Page 129 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

The loud ring of swords clashing, labored grunts, and a man crying greets me as soon as I open the door.

Peeking over the balcony wall, I find Alec facing off with three ragged, skinny men.

Another three lay in pools of their own blood—dead.

Alec turns and swings with precise movement, bringing his sword slicing through the shoulder of one of his opponents. Sinewand muscle separate with a nauseating squelch as his blade slides through.

Alec turns, kicking another in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the wall behind him with enough force that a spray of blood stains the tan stone on impact.

The visual brings back the image of him kicking in the door the night before, and my thighs clench.

Alec meets him on the rebound, swiping his deathly sharp sword to cut the man’s head clean off.

He turns to the last one, twirling his blade in his hand. Blood flicks off the tip and splatters across his face. He doesn’t even flinch.

Alec watches his final opponent with a cold smile gracing his striking face, taunting him.

“I want a trial! I want a trial!” the man squeals as he scampers back.

Alec laughs and drops his swords.

The man looks momentarily relieved until his eyes go wide. He then lifts his own sword, plunging it through the bottom of his jaw with force, the blade spearing through the top of his head.

Alec stays still, watching the corpse fall to the ground.

“Fucking pathetic,” Alec grumbles to himself, bending to pick up his swords.

He’s shirtless, in only his black pants and leather boots. I take in his physique, appreciating the exquisite cuts of muscle and creamy brown skin. As I walk down the stairs into the pitch, I’m not sure Alec noticed me approaching. The grin that spans his face when he turns tells me he did.

“Hello, Ellya,” he purrs.

My eyes scan over his face, the streaks of blood and unkemptness of his sweaty hair only add to his brutal beauty. My eyes castdownward to see those horrible scars across his chest and shoulder, to the toned muscles of his torso, his abs boasting a smattering of dark hair that extends between his cut hip muscles and down, down, down…

“I see that you have found your gift,” Alec’s silky baritone breaks me out of my trance.

My attention slides to his arrogant stare before I scowl.

Alec isn’t hiding his heated gaze as his eyes rove up and down my body, drinking in my form fitting clothes. His grin turns mischievous when he takes in the black bow around my hair.

He looks immensely proud of himself.

“You found the emerald,” is all I say with a flat tone.

Alec walks to a bench and picks up a towel, wiping the blood from his face. “No, my clove.Youfound the emerald. I merely retrieved it for you.”

“If you retrieved it, shouldn’t it be yours?” I unclip the staff and hold it out to him.

Alec frowns at me. “It is yours.”

I hold the staff vertical before doing a few slow twirls. It cuts through the air with ease—light and unbreakable. I do love it, and Alec is perfectly aware. He beams and circles behind me.

“It’s beautiful,” I admit. “Thank you.”

“It pales in comparison to your beauty,” he whispers in my ear with his breath against my skin, inhaling my scent with all the subtlety of an explosion and making my flesh pebble. “And you saw my other gift?”

“I’m not here to talk about that.” My cheeks flush as Alec pulls away and comes to face me.

“All the same, it is there any time you would like to be reminded.”