Page 14 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

Ryker

I’ve just left the dorm leaders meeting when I see a crowd gathering in the halls leading down to the basement gym. It’s been a long day playing catch-up. A student from my dorm bonded with one in Veker, but it’s better than the two couples from Bragr.

Apparently, while on a training mission off-campus, things got a little out of hand. With no supervision, camping in tents under the stars, some students thought they’d have some fun. I’m just grateful I don’t have to be the one to call their parents and their kings.

I push through the crowd, barking orders to move. The stairs clear, the nobility making themselves small against either side, their backs pressed into the walls. Something is drawing more than half my dorm to the basement, and I want to know why.

When I reach the gym, the familiar scent of leather and sweat accosts me, but I can’t pull my eyes from the mat where Trysten is watching Raea spar with some asshat from Oris. He’s a cocky little shit I’ve pinned on the mat a few times. I was expecting to find her in her room unpacking.

I step to the edge of the mat beside Trysten.

Without asking, he says, “She needed to get some energy out.”

My gaze shifts toward him. He’s leaving something out.

He sighs. “You know her. She pushed until I gave in, and now…” He gestures toward Raea. “This is the second fight. She won the first. Kicked his ass, actually.” He grins proudly.

He’s done a great job with her training.

To my right, Tate and Ciara are watching, muttering something about a bet. Tate guffaws, throwing his head back as he shakes on it.

Raea grunts, taking a hit to her ribcage.

My fists curl, but I don’t move. I can’t. She’s fine. Better than I’ve seen before. I know it’s her grief fueling those punches. She’s been hiding it since we returned, but I see every bit of grief, sadness, and confusion hidden behind her gaze.

She’s quick on her feet, and with a well-timed kick to the gut, he falls to his knees. She stands over him, her eyes full of grief and despair, but she masks it, letting it fuel her anger.

“Yield!” she barks over the cacophony of students watching the match. He shakes his head. “Yield,” she screams again, more desperate than the last as she bares her teeth.

He spits blood at her feet.

She jumps back, shocked and disgusted.

Trysten’s watching me out of the corner of his eyes as if he’s waiting for me to respond. It’s taking every ounce of restraint not to go out there and bash his head in.

Raea steps forward, grabbing his head and bringing it straight down on her knee. He cries out in pain.

My beautiful, tender mate looks lethal standing over him in her cropped black t-shirt, her sweat-slicked skin, and her damp hair clinging to her face. I want to cross the mats and claim her right here, in front of everyone.

She’s mine.

Just when I think asshat will finally yield, he lunges. He wraps his arms around her legs, knocking her to the mat with a loud thud. Her back hits the mat, and she screams in frustration. She’s about to roll to her feet when he pins her down, his body flush against hers.

I see red.

In a moment, the fucker has his hands around her throat.

Trysten looks at me, then back to the mats.

Raea throws her hips, almost slipping free, but his grip tightens, cutting off her air.

That’s it. I’m done watching. I move before I think. She manages to knee him between the thighs, but before he can react, I’m already throwing him off her.

The room silences at once, with only a few gasps echoing throughout.

Trysten moves, going for Raea first. He helps her up as my arm tightens around asshat’s throat.

“Do you like how this feels?” I squeeze tighter until his airways are cut off. “Touch her again and you’ll find yourself without the ability to ever breathe again.”