Page 26

I watch him, knowing I could have him right now. I can see and feel his need. It would be harsh and brutal like the man himself, but if I cross that line with him, there's no going back.

“I don’t want to fuck. I want to fight.” He nods, the need still in his eyes.

“Both are pretty much the same to me.” He's right, the lust quickly turns to bloodlust in his eyes. The image of me and him beating the shit out of each other, of not having to hold back, of just being the monster they created, has me snarling with the same need he feels. His grin turns feral. I know he can take it and return it and that makes me hotter than hell. I never need to hide the darkest parts of me with him. He sees them, and revels in them, twisting them with his own. So no, he will never be the man who holds me and tells me everything will be okay. But I don’t need that, I never have.

I know the evil that waits around each corner, the darkest parts of a person's soul.

No pretty half-truths will make me feel better, but taking it all out on him might.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you spill that Seeker’s guts in your first fight.

I've never seen anything as beautiful as you rising from the sand, covered in your enemy’s blood, a stolen blade clutched in your hand.

You looked like a fucking queen, the way you tilted your head in defiance. ”

The memory of that fights rises. I remember my eyes meeting his in the crowd and what felt like an electric bolt hitting me.

“Enough talking.” Stepping back, I let his hands drop.

He rips his shirt over his head and tosses it away.

His eight pack is revealed, all solid mass with clear sharp lines.

A delicious V leads down to his low riding jeans as does his happy trail.

Scars, burns and bruises mar his chest, showing me how much of a warrior he is.

He is like the wildness in this world, the death and destruction around him, suiting him, accepting him.

Looking into his eyes, it's easy to see why so many fear him and whisper about him in reverence, but it only serves to amp up my desire. My anger wraps around it, twisting me inside until I don’t know whether to jump him or attack him.

He waits, letting me look my fill. He doesn’t pose or show off, just stands loose and waits for whatever I throw at him. That thought breaks the last shred of my control and with a speed I didn’t even know I had, I run at him, my previous exhaustion melting away to brutal unrelenting anger.

I slide at the last minute and jump to my feet behind him.

I jab his sides before dancing away. He spins, already striking, faster than I thought possible.

His fist catches my exposed face, the force snapping it sideways.

A grin to match his graces my lips at the fact he didn’t pull the punch, it allows the chains holding back my demons to snap.

I whirl at him, brutally hammering with punches and kicks.

He blocks and returns as we dance across the training grounds.

I start to flag after about ten minutes and I can tell he still has more stamina.

He manages to put me to the ground, standing over me with his eyes alight.

Time to show him why I’m the champion. Grabbing a fist full of sand, I fling it into his eyes and push up, jumping.

Wrapping my legs around his neck, I twist in a dirty move, rolling him under me so my thighs bracket his face.

Without missing a beat, his legs wrap around my throat and yank me down.

Applying more pressure, I grit my teeth against the burning in my throat.

Rolling us to the side, I manage to shimmy out of the hold while releasing my legs.

Not giving him a second to act, I grab his arms and throw his body so he lays on his front, his arm at an angle behind him.

From this, I can control his movement. He pulls, yanking his arm. I have a split second to decide whether to let him go or dislocate his arm. I let go and he dislodges me before pinning me to the floor.

We stare at each other, our chests heaving, the adrenaline running through our sweaty bodies. The rest of the world drops away, leaving just me and Dray.

“Give up?” He grins as he talks, the sweat trickling down his face and dripping onto my chest. With a smirk, I roll us and lean over his hips. His hard length hits my core, making me wiggle.

“Never.”

His grin is full of amusement and his cold eyes blaze.

“Good. Draw?” He asks. I’m betting he has never had to draw in his life, although neither have I.

I know he's talking about more than the fight, if I agree, I’m meeting him halfway.

I’m reaching out to him. I nod and roll off to lay next to him in the dirt.

We both stare at the sky for a while before his voice breaks the quiet of the night.

“I need your help.”

My head snaps to the side to see him looking at me intensely.

“With what?” I ask shocked.

“I'm calling a Summit. It’s the only way to deal with the Berserker threat. They are getting stupid, and with no proper leader, it could spill over all the borders, creating a war none of us can win. Not with our infighting anyway.”

“What does that have to do with me? ”

“They trust you. Everyone knows your rep and plenty of men out here owe you their lives or loyalty because of what you did in The Ring. Us leaders don’t trust one another, but having the Berserker champion come to them? That just might work.”

“That’s crazy,” I protest, sputtering at the idea.

“Maybe, maybe not. If anything, they will be curious and want to lord their power over you so they will come.”

“So, what, you want me to round up the most feared men in the Wastes?”

“Not exactly. I got Reeves to agree to attend the summit here, only the Worshippers haven’t answered my call,” he sounds angry. I’m betting he’s never heard no before.

“So you plan on saving the Wastes?”

“Don’t give me more credit than I deserve.

I don’t give a fuck whether the Berserkers wipe them out, but if they do, they reach more land and people.

That will upset the balance and leave me at a disadvantage.

War will devastate all the clans. Ivar needs to be dealt with.

I’m not asking for miracles, if I call a summit, I can see where the others stand while seeming like a good ally. ”

I go quiet for a while, thinking through his logic. “I will die before I go back to him, you know that right?” I stare at him, letting him see the truth in my words.

“I know. If it comes to that; if I - you- we - can't stop him, I’ll kill you myself before he gets his hands on you.” Some of the fear dissipates in me at that, I know he will keep his word. My chest loosens and I let go of the worries I’ve held since I heard they were looking for me.

“So you want me to go The Worshippers?” I try changing the subject, done with thinking about the past.

“Extend the invitation. I know you have ex-fighting friends there. Use your connections and then be back for the Summit.” He makes it sound easy.

“What why? Why do I need to be here for the Summit?”

“Beside the fact you know more about The Berserkers than anyone else in the Wastes? You’re smart, and if we are to win this, we will need your survival instincts. Besides, having you there might calm the clans and stop us from tearing each other apart before Ivar can.”

“When's the summit?” I groan, he couldn't have asked for something easy could he?

“Twelve days.” He smiles as my eyes narrow at the late warning.

“Who else will be there?”

“Major, Reeves, you, me, and a representative from The Rim.” He turns on his side to face me, propping his head on his arm. He looks younger right now, without all the weight and expectation of leading on his shoulders.

“Why do you think I'll do this?”

“I could feed you lies about how you want to save people which, although true, isn’t the main reason.

Revenge. Your time to make him pay for everything and if you save innocent lives along the way, that’s a bonus for you.

You’re the only one who can do this. You’re smart, resourceful and even the leaders have a grudging respect for you. We need you. I need you.”

“Fuck.”

He laughs, throwing his head back before looking at me. My pulse races at how close we have gotten and I grudgingly bring my mind back to business.

“Fine, I'll leave tomorrow morning.” I flop back on the sand, his stare still burning into me. Wait! “You presumptive bastard! Is that why you sent me the sword?”

“Yes, do you know whose it was?”

“No,” I answer honestly, the curiosity getting the better of me.

“Ivar’s. I stole it from him and it's been in my clan ever since. It's said to be the sword that saved the Wastes from invaders before the clans were split.”

Sands below, the idea of touching a sword Ivar used makes me feel sick. “I don’t want that thing.”

“Ivar wasn't always evil. He's a man changed by the Wastes like we all are. Plus, the sword has more history than that. It is rumoured to be the King Killer.”

“From the siege which won his castle?” I try to recall the history one of the warriors told me when I was a child about the castle he called home, pre-waste.

“Exactly. It's fitting really.” He lays back down next to me, closer than before, the stars shining down on us. It’s beautiful, but I know somewhere under the same sky is Ivar. That takes some of the beauty away.

“Why?”

“Because if we succeed and kill Ivar, and have no doubt that we will have to, they will need a new leader. I can't think of anyone better to hold it.”

I can’t think of anything like that. I struggle to even manage myself, never mind a whole clan.

I’m quiet for a while. I know I should get up and leave but my own questions keep me here.

If I go to The Worshippers, there's no guarantee I’ll come back.

It bolsters my courage and I find myself asking something I’ve wanted to know for years .