Ravage (Royal Fae Academy #1) - Lacey Carter Andersen Page 0,18
her to her feet, we’re suddenly too close again. Taking a step back from her, I clear my throat and try to remember that I’m here to teach Esmeray much-needed skills.
“Again.”
We circle each other, and I can see it in her face. She’s taking this a little more seriously this time. Esmeray was always the competitive type. Maybe that would be enough to get her to actually learn something.
Her mouth opens into a shocked O when I grab her and knock her back onto the ground softly. Then her eyes narrow, and this time she ignores my hand when I offer it. We spar some more, and I notice that when I correct her, she actually applies the feedback, even if she pretends not to. By the end, I’m having to constantly block the attacks to my eyes and groin, and when she manages to kick my knees out from under me, she grins above me in triumph.
I can’t help myself. When she offers me her hand, I yank her down beside me.
We both grin, then sit up, taking a minute to catch our breath.
“So this is what you’ve been doing here?” she pants. “Beating up women?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
“And I bet it’s been so hard to roll around with a bunch of blondes.” She says it with a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes.
I almost shrug again, but force myself to answer instead. “None of these women are…my type.”
“None of them?” she asks, raising a brow.
“No.” I let a slow breath out. “I like my women a little…darker. I like them with an edge.”
“Know any fae like that?”
“I do,” I say, holding her gaze for a second too long before she looks away.
“Well, I’m not going to be filling my time up here with men either.” I feel relieved for the briefest second before she continues, “Except for when I need a good lay.”
It takes effort to hide my emotions, to hide the jealousy and rage that flare to life inside of me. “So then, you’ll be focused on your classes?”
She gives a humorless laugh. “No. I don’t give a fuck about my classes. The only reason I came here…” She stops talking abruptly.
“Why did you come here, Esmeray?”
Rolling her neck, she looks to the other people in the class. “I guess we’re practicing using weapons now.”
“Esmeray--”
She stands, ignoring me as she heads for the weapons’ stand. I knew she was getting into trouble already, but I didn’t consider that she might be looking for it. We’d have to do something about that. No, Bron would have to handle that. I had no idea how to tell this woman no about anything.
I follow her to the stand and hand her a dagger, before taking my own. For a little while, we practice in front of the mirror. I show her how to hold it, how to attack in different ways and different situations, and then we go to the targets and I teach her how to throw them.
All of this is so natural to me, like breathing, but that’s expected from the child of the Luthers. My family were known as warriors, as the best of the best. We were coveted. While from the moment I was born I was taught to be the heir of our house, to not just fight, but to lead, my brothers were sought after before they could take their first step. Every father wanted his daughter to marry one of us. Every family wanted to know that if they were in danger, we would come to their aid.
Sometimes I forgot that not everyone was raised the way I was. Lucian was given the typical tutors for fighting, but I also taught him everything I knew. And while Bron learned things from me, the way his step-father had taught him to fight was not something I could replicate.
Not something I’d want to replicate.
My family was fierce, but they weren’t cruel. They didn’t glory in losing control. They didn’t enjoy scaring children. So all of my friends kept pace with me when we practiced. It was only in these classes that I was reminded that most of the fae lacked our skills.
So as I teach Esmeray, I remind myself to go slowly with her. Even though she picks up the movements as quickly as Rayne once did. And for a time, it feels like I’m not just teaching another student to fight. I’m teaching my mate to protect herself… There is no better thing a man