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Two large men are fighting, their swords flashing. My belly squirms with pleasure when I realize the bigger of the two men is Zabriel, and he’s training with a man who I suspect is another Alpha I don’t recognize. My feet slow to a stop as I watch the king deftly parry a blow that was about to split his head open.
The sunlight glints on his proud cheekbones, and the blade he carries is as sharp as his jawline. Even the way he moves is beautiful. A show of strength, precision, and deadly elegance. Is it just my imagination, or is Zabriel getting even better-looking? I absentmindedly rub the back of my neck, which is suddenly aching.
Alpha is the most talented swordsman in Maledin. Such a big, thick sword.
My cheeks burn red. Oh, shut up. Stupid voice. The breathy, needy voice that sounds exactly like my own.
The sparring grows more intense. Zabriel’s partner swings his blade in a vicious arc and slices open his shirt. I breathe in sharply in panic, but the sword hasn’t cut into Zabriel’s flesh. While his partner is overbalanced, Zabriel brings his sword down and stops just short of the other man’s wrist.
“Disarmed,” he announces.
They both relax and step back. With one hand, Zabriel rips his torn shirt off and casts it aside. Sunlight glints on his sweaty muscles, and his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing. Silky black hair adorns his broad shoulders. Thick, hard lines on either side of his hips arrow down into his pants, and my eyes swan dive with them. Tight pants. I think I see the outline of something swollen inside them. Unwittingly, my teeth sink into my lower lip.
Zabriel looks up and sees me.
And smirks.
He twirls the practice sword with a flourish and sinks into a bow. “Lady Isavelle. What a pleasure it is to have you observe me today.” His smirk tells me he caught me staring at his knot.
Stars above, he’s so smug.
Every soldier on the training grounds follows his lead and bows. Flustered, I glance this way and that, wondering if I’m supposed to curtsey to all these men in return.
Fiala whispers behind me, “Do nothing, my lady. Chin up and look proud.”
I straighten up a little and try to look like I know what I’m doing. After they’ve bowed to me, the soldiers go back to whatever they were doing, and Zabriel places his sword on a rack and saunters toward me.
“What brings you this way,sha’len? Were you looking for me?” Zabriel asks when he’s standing in front of me. I barely notice that he’s half naked.
I want to lick Alpha’s chest.
I can think whole thoughts in my head about many complex things.
Does Alpha think I look pretty today?
“There’s such a lovely color in your cheeks,sha’len,” Zabriel murmurs. “Did you eat well today? I hope you’ve been drinking enough silkmallow tea and winterberry juice.”
I feel rather than see Fiala and Dusan draw back to give Zabriel and me some privacy.
“I’m fine, thank you. Why are you asking about tea?”
Zabriel often shows concern that I’m eating enough, but he’s never asked if I’m drinking enough before.
He smiles wolfishly at me. “Omegas sometimes get thirsty.”
I realize what he’s implying. That I slicked myself while watching him win a sparring match. I rub the back of my neck and squint at the sky. “Is it hot today? Everything feels itchy. Even my clothes are annoying me.” I tug at my neckline and flex my neck to one side.
Zabriel toys with one of his sharp teeth with his tongue, his red gaze fixed on my throat. It’s the look he gets when he’s thinking about kissing me.
“Don’t look at me like that when I’m feeling so wretched.”
“I’m sorry,sha’len. Your mate can’t help but hunger for you when your scent is so fragrant. Is your neck aching?”
“Yes. Everything aches, actually.”
He smiles at me. “My little Omega’s first false heat is nearly here. How wonderful.”
I stare at him in shock. Panic makes my stomach spasm. “Are you sure? Maybe I’m just getting sick.”
