Page 39 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Her smirk sharpens. “Oh, you want motivation?” She presses the knife harder against my throat, leaning down closer. Her eyes drop to my mouth, just for a moment.

“If you keep looking at me like that, motivation won’t be the only problem.”

Her breath catches, and her weight shifts on top of me, just barely, lingering where it doesn’t need to. It takes everything I have not to pull her down and close the gap.

Her eyes continue to hold mine, with the knife still at my throat, but her grip has loosened like the point matters less than it did a moment ago. Her gaze flicks to the sword and then back to me. Neither of us moves.

“Gemma!” Grier’s voice cuts across the yard, sharp and commanding. “A word?”

Gemma blinks, like she’s just remembered where we are and that we have an audience. She pushes off me in one fluid motion, standing and walking toward Grier. I lean up on my forearm, watching those hips as she goes.

Finn approaches, looking down at me. “You good to actually train now?”

I glance up at him, expecting amusement, but there’s something else, more like a warning.

He pulls me up, but my attention drifts across the yard, to Gemma and Grier. He’s standing close to her. Not inappropriately, but closer than I like, and the way he’s looking at her makes heat rise in me. Grier says something to her I can’t hear, then turns to address all of us.

“All right, change of plans. I’m taking over for a bit. Gemma and I will demonstrate the next technique, a full speed disarm with counter.”

Of course he is.

They move to the center of the training circle. This is Grier, the Commander. When he demonstrates, you pay attention. He hands Gemma a knife and takes his position across from her.

“The key is reading your opponent’s commitment. Once they’re locked in, you have your opening.”

Gemma attacks. Fast.

Grier moves, catching her wrist, redirecting her momentum. But she counters before he can complete the disarm, twisting out of his grip and resetting.

They go again.

This time, when Gemma strikes, Grier steps in close, catching her wrist and trapping her arm against his chest while his other hand controls her weapon hand. The knife drops.

But he doesn’t let go. He’s holding her there, pressed against him, as he addresses us.

“If your opponent is more skilled than you, you have to use the advantages you have. In this case, size and strength.” He adjusts his grip to demonstrate.

Every muscle in my body goes tight. Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Her.

The rational side of me knows this is a demonstration. That Grier is the Commander. That this is literally his job. The rest of me wants to cross that yard and break his grip myself.

Grier continues, “Once you’ve controlled both the weapon hand and their center of mass, even a better fighter can’t counter. See how her movement is completely restricted?”

Gemma isn’t fighting the hold. She isn’t tense. If anything, she’s…relaxed. Like she’s been there before.

“I think we get it,” I say, my voice coming out harder than intended.

The yard stills. Too many eyes lift at once.

Grier’s eyebrows pull together, and for half a heartbeat, I consider pretending I meant something else. A joke, anything that could be folded back into normal.

But it’s too late.

Grier releases Gemma. His hand lingers at her wrist a fraction longer than necessary before he steps away, already reclaiming the space.

My jaw clenches hard enough to hurt, and I feel Finn tense beside me.

“That’s enough for today,” Grier says.