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He lifted the Vorpal Sword, then motioned for me to attack.
And because of the newfound confidence I had now that I was wearing armor, I lunged with such speed and precision that even I surprised myself.
The White Knight wasn’t just going harder on me—that motherfucker was brutal. Relentless. That was the upside and the downside of having a mentor who demanded nothing but the best.
His grueling tactics pushed me to the brink of my physical and mental endurance, but as the hours and the days went on, he was slowly, methodically polishing me into an instrument of deadly precision. His burning red eyes held an unspoken promise—rise to his expectations...
Or crumble under the weight of failure.
I refused to crumble.
I’d been there, done that, and wasn’t about to do it again.
If I fell down nine times, I got up ten. I practiced until my muscles screamed in protest, and honed my sword fighting skills under his unwavering scrutiny. Our movements had gone from an awkward series of missteps to an erotic dance on the knife-edge of death.
Jack pushed me to the brink again and again, never satisfied until I was drenched in sweat and trembling from exhaustion.
But with each punishing session, I grew stronger.
Sharper.
Faster.
Our swords clashed in a flurry of sparks and the hard clangs of metal on metal. The air was thick with the metallic scent of exertion and the icy sharpness of the frost-covered walls that surrounded us. He knocked the blade from my grip and shoved me against the stone wall, pinning my wrists above my head. I looked past his broad, spiked, armored shoulder as my sword went skating across the icy ground, far beyond my reach.
“Do you want me to go easy on you, little girl?” he taunted, staring at me like a hungry white wolf. The heat pooling between my legs betrayed how much I craved his punishment.
“No,” I breathed from the safety of my own helm. I wanted him to ravage me, to break me, to mold me into the weapon he wanted.
I lifted my chin and shot him a determined smirk. “Do it again. And this time, do it harder.”
His red eyes gleamed on the other side of his horned helmet as his gaze raked over my body. He started to let go of my wrists, then let out a growl.
My sword was suddenly back in my hand, just as I’d imagined it. And the tip was pointed at Jack’s chest.
“I didn’t tell you to attack.”
“I know,” I said, openly gloating in satisfaction. “I was taught to take any shot my enemy is stupid enough to offer.”
I couldn’t see his mouth, but I could tell by the shape of Jack’s eyes that a slow, wicked smile had spread across his lips.
“That’s right,” he said, releasing my wrists as he stepped away from my blade. He was definitely smiling. I could hear it in his voice.
Suddenly the cold edge of the Vorpal Sword was grazing along my throat. “Never let your guard down, Alice. Not even with me.”
* * *
I woke up in the middle of the night to a dull, aching pain in my lower abdomen. I groaned into my pillow, immediately recognizing the familiar sensation of full-blown menstrual cramps.
But this was Wonderland. I tried to imagine my uterus not existing.
It didn’t work.
I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated harder.
Nope.
Still there.
