Page 48 of A Thief Among Fae

I punch. Instead of dodging, he stumbles. My fist collides with his face, jerking his head to the side. For the first time, he looks surprised. Then he grins, but the sharp glint in his hazel eyes is a clear taunt. His next hit comes without warning—a blunt impact to my cheekbone.

Shit. I stagger back, clutching my cheek. He held back his strength again, but it’ll still bruise.

He’s behind me before my circling blades can even graze him. His arm crooks around my neck, forcing me into a headlock.

No. I won’t let him take me down so easily. I reach back and yank on his earring. He swears, but he doesn’t let go. I can’t see him, don’t know where I’m aiming as my blades slash again and again, but he hisses as he deflects one with his forearm, then snatches it. Blood sprays the floor as he flings it at the target. It hits dead center. The other, he plucks from midair with a low laugh.

Shit, he’s good.

“You’ve let yourself become trapped,” Desmond says. He spins me to face his body, sweeps his leg under mine, and then slams me into the mat. The air is sucked out of my lungs. Stars swim in my vision as he sits atop me, one knee on either side of my thighs.

He snatches my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand. Then he presses my dagger to my throat. The blade tickles my neck, featherlight. I glare up at him as he looks coldly down at me. He’s too close. My pulse quickens as his own heartbeat echoes through my wrist, steady and unfazed.

With only inches between us, his eyes look more green than brown. They’re flecked with brilliant gold. Like velvety moss in a sunlit copse.

“So it seems your threat was a bluff,” he whispers, his breath warm against my cheek. “You haven’t broken me yet.”

He could cut me, scar me. But he hasn’t.

“I’ve got time,” I whisper back. “And there are plenty of ways to break a male.”

Desmond’s smirk falters. His eyes widen, and his throat bobs with a swallow.

Got you.

I grin even though he still has me at his mercy. His head tilts toward mine, his curls brushing my temple. “You haven’t the slightest idea what I can withstand,” he whispers in my ear. He angles the dagger so the scrollwork catches the light—a moon. It’s one Seb forged for my birthday. “I’ll be keeping this since it’s customary when the winner spares the loser’s life.”

My mouth goes dry as I glare up at him. “Not that one,” I hiss. It’s not the taunting whisper or his legs firmly pinning mine that enrages me. It’s the dagger—my last Gift from Sebastian before he left Nettlerock.

Finnian clears his throat. “I’m still here, in case you two forgot.”

“Yes, please finish gloating and get off me,” I say through gritted teeth.

Desmond stands, then twirls the dagger and sheathes it at his hip. I realize that he didn’t have enough daggers to fill every sheath. One was already empty. He knew I’d challenge him, and that he’d win. I force out a breath as I try to hide how much that pisses me off.

“We’ll train from dawn to after dusk. There’s no time to waste.” To my surprise, he offers his hand to me.

This would be the moment where he pretends to be chivalrous but knocks me on my ass again, just to prove he can.

I don’t take it. I push myself to my feet.

He’s quiet as he watches me. Not a hint of emotion leaks through our strange connection. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

“Tell me why I’m here. What do you need me to do in Olin’s tomb?” I demand.

Desmond cradles his jaw in his hand, massaging where I landed the hit. “The location of the tomb isn’t known by many. It’s a secret guarded amongst raiders, but none have reached the treasure. From the intel we’ve gathered, we think we know why. A survivor of the last band who attempted said they encountered a bit of an obstacle.”

Finnian snorts. “A bit, you say.”

Desmond ignores him. “There’s a chasm sixty paces wide and at least twice as deep. Few can throw a grappling hook that distance, and the survivor said that there are. . . things in the darkness of the chasm.” He pauses, letting suspense hang in the air. “Most raiders would be familiar with draugr, so I assume it’s something worse.”

I’m piecing their plan together, but I’m not thrilled about it. “You want me to levitate all five of us across a giant chasm on a flimsy wooden board?” My voice quivers with exhaustion and indignation. How in hell does he expect me to do that? “I didn’t join you because I have a death wish!”

“No, you’ll stake down a bridge on both sides, and support our weight in the event of something trying to break it,” he says.

“What a relief,” I snipe. “Now it sounds like an evening stroll!”

“Don’t forget about the way out, too,” Finnian says. “Otherwise, the tomb will be our very deadly, very unsettling new home.”