He dodged my first attack with the blade. He was well trained, and definitely had spent time around weapons. But something told me the sword wasn’t his first choice, just by the wary glare he gave it.
Adrenalin was flooding me, which was helpful in keeping the pure fear at bay. Fight to the death, fight to the death. I kept repeating it over and over, trying to make myself attack him again.
“You’re weak,” he spat, “and I’m going to enjoy tearing you limb from limb.” He was confident as he started circling me. But I had been sparring with Ryder for weeks now, and there was no one scarier than him. This little punk was nothing.
I centered myself, drawing on whatever ounce of badass was inside of me. The sword fit my hand like it was made for it. Sword was definitely my weapon. I struck out at him, fast and without any indication I was going to move. His eyes shuttered. Before he recovered, I had already cut three long gashes into him, two on his right arm and one on his left.
I slashed in a three-step motion again, going for the softer kill zones. Throat, chest, gut.
He threw out an arm to protect his throat and my weapon sunk into his bicep with a sickening sound and I faltered. That was so much worse than the little cuts from before.
He took advantage of my hesitation and threw a knee into my stomach. The wind rushed out of me as I keeled forward. I kept my grip on the sword, but wasn’t able to move before his foot clipped my forehead, throwing me backward. I hit the ground hard, and as his large form lunged over the top of me, I knew death was stalking me. Everything moved in slow motion then – the snarl, the fangs, the blood of his wounds raining across me. His hands were around my throat as he went in for the old fashioned kill. I knew he was strong enough to snap my neck and possibly take my head from my body. I felt the strength in his hands and limbs. But I was not prepared to die here today.
My eyes flashed across to the section where I knew Jayden and Ryder were sitting. Lucas was close by. All three of them had believed in me; there was something special in my blood. I was the first freakin’ female ash. I had to do this today. I had to be strong enough.
A surge of strength shot through me, despite the fact that I couldn’t breathe and dick ash was about five seconds from killing me. I smashed up with my sword and at the same time bucked violently managing to dislodge him a little. I shouldn’t have had so much reach from my position, but somehow I rolled to the side, tucking the sword against my body. Heat infused in my center, and I wondered if this was the fire that Ryder was talking about. I continued to roll, avoiding his heavy boot he had aiming for my face.
Time to die, asshole!
I jumped to my feet, my movements smooth and controlled for once. Must have been channeling my trainer. My opponent seemed to expect I would go for his head again, but the moment he was within arm’s reach, I dropped again. His eyes widened, and I had more than enough time to slash out at his ankles. As the hilt of my sword whacked into his injured ankle, he came tumbling down flat on the ground. I got to my feet again, wasting no time, trying to think about what I was about to do next. I was a robot. All humanity had left me. My heart pumped with adrenaline as the sword came down and bit into his exposed neck.
The blade was sharp, and cut through the initial skin like paper, but there was resistance as I fought to finish the job. I was struggling to not stop. I wanted to scream, or vomit, or throw the fucking sword far away where I couldn’t see it again. But this was kill or be killed. I had no choice, although sometimes it felt like that was just an excuse. I simply wanted to live, and today luck had fallen on my side.
My arms shook as I finally finished. The ash was still, his head connected by just by a sliver of muscle.
The crowd roared as I dropped the sword. There was a whining in my ears and I could no longer hear the shouts as my chest began to heave in shock. Suddenly Ryder was there, whisking me up into his arms. I fought him at first, but then let him take me back into the locker room. He set me down and was holding on to my biceps, his grip firm but not painful.
“Charlie!” His voice pushed past my shock.
Oh God. I killed someone. I cut his head off … I cut his … I tried to move my face away but I couldn’t. I threw up all over Ryder’s shirt.
He didn’t seem fazed, those silver and green eyes flashing at me. “Your first kill is always the hardest.”
As if I could ever get used to this. I wasn’t sure I could do that again, but if I didn’t I’d be the one missing my head.
Since the fighting was over for the day, Ryder took me to my room. I felt cold, chilled to my bones. I just walked behind him, mindlessly following and doing what he said. He sat me at the edge of my bed and handed me a bottle of blood and I drank it without pleasure. Then I lay back as Ryder unlaced my boots and I curled into a ball. He placed a blanket over me and told me to rest up until the next fight, in which I would be fighting doubles. A sliver of me was sad that I was too out of it to really enjoy this more caring side of Ryder, but I was already too far gone. I closed my eyes and the deep kiss of sleep engulfed my mind.