Blade Song - By J.C. Daniels Page 0,100

was at Aneris Hall—my family home, and there, my grandmother’s word was law. My blood is too weak to be a real warrior in her eyes, but she’d beat as much human weakness out of me as she could. I passed the exams when I was nine, but I stumbled at the end and they took off points, so she beat me again. After that, it was like she found reasons to do it often. Sometimes it was a monthly event. It got to be where everybody knew I’d be whipped when the school session closed. A few parents could make up reasons to not attend, but a lot of them would just sit there…and watch while she whipped me.”

“Enough,” he said.

“No.” I caught his shoulder, shoved my right arm in front of him. There were no scars—the healers of Aneris Hall were skilled and while they’d hurt me like hell, they did it without leaving a mark. “Remember when you told me I couldn’t hold my blade forever and I told you otherwise? It’s a skill I learned young—after my grandmother broke my arm when I was eight, and again when I was fourteen. All because I lowered my guard. I was eight years old the first time and I lowered my blade, Damon. I’d been practicing for four hours and I was tired. I lowered it and she broke my arm. The next time, I was a skinny, underweight teenager. I weighed eighty pounds and my weapon was a two-handed battle axe designed for a man more than twice my size. I dropped my guard in practice and while my aunts watched—my mother’s sisters—that evil bitch broke my arm and busted my collarbone.”

“Stop it,” he snarled. He gripped my head between his hands, pressing his brow to mine, eyes squeezed shut. “Just…stop, damn it.” A shudder wracked him. “Why tell me this now?”

“They could have stopped it. My aunt Rana would sometimes look at me with pity in her eyes. There were times she’d slip me food, or when my clothes were falling apart, she’d make sure I had something else so I wasn’t walking around naked. Others would look away from me because they couldn’t stand the shame they felt—I saw that on them. Some of them pitied me, but they were terrified of her. And if enough of them had said something, or if they’d all stood together, they could have stopped her. And Rana was strong enough to stand up to her, but she never did. So I suffered for it. Right now, the entire clan suffers because of one crazy bitch. And you’re strong enough to take her out?”

His hand shot out and fisted in my hair. “You know what’s going to happen if I do it? It makes me the Alpha. I’m not a fucking leader.”

“Like hell.” I curled my lip at him.

“I’m not. Not to mention that if I did, it would put you up as a target, baby girl.” Curling one hand around my wrist, he pressed his fingers on the scars. “I marked you. Right now, I’m just a grunt—a strong one, but I have no real position in the pack because I won’t take one. If I take her out, everybody around me, everybody who matters becomes a target. It’s not an issue with her because nobody matters to her and it’s not a secret. The main reason Doyle was safe was because he was a child and attacks on children are not accepted. Whether or not he’s safe now will depend on whether or not he makes himself independent of the clan. But if I take her out, people will see you as a target—a way to get to me. Fucking no.”

“I’m not that easy of a target,” I said quietly.

“No.” It was a hot growl against my lips but I turned away.

Pressing against his chest, I stared at him. “You do what you have to, Damon. But if you keep letting her brutalize and terrify people when you can do better…”

Something cold settled in me.

“I told you it was permanent, baby girl,” he said quietly. “I meant it.”

I arched a brow at him. “Then we better find a way to work through this because I can’t live knowing you look past the kind of cruelty that I had to live with, Damon. I can’t.”

The silence that fell between us was heavy and cold.

He went to get into the car, but before he could, I crossed to him.

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