Rokath swung, and I dodged, sliding forward and aiming a slice at his hip, where his armor exposed the barest bit of his undershirt. He sidestepped, the sharp tip barely missing the fabric. Air whooshed in my ears as I pivoted on the ball of my foot and held up my sword, just in time for his to smack against it. The impact reverberated up my arm, nearly making me drop the weapon. I bared my teeth, muscles trembling, and shoved back.

Rokath seemed utterly unphased. He used the barest amount of force to fight me which was so fucking unfair.

With a cry, I shoved off our connection and circled away from him, searching for an opening. He stalked forward again, bronze flashing. I ducked, aiming a kick at his inner thigh, where only straps secured the metal covering the front and back.

The connection landed clean, and he swung his leg back and away from me, leaving his non-dominant leg forward.

“Smart move,” he commented, flipping the hilt in his hand.

“I had a good teacher,” I purred, batting my lashes. A moment later, I thrust my sword forward, catching him off guard. He barely managed to parry it away.

An approving growl rumbled in his chest. “Use those tricks, little imposter. They might save your life.” He executed a complex series of strikes, sending me stumbling back. “They might not.”

I dug my heel in and attempted to hold him off. Our blades met, and I leaned my weight into it. “I thought you wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Why do you think I’m training you so hard? I have to whip the foolishness out of you now so our enemies don’t on the battlefield,” he snapped back. Lust ignited between us as we remained locked in that stance. “No one will take you from me. No Angel. No Fate. Not even death. Because I am the Halálhívó.”

Desire coiled in my belly at the possession in his tone. I shoved off him, dropping my magic and flashing him a devious grin. He straightened to his full height, towering over me in a move that was meant to be intimidating but only sent heat rushing through my veins.

“Why is it that no matter how many times I have you, I can’t get enough? Why can I never satisfy my craving for you?” he asked, his tone all gravel and darkness.

“Because you constantly have to win me over, Halálhívó. What was it you said when you told me to run the first time? Your favorite game is catch?” I stepped forward until only a breath of space remained between us. Subtly, I called on my magic, smoky onyx ready to explode from me. “There’s nothing I love more than challenging you. Than making you chase me.”

More lust swept between us. But as Rokath reached for my head, I flattened my palms on his chest and shoved. Ebony exploded from my hands, sending him careening backward. He stumbled, falling to the ground, when I twisted my magic and wrapped it around his torso. The shadows halted him mere inches from the unforgiving stone. I prowled toward him, inky tendrils still swirling around us.

The fire in his eyes was entirely worth the victory I’d carved for myself.

“Eyes of devious burgundy,” he growled as power pooled around him, fighting against my own to right himself. I released mine, including Araquiel’s form, and allowed him to rise. “That’s what Kiira said about you before we even knew you existed.” He stepped closer, tugging on my braid and forcing me to look up at him. “That is who you have become, Assyria. And I am so fucking proud to call you my mate.”

The gong sounded, shattering our moment.

Rokath let out a frustrated grumble. “We’ll continue our training later. For now, it’s time for lunch.”

When we turned to head toward the dining hall, Rapp and Kiira were nowhere to be found. They must have left at some point during our second session.

“Thank you,” I said, halting him with two soft words. Yet they felt too small for everything he had given me.

“For what?” Rokath asked, his head tilting to the side.

“Not keeping me away from it all. For empowering me.” I paused, and Rokath did too, studying me with haunted intensity. “When I was a girl, I dreamed of having a mate, actually. But one who helped me shirk society’s rules for females. Who would love that rebellious part of me. Who would garden with me.” My tone was soft, vulnerable, and I looked at my hands, unable to meet his gaze.

A finger under my chin lifted my eyes to meet his. “Truly?”

“Truly,” I replied. “It’s not in the way I imagined it…but you give me all of that.”

He crushed me against him, holding me so tight that I had no choice but to bury myself against his hard armor. “I love you, Assyria. I will always protect you, always fight for you. But more than that, I will ensure you can do both for yourself.” Releasing me, he crouched so we were level. “You are mine. I might be a possessive brute as you have called me, but I will not cage you like Vagach did. Not anymore at least.”

“Will you still try to break me, to bend me to your will?” I asked, a smile blooming on my lips.

“Only when I am fucking you, little imposter. Because you love submitting to me. You love that you can trust me to make you feel good. To help you explore everything you were forbidden from doing,” he ground out, the heat in his tone going straight to my center.

Swallowing, he straightened, glancing around before adjusting himself. I dug my teeth into my lower lip at the sight of the hard outline in his pants. “Come, we’ll be late to lunch and I certainly don’t want all eyes on me.”

“Because you don’t want the soldiers to have anything certain for their fantasies?” I shot back.

“They don’t,” he grumbled.

I slipped myself under his arm as we walked, ever so slightly leaning into his side. “Oh, but they do,” I teased. The first time I’d overheard a group talking about my mate, an insane jealousy had risen in me, until I realized I was the only one who would get to be with him that way. Then, I got to brag shamelessly to my new friends. Not that I’d admit that to Rokath. His ego was too large already.

Rokath muttered a string of obscenities under his breath. I laughed all the way to the dining hall, where we managed to slip in without any eyes snapping to my mate’s groin.

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38

Two weeks of training together, and the females were already working efficiently as units unto themselves. Many of the males had ripped up their opinions of the matter and burned them, especially after the initiation ritual. Powerful ones worked one-on-one with the new warriors, aiding them in honing their magic.

Volunteers for my elite unit had flooded in, and selecting the final members had been brutal. Uzadaan, Izzenna, and Vokkia were all natural choices. Maariya and Darrx, too. A handful of others with a range of powerful magic rounded out the group—the Deathveiled, as they’d agreed upon calling themselves after our first training session together.

We’d started drilling as a team at the beginning of each day while we were all fresh, watched carefully by Rokath and Rapp, of course. With a solidified routine, all our plans were unfolding smoothly.

The one aspect of our new lives no one accounted for, though, was the drama.

Unfortunately for me, today was my turn to deal with it. In a now-shared office with Rokath, two males sat across from me, one with a bloody lip, the other leaking crimson from his nose.

“Alright. So who started this one?” I sighed, grasping a stick of charcoal and dragging parchment in front of me. Rokath wanted detailed reports on all instances—they’d ensure all were treated fairly and provided proof should any of the lingering detractors protest.

“He did,” they both said, pointing at the other.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Who was it over?” I asked instead.