Grave War (Alex Craft #7) - Kalayna Price Page 0,1
me better—I might have even stood a chance as the enchanted blade possessed an intelligence that guided my hand. But Falin had insisted I learn to duel without the enchanted dagger. I’d increase my chances of surviving if I had skill to back up the blade’s magic, or so he claimed. The problem was, I had absolutely no skill at combat.
Falin’s foot shot out in a sweeping blow. I was expecting it; the move was one of the attacks we’d been practicing all night. I leapt to the side, but not fast enough. My feet flew out from under me and my ass slammed into the ground, the air bursting from my lungs. Before I could blink, Falin followed me down, and my back hit the ice, his knee planted in my sternum. Not hard—he avoided knocking the air out of me a second time—but the move effectively pinned me to the ice. I jerked my arm up, trying to block the blade I knew was coming next.
The rasp and clang of metal colliding filled the air, and for an elated moment, I thought I’d actually succeeded in stopping his dagger. Then the bite of dull steel pressed at my throat.
Falin lifted one pale eyebrow. “Better.”
“But I’m still dead,” I said with a huff as he removed the tip of his dagger from the hollow of my throat.
“Yes, but you’re getting faster. You got your dagger up in time to try to defend. That’s progress.”
“Try” being the key word in that sentence. Yay me. Not.
“Again,” he said as he stood with effortless grace. I just glared from where I was sprawled on the floor. He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed, but at least he held out a hand to help me up.
I accepted, letting him haul me to my feet, but as I straightened, I feigned a stumble. He, of course, didn’t let me fall. Knock my ass to the floor while training? Not an issue. But he wouldn’t let me trip. Keeper, right?
As he caught my arm, I moved into him. The fingers of my empty hand skittered up the front of his shirt, and I felt him tense, as if trying to determine if this was an attack. I flashed him a smile, and then took a very deliberate gaze down his body. While I was out of breath, sweaty, and likely flushed from sparring, he looked amazing. The top few buttons of his shirt were open, flashing the lean muscles of his chest. The lightest glimmer of perspiration dusted that exposed skin, making it look absolutely lickable. My eyes continued their wandering perusal, taking in his perfectly chiseled features, full lips, sharp cheekbones, and intense blue eyes.
I let my appreciation show in my face as I looked back up at him and bit my bottom lip. His gaze shot to my mouth, and the tension in his body changed. His arms slid around me, drawing me even closer. Then his mouth met mine.
Our history was complicated. We slept together months ago in a coupling that was probably more emotional than it should have been for how short we’d known each other at the time and for how many secrets we’d both been holding. But it had been a one-time event. Circumstances—and by that, I mostly mean the fact that Falin had been sworn to obey an insane queen—had prevented any further exploration of a relationship. Well, that and the fact that I’d briefly dated Death, a soul collector whose real name I still didn’t know. Death and I broke up nearly two months ago, and the Winter Queen was dead, so theoretically nothing stood between Falin and me. But we seemed to be taking things slow. Frustratingly slow, even for someone with my commitment issues. Not that we were doing it intentionally. In the two weeks since the doors to Faerie had reopened, we hadn’t managed to secure much uninterrupted time together.
The sexual tension had been building, and it was palpable on our lips, on the thrust of his tongue as my mouth parted for him. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and his hands slid a warm line up my back, pulling me closer. I was even more out of breath by the time we broke apart.
“You were supposed to score a hit before we took a break,” Falin said, his voice amused and his lips so close they brushed against mine as he spoke.