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Anthea watched it spin in the air before catching it in one hand. He had given this challenge to her a week ago: retrieve and use the wooden dagger before he could disarm her. It was not an easy task. Eldrion was not just bigger and stronger, he was a skilled warrior who had trained his entire life. He was simply too quick, too strong. Every time Anthea had reached for the dagger, he had swiftly knocked her hand away, sometimes disarming her before she even had a chance to fully grasp the weapon.
But Anthea was nothing if not persistent. She had tried again and again, each failure teaching her something new about Eldrion’s tactics. She had studied his moves, looked for a pattern, a weakness she could exploit—It seemed like he had none. But everyone had a weakness, she just had to look harder.
Anthea observed him as he waited for her to attack, her gaze focused, sizing him up. If she was to defeat a male like Eldrion, she needed to think outside the box, be unpredictable.
So, channeling her inner rabid monkey, she launched herself at him with a screech.
For a moment, he was too shocked to react, giving Anthea the momentum she needed to get close.
She leaped and clung to him, climbing up his body like a koala, her arms flailing around as she tried to gain a better hold. It was chaotic, it was messy, but it was working.
“Anthea, what are you—” Eldrion started, but his words were cut off when she swung an arm over his eyes, blocking his vision.
Despite his size, he was thrown off balance. And they both went tumbling to the ground, Eldrion trying to cushion her fall as much as he could, while she tried to hold on to her dagger that she had just successfully retrieved, getting closer than ever to completing this challenge.
As they hit the ground, Anthea saw her chance. She maneuvered her hand, aiming for his side, but his reflexes were too quick. In a swift movement, he caught her wrists, rolled them around and pushed her hands up above her head, pinning her with his body.
A moment, then another passed.
Eldrion didn’t seem inclined to move.
Pine and leather and something so distinctively him filled her senses.
Anthea looked up at him, their bodies intertwined in a way that was no longer about training. The usual steely calmness in his eyes had been replaced with something darker, heavier, making her breath catch. She shifted beneath him, trying to create some space with her hips?—
His body went taut, his grip on her tightening, pressing her further into the ground. “Anthea . . .” Her name came from his lips like a prayer, a low rumble that warmed her core.
The hard length of him against her hip made her heart race, made her wriggle her hips underneath him—he closed his eyes and groaned.
Anthea paused, realizing she was utterly at his mercy—and she didn’t know what he would do next. Didn’t really know what she would want him to do next. For a moment she wondered: what would he be like? She glanced around—they were alone. No one would know.
Anthea blinked—What was she thinking?
“Eldrion. . .” A plea. A gentle reminder.
He opened his eyes.
Then, his grip loosened, his body moving off hers in one swift, fluid motion. He sat back on his heels, putting a much-needed distance between them.
“I . . .” he started, his voice heavy with an unspoken apology. “I didn’t mean to . . . I lost control.” The elven warrior looked away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His face was hard, unreadable, but Anthea could see the struggle in his eyes, the shame.
This was Eldrion, she reminded herself. A warrior, a leader, a male of impeccable control.
And he had just lost it.
39
Her shoulders relaxed, sinking deeper into the warm embrace of the pool. The water’s caress whispered away the strains and stresses of the day. The Nephrite court’s thermal pools were a haven, a place of solace. Steam rose like ethereal wraiths, cloaking the chamber in a misty veil. The cave’s walls glittered with a luminescent algae, casting a soft glow that danced across the surface of the water.
Her serenity shattered as voices echoed through the stone corridors. The familiar timbre of Eldrion’s voice, paired with Beldor’s and Fyrlion’s, reverberated against the stone walls, growing nearer. Anthea snapped upright, water droplets cascading from her skin. Heart pounding, she surged from the pool, hastily grabbing a nearby towel, she wrapped it swiftly around her dripping form.
They were almost here?—
She pressed her back against the rough, cool wall, holding her breath, listening as the trio’s conversation grew louder, their footfalls nearing her hidden alcove. She willed her heartbeat to silence, her breathing to stillness, as she prayed for them to pass. After what had happened at the morning training with Eldrion—she wasn’t sure she wanted to face him quite so soon.
Fate seemed not on her side as their voices halted, the splash of water indicating their choice of the chamber adjacent to hers.
Anthea’s mind raced. She needed to leave, unseen and unheard. Her eyes darted around the chamber, searching for a path of escape, her mind mapping out the quietest, quickest route.
