Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,46
a soft ache at this point—every time he passes by.
The class is also sucky for other reasons. One, I’m not grouped with the Evermore students. Two, I’m expected to fight against higher Fae like Inara and Rhaegar. And three, because I’m both mortal and Fae, I have to pass proficiency tests in both skill sets.
Thank Shimmer the first half of the Evermore physical exams are strictly combat based. It isn’t until the second half that they implement magic.
The shadows, on the other hand, focus much more on iron-infused weaponry.
“Get ready,” a low voice growls.
I blink, focusing on the brutish face in front of me. Rhaegar’s lips are wrenched sideways in a cruel sneer.
How did I ever find him attractive?
More importantly, why is his arm rearing back?
Last thing I recall was lining up on the Fae mat to choose partners . . .
Oh, crapsicle.
My mind pieces together what’s happening as it unfolds.
The thick muscles of his neck flex, shoulders bunching beneath his dark suit as his arm draws back.
Paired together!
His meaty fist surges straight for my nose.
Sparring!
There’s no time to duck so I throw up my hands in a defensive position, deflecting the blow as best as I can. Stone-hard knuckles slam into my forearms, driving my fists into my forehead hard enough to momentarily blackout my vision and send me careening back. I throw out my arms and dig into the mat with my toes, using my core to stabilize. If I hadn’t blocked that he would have knocked me out.
I glare above my fists at him. “I wasn’t ready.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your whore eyes off the Winter Prince. Looks like he’s finally realized you’re a liability though.”
Okay, dick clown’s going to pay for that.
It’s only now, as I glide in a circle around Rhaegar, my neck aching from looking up to meet his eyes, that I realize the universe has given me a present. A lumbering, pissed off present gift wrapped in anger.
Anger is good. It dulls the senses and makes him more controllable, more predictable.
A stillness comes over me. I’ll only get one chance at this.
I bounce on the balls of my toes, gliding left to right, letting him get used to the pattern until his mind thinks it can predict my movements. He drives forward and I retreat, still bouncing on my toes as we inch toward the far corner of the mat. This spot is secluded, partially obscured by hanging bags and a grappling dummy.
Rhaegar practically purrs with excitement. He thinks now that we’re alone he can do whatever he wants.
The idiot doesn’t realize that I’m drawing him in. Neither does the crowd forming around us. Their excitement over my upcoming beatdown is almost palpable.
A few even pull out their phones and start to record.
Eclipsa glances over at us from where she works with two Evermore, but I keep my stare laser focused on the lumbering bully advancing on me. On the periphery of Rhaegar’s hulking form, I catch Valerian leaned against the mirrored wall watching us.
Slow down, Valerian orders into my mind. He needs to think he’s the one in control.
I hate that Valerian’s first contact with me in days is to bark orders—almost as much as I hate that he’s right.
So bossy.
Focus, he commands.
I slow my retreat, waiting until Rhaegar prowls closer to move. I’m still weaving left to right. Still working to establish a pattern in Rhaegar’s mind so that he thinks he can predict my movements.
He licks his lips, his energy trickling into the air. He’s not supposed to use magic, not until after Christmas, but that doesn’t stop him, of course. The dark magic paws at my legs, my arms, searching for a foothold to slow me down.
That’s when he’ll pounce.
“Who’s going to save you now, little princess?” His sneer widens into a feline smile, and holy crap, his canines are lowering. “Your fiancé?”
Not likely. We both glance over at Hellebore. He’s sitting off the mat between the long, toned legs of a goat shifter Fae, shirtless, eyes half slitted as she massages his neck.
The disinterest in Hellebore’s gaze isn’t promising, and when he gives me a thumbs-up . . . he’s basically giving Rhaegar license to do whatever he wants.
Prick.
“We both know the Winter Prince won’t do anything. Not after you promised to give yourself fully to Hellebore. And your fiancé . . . well he seems like he’s going to enjoy the show.”