Fates, I was really starting to sound like him. His constant stream of consciousness into my mind had changed the way I thought about a lot of things. It didn’t help that his mind was always working. Those moments of quiet were rarer than his genuine smiles.

“Come,” he told me. I rolled my eyes but obeyed anyway.

“I am not a dog,” I reminded him as I lengthened my stride to keep up. We entered the command center, finding reprieve from the sweltering heat. There, Rapp and Trol were debriefing with some of the Százados who had led the fight to capture the three female Angels.

“What were our losses?” Rokath questioned, hardened to the idea of losing soldiers.

All attention turned to him, and the four Százados offered him hasty salutes. I casually strolled to the pitcher of water on a nearby table and poured some for myself. Even days after returning, I couldn’t help but drink as often as I could. Dehydration in the desert was horrendous. In my delirium, I’d thought that the Reaper had cursed us to die a painful death for loving each other.

Rokath had talked me out of it…eventually. Even now with my mind clear, surrendering that fear proved difficult.

I braced myself to hear the number of soldiers who had perished to aid me, still tender to that exposure.

“Only twenty, Halálhívó,” one replied. “We killed far more than that as well. Thanks to the scout’s information, we were able to take them by surprise.”

A hint of tension bled from Rokath’s shoulders. “You all did very well. Eat and take a much deserved rest.”

They thanked him and departed shortly after. Rokath relayed the information about the female Angels to the two Hadvezér. Since I was there when it happened, I slipped into the bone room and found Grem and Zeec lounging on their favorite cushions. Zeec, thank the Weaver, had made a full recovery. I still pet that spot where he’d been slashed open with the tenderest of care.

The action soothed the sting of knowing that I was responsible for more deaths.

Rokath and Rapp found me with both dogs competing for my attention. “You’d never know they would rip out the throats of anyone we told them to,” I quipped as the curtain fluttered shut behind them.

Rapp laughed and then bent down to stroke their fur as well. Meanwhile, Rokath sighed. “When you two are quite finished, Assyria needs more combat training today.”

“You mean foreplay?” Rapp teased, straightening.

“It is not foreplay,” Rokath groused, fingers flexing like he wanted to strike his friend for the insinuation.

I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to smother a laugh.

We hadn’t trained since our return, given how exhausted I’d been. Even now, the heat of the day sapped my energy. Yet this was essential, and I would do whatever it took to become as fierce as I could be. So with aching, protesting limbs, I rose. “Let’s go.”

We found a place near the command center that was relatively devoid of soldiers. Rokath said we wouldn’t need too much space since he wanted to restart hand to hand combat training before providing me with sharp objects.

At least I wouldn’t intentionally stab him anymore.

The thought pulled a small smile to my lips.

I shook out my tired arms and then faced him in the center of the ring he’d toed into the dirt. Rapp sat with his back propped against a wood pole, the dogs on either side of him. Grem and Zeec rested their heads on their paws, eyes tracking our movements.

“Try to punch me,” Rokath commanded.

I shot him a saccharine smile. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.” Then, I leaped forward, at the same time extending my left arm in a jab. Before I made contact, though, I reeled it in and struck out with my right hand. Rokath absorbed the blow to his stomach. His face, unfortunately, was a bit out of my reach.

“Very good,” he praised, and my face flushed.

“No corrections?” I pried, given that every time before, he’d also offered his opinion on how I could be better.

“Maybe later,” he shrugged, spinning on his back foot and out of my reach. “Come at me again.”

I chased him down, wracking my brain for the combinations he’d shown me before. Rapp assisted with a few calls of his own, while Rokath slowed his movement to allow me time to throw everything correctly. We fell into a rhythm, and then he started working in counters and parries, increasing the complexity of our dance.

“I need a break,” I panted after nearly half an hour under the sweltering sun. Sweat poured off me in salty rivulets.

Rapp tossed me a waterskin, and I greedily emptied its contents into my mouth. With the back of my hand, I wiped my brow. It was no use. With how damn hot it was even at the mouth of the Paks Desert, moisture beaded it again instantly.

I had to admit, though, that the drops rolling down Rokath’s torso were far too alluring. As always when we sparred, he was shirtless. His sculpted shoulders were on full display, as were the two lines carved into his lower abdomen into a delicious V that disappeared into his pants.

At the reminder of what lay there, desire coiled low in my center.

Maybe Rapp was right and this was a prelude to sex.

It didn’t help that we also hadn’t coupled since our return. Rokath had been busy, and I’d been recovering. Our bond flared with my greedy thoughts, and Rokath’s attention snapped to me. Flames ignited in his eyes, and he raked his hungry gaze over me.

I tossed the waterskin away and faced him again. Lifting my chin, I circled him like a cat circles her prey. Rokath rose to the challenge, his hulking form somehow growing even bigger as he called smoky onyx to his skin. The dark lines swirled up his arms and around his torso before billowing out behind him and beneath his feet with every step he took.

Dragging in a breath, I called on my own magic, bringing darkness into existence. Like I’d done countless times while traveling with the army, I formed thick lines with them. Though instead of manipulating them to haul goods or push wagons, I let them lie long and loose like whips. Fisting them, I prepared to snap my wrists and do just that in Rokath’s direction.

We struck at the same time, my shadows colliding with a solid shield of Rokath’s. A deep gouge in the onyx lasted only a moment before Rokath’s magic overtook them. Like a twister, it swirled around me, only offering me brief glimpses of my mate. I spun in a circle, trying to figure out where he was and where he would attack from next. The power surrounding me made it impossible to pinpoint his position.

Suddenly, the pitch dropped away, and he pressed against my back, one hand clamping over my mouth while the other banded my stomach. I flashed back to the moment the Angels had done just that, when they’d slapped a putrid rag over my face and knocked me out. A scream ripped from my throat, and I thrashed in Rokath’s hold as pure terror shattered through my veins.

He released me, and I lurched forward. Spinning me to face him, he crouched down so we were level. “Breathe, Assyria. You’re safe with me. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Darkness dissipated as I blinked, coming back to myself. To the camp. To the feel of my mate’s calloused hands on my shoulders. To the stench of unwashed bodies and burnt earth.

I dragged in a serrated breath, matching the rise and fall of my mate’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I never should have touched you like that. I didn’t think…”

Of course, he’d figured out exactly what had upset me. Since we’d admitted our feelings to one another and accepted the mate bond the Fates had blessed us with, we had no barriers between us anymore.

When I said nothing, he stepped back, nostrils flaring. But it was the guilt in his expression that had me reaching for his hand. Seeking the comfort only he could offer me.

“I’m safe with you,” I repeated, mostly as a message to the trembling parts of me that still screamed to fight.