hormones, but I wouldn’t tell her that.

She trained like everyone else, even when I complained about it.

Sweat ran down my back as she parried my strikes and tried to slip past my defenses.

She wasn’t going to win, but this made her happy, so I would indulge.

Suddenly, she tripped over air, or so it seemed, and stumbled, rolling on her side. I dropped my sword and went to my knees.

“Sucker,” she whispered with her knife at my throat.

“That’s me,” I said with a smile. “King of the suckers.”

“I needed that,” she said, no longer fighting her grin.

“Your confrontation with the barnacle went that bad?” I asked as I helped her to her feet.

“Not really. She won’t be fed today, and we’ll see if it improves her disposition, and she decides to follow my orders tomorrow. The meeting with the household staff went well. I left them in a great mood by telling them not to send food to her room until I returned her privileges.”

“How long do you think she’ll hold out?” I asked.

“Probably by dinner time, but she’s out of luck until tomorrow.”

Marinah had fooled me with her slip, and it took ten years off my life. But it felt good to see her happy.

She went to her toes and kissed me. “I’m sorry for that. I had another dream last night and no one came to save me from hellhounds. It shook me up and I needed to get it out of my head.”

“I will always come to save you.”

She kissed me again.

“Hungry?” I asked.

“Starving.”