Page 42 of The Silversmith

I swallowed down a bit of bile.

“You’re small, so to get a good sleeper hold on someone my size—”

“No one is your size,” I grumbled. “You’re huge.”

He let out a low, surprised laugh and cleared his throat. “You’ll need to jump your enemy from behind and apply immediate pressure to the trachea with your forearm. If you fail, they’ll easily flip you.”

“You want me to jump on you?” I nervously rubbed at my elbow.

“Jumping on Caz’s back didn’t seem to bother you any,” he bit out, brown eyes flaring with unexpected scorn.

My eyebrows shot up, and I rushed out, “Fine, okay.”

He came around behind me and fastened his arm around my neck.

My heart thumped in my chest at being so close to him, so completely wrapped up in him. And then when I repeated the exercise, I would be wrapped around him.

If he wanted to, he could snap my neck in the span of a single breath. His behemoth bicep covered the entirety of my neck, past my collarbone. I breathed in the rich, warm scent of cedar and leather and—

“Take your right bicep in your left hand, behind your victim’s head, and squeeze.” He showed me the pressure without hurting me.

I expected the word victim to rattle around my brain for quite some time.

When he was confident I had those few details memorized, he motioned for me to jump onto his back.

In response to my hesitation, he gave an annoyed grumble. “I don’t bite, Aryella.” Flecks of darkness danced in his gaze and he smirked. “Unless you ask me to.”

Groaning, I lunged forward, up, and he caught me without stumbling, like my weight was nothing. For a man his size, I supposed that was true.

“Wrap your legs around my waist and hook your heels inside my thighs.”

I did as he commanded, fastening an accurate, albeit weak, chokehold around his thick neck. He was so broad that I could hardly fit around him, but I did my best.

His dark hair brushed against my cheek. A ripple of lightning, flanked by desire, shock, pleasure, and a little bit of terror, struck my stomach.

What compelled me to lean my mouth closer to his ear, to brush against him, lips on his skin, and say what I said, I’m not sure I will ever know.

“Why do I have the feeling I’m the first person in a very long time to have you in this position?”

His powerful body trembled with a shudder. His fingers tightened against my sleeve. And his pulse… it stuttered.

A feline smile—wholly uncharacteristic of the person I knew, the person I was—tugged at my mouth as I bit my lip.

“Are we interrupting?”

I was dropped to the ground as swiftly as possible without being thrown onto my rear.

Gemma and Ezra stood behind us. Ezra, scowling at Gavin. Gemma, arms crossed. Neither of them was pleased.

“He’s teaching me to kill someone with just my arms,” I explained, a little too rushed.

Gavin distanced himself from me by a few steps.

Gemma’s eyes darted suspiciously between us. “Uh-huh.”

“Time to go!” Finn broke the uncomfortable silence. A gift from the Selvaren if there ever was one.

Gavin made off toward camp without another glance in my direction. Gemma followed, and I meant to, but Ezra stopped me with a gentle grip on my wrist.