Page 44 of The Frost Witch (The Covenants of Velora #1)

“You want to teach me to fight?” I kicked the pack to the side, tossing my cloak over it as I palmed the dagger Garrick had given me. “Fine. Do your worst.”

His brows drew together, an almost imperceptible sigh slipping from his chest. He could not be disappointed that he’d finally gotten what he wanted. I braced my feet, readying my stance as best I knew how as he selected a blade from his bandolier and started circling.

I rotated with him, determined not to allow him any unnecessary advantage. He had plenty already. But he simply circled, pausing now and again to test the terrain beneath his feet before continuing on.

When he spoke, his voice was smoother than it had been before, but there was an undertone that had not been there before. “Attackers will not care if you are sleeping.” Nash. “Or if you are tired.” Rilk. “You have to be prepared to defend yourself in every scenario.”

“But isn’t that why I have you?” I said with mock sweetness.

He was halfway back around the circle when he charged. I held my stance, meeting his first blow with an offensive of my own. But he seemed to expect that and swiped with his other fist even while I held off the hand holding the blade.

I dodged backward, which gave him space to bear down with the curved knife again. Fuck. I swerved to the side?—

The entire world slid sideways, my feet churning in a deep divot that had been covered by a bed of pine needles. Garrick stepped back, letting me flounder around to find my feet again.

“First lesson—use the terrain to your advantage.”

I was going to fucking kill him.

Garrick the Red. Renowned bounty hunter. Half-fae bastard.

I was going to kill him, and I would fucking enjoy it.

“You knew the hole was there,” I growled, like an animal. That’s what this man turned me into—a feral beast. A pit viper ready to strike. One of the atrocities that lived deep in the very mountains he insisted we traipse through.

“Of course I did,” he said. “Second lesson—know the terrain better than your opponent.”

Which he did, because I’d given him the time to reconnoiter it while he walked in literal circles around me. I gritted my teeth and sprang forward before he could.

He was ready for me, catching the downward swing of my knife against his own. I tried to replicate the maneuver he’d used against me moments before, swinging my other fist at his stomach. But I was weaker with my left hand than my right and he did not even react to the blow.

He caught my left hand, encircling my fist with his hand, and twisted.

My body bowed with the pain, twisting with my arm to try and relieve it.

Garrick hooked his other arm around my neck.

With one swift movement, he had me pinned against him, my back flush with his chest. My knife was still in my hand, but it was useless.

I struggled against him, but that was useless, too. A low, self-satisfied chuckle caressed my exposed neck. I forced myself to be still so he could not enjoy my struggling, and so that I could try to break down the series of maneuvers that Garrick had used to get me there.

But thinking analytically was next to impossible with my body pressed up against his.

Garrick was as hot as I was. Hotter, maybe. I wore multiple layers of wool and leather, but I could feel the spot where his hand gripped my forearm like a brand. Except that it was a pleasant heat, a heat that ignited an answer low in my stomach.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Third lesson—use what you know about your attacker.”

The ice in my chest from earlier melted. My entire body was liquid.

“And what is it you think you know about me?” I gasped out.

“I know all sorts of things about you.” He leaned in lower until his mouth was at the delicate intersection of my ear and my neck. “Witch.”

Dark Lord, save me. On his lips, it did sound like an endearment. The kind that was whispered in darkened bed chambers between lovers.

I jerked out of his grasp. He could have held me in place if he’d wanted, but he let me go. I spun, wary to expose my back, and retreated quickly until there were several steps between us.

Garrick tracked every movement with those infernal glowing eyes.

“You should train with your left hand, as well.”

“Maybe I should get better at my right hand, instead of being painfully incompetent with both.”

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, catching on the half-moon scar on the outside of his right eye before sliding the rest of the way to his jaw.

I wanted to trace that exact path with my tongue.

I wanted to be the one to make him quiver, to have the advantage over him just once.

What would it feel like, to have power over Garrick the Red?

More intoxicating than any wine or liquor.

But allowing myself to give in, even if he wanted it, was dangerous.

Foolish. He was my Lifebind. If Xyta had proved anything, it was the mercurial nature of the gods.

The Goddess of Mercy might never consider the debt between Garrick and me satisfied.

We might be stuck together through all seven gates. Or until one of us died. Or both.

As much as I hated to admit it—and certainly wouldn’t to him—Garrick was right.

I needed to learn to defend myself better.

I no longer had a coven to protect me, nor the safety of the coven lands.

Thus far, my power had remained strong. But when it began to fade, I needed to know how to wield the daggers in my belt for more than just slicing food.

I shifted my stance and threw myself into my next attack.

I was terrible, and it was not just the exhaustion. Even as I got better at anticipating his next move, I was not adept enough to avoid it. And for every parry or spin I did anticipate, he revealed another. Garrick’s well of fighting tactics seemed to be endless.

“Your attackers will not give you time to catch your breath,” Garrick said.

I braced my hands on my hips and ignored him. I hunched forward, struggling for every breath. Whatever improvements in endurance he imagined I’d gained, an hour of sparring had eviscerated them. I was sweatier than before, thirstier than before, and angrier than before.

“I am done,” I said between gasps.

“Not yet.”

The arrogance of that tone— “You are not my master.”

“You are determined to get both of us killed.”

I pushed myself up to stand, fueled by righteous rage.

“I am doing my best!” I yelled, lifting my hand to throw my dagger at his fucking head.

But something flashed behind him. I blinked, trying to see—nothing.

There was nothing but a few scant patches of snow that had hidden from the watery sun beneath the evergreens.

“We are not done,” Garrick was saying, though he sheathed his blade. “You need to know more than just how to defend yourself. If you need to incapacitate your attacker long enough to obtain information?—”

“You mean torture.” Ice shot through my veins.

Garrick did not flinch. “Yes.”

“Teach me to defend myself. But keep your lessons in torture to yourself.” I already know how. I did not finish the sentence aloud.

Garrick took several slow, careful steps toward me. I did not protest, but I did not move closer to him, either. I looked over his shoulder, to where I’d seen that strange reflection of light. It was an excuse to avoid his gaze and any questions I might find there.

“If you wish to incapacitate your attacker?—”

My stomach tightened and twisted. “I already said?—”

“Koryn.” Garrick’s hands landed on my shoulders. I expected him to pull me to him. I didn’t know why. Whatever it was that existed between us, it was all tangled up with the Lifebind. His life depended upon mine.

I felt the intensity of his gaze upon me. But I still could not bring myself to meet his eyes. I kept staring over his shoulder, determined to keep my distance emotionally, if not physically. But Garrick was as stubborn as I was. Finally, finally, I turned my eyes up to meet his.

More than a foot separated our faces, the height difference never more pronounced than it should have been in that moment. But the way that Garrick looked at me, the intensity, the way the clover green brightened and melted into the blue… I felt impossibly close to him. Foolishly close.

He spoke softly, without breaking the eye contact that seemed to anchor me to the ground. “I understand your wish to live in a world where such things are not necessary. But this is not that world.”

I swallowed hard, emotions I could not name nor restrain playing across my face for Garrick to see. He watched them all, unflinching, unafraid. He may call me a witch. But he saw what I was beneath that. He saw things that I was not quite sure I wanted to see for myself.

He tilted his head, just the barest fraction of an inch. Almost imperceptible. But I perceived it—an invitation.

I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip, then my tongue over the tingling sensation they left. Garrick made a low sound in his throat. The blood rushed through my veins in silent demand. I lifted myself up onto my toes, leaning into him to steady myself?—

A flash of light flickered over Garrick’s shoulder, moving quickly between the trees. Not light, but a creature with shimmering scales.

I rocked back on my heels. “Is that… is that a dragon?”