The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,48

beginning. And he blocks every hit. From the right. To the left. Straight ahead. It doesn’t matter which direction I go, he’s there to stop me.

My movements are becoming wilder. Less coordinated. The more times I miss, the angrier I get. Each impact echoes in the training yard, and every single sound mocks me.

Another noise joins the attack, and it reminds me of a parachute opening.

Then I see Damon’s wings come out in all their glory. They’re beautiful and dangerous looking, the smooth gray expanse creating large shadows behind him.

In awe and intimidated, I’m stunned for a second. He takes advantage of the diversion. Flapping once, he propels himself up and over my head. When he lands behind me, he encases my body with his arms in an impossibly tight hold.

The blunt edge of his fake weapon presses to my throat, and he delivers a sensual kiss to my neck. “What are you going to do now, my queen?”

Wiggling, I try to move, but it’s useless. He’s got me defeated, and he knows it.

I decide a different tactic is needed. Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong.

Failure hasn’t stopped me from enjoying the lesson. My heart is pumping, and I can feel every beat between my thighs.

Melting against Damon, I practically purr as I rub my backside along his front. I’m pretty sure he’s already hard, and I grind my ass against the stiff swell in his pants.

He grunts as if in pain, and he lowers the blade from my pounding jugular.

I turn my head. Damon’s lips are just inches away. All he’d have to do is bend down to close the distance. Fog from the warmth of our breath puffs between us in the Night Realm air, and I can almost taste him.

His arms loosen, and he slides his free hand up my stomach. Just as he reaches the underside of my breast, I smile deviously.

While I’d love to keep going, I have to get some of my pride back.

I spin away from him and cut my sword through the air, missing him by a foot on purpose.

Crying out, I pretend to twist my ankle as I fall to the grass.

“Whitley!” Concerned, Damon kneels next to me. “What happened?”

“A sprain maybe.” I add a sniffle for extra sympathy.

He tosses his weapon away to give me his full attention.

Mistake.

As he inspects my leg with probing touches, I launch my sword through the air. It whacks him on the forehead with a dull thud, and he falls backward.

Regret slams into me when moonlight glints off the trickle of blood coming from a gash over his eyebrow.

“Damon?” I gasp, scrambling over to him. He just blinks up at me with unfocused eyes, like he can’t believe that happened. Taking turns between peppering his face with kisses and fretting over the cut, I whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

He grins wide. “Another rule—don’t apologize to your opponent.”

“But—”

“You did well.” He sits up and lets me examine the damage. The bleeding has already slowed, and he won’t stop smiling. “Trickery is encouraged, especially if you’re up against someone more experienced than you. You couldn’t have bested me any other way.”

I nod. It was ridiculous to think I could possibly take Damon on in a fight. I saw him on the road with those men. Even blind, he’s ten times better than anyone else.

“As long as you don’t lie,” he adds, “it’s all good.”

“What’s wrong with lying?”

“For you? Nothing right now. But once you’re fae? Pain. A lot of it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Dishonesty pollutes the soul, and believe me, you feel it in the worst way. Some of the worst of our kind started out good, but they grew darker and darker with each lie. Fortunately, sarcasm is excluded. It’s a shame more of us don’t take advantage of it. Some faeries are so literal. I, on the other hand, have mastered it.”

I suck on my cheek to restrain a smile. “I see humility is a strong trait of yours as well.”

“Atta girl.” Damon chucks me on the chin. “Being a smartass will get you far here.” As if he can see me, he sends me an accusing look. “Let’s not pretend you don’t find me outrageously charming.”

I do, and he knows it.

“What about thieves?” I ask, thinking of our hiccup with the bandits. “Isn’t stealing a form of deceit?”

Dabbing his cut with a handkerchief, Damon shakes his head. “Not if they can strong-arm people into bending to their whims. Notice how they gave