Chapter 15
“Ari,” Rafe hisses, trying to get my attention in the sparring circle next to me.
But I can’t take my eyes off of Jackson, who stares at the floor in front of us, rolling his shoulders back. God why is he even stretching – it’s not like he’s going to have to expend any energy at all to push me out of this circle – he could probably just growl at me and I’ll run screaming out of it myself –
“Ari!” Rafe hisses, and I snap my attention to him. “You can’t forfeit,” he whispers hastily, searching my face to ensure I understand. “If you do, you’ll be disqualified. Just try not to fall, all right? Just engage once, stay on your feet, and let him push you out –”
“Begin!” the Captain shouts at the front of the room.
–
Rafe hesitates, glancing between me and Ben, who steps into the ring, his staff clutched in his hands.
I nod hastily to Rafe, letting him know that I understand.
Then I look at Jackson – or, more correctly, up at Jackson, whose eyes are on me now. God, he just seems to keep going up, like a mountain – did he get like, taller? Since the last time I saw him?
Did I shrink?
“Come on,” Jackson grumbles, his voice flat as he nods towards the center of the circle, telling me to get inside. “Let’s get this over with.”
I stare at him, my legs locking in fear – or in something –
–
Because, as much as I need to concentrate on surviving this getting out of this ring as fast as I can – I just can’t stop wondering…
– on doing what Rafe
says and
…what the hell my grandmother the Goddess was thinking when she picked this guy as my
mate.
My eyes sweep over him again, and while he is obviously an impressive physical specimen, he’s just so brutal. There’s absolutely nothing about Jackson McClintock that looks capable of being soft, or kind, or making me laugh. Everything about him looks built for violence and cruelty- there is nothing there that’s sweet.
When I think about fated mates, I think about mom and dad, or Aunt Cora and Uncle Roger, whose personalities seem to have been made for each other. Mom’s soft side evens out dad’s harsh edges, but still deep down, they’re both fierce, dedicated, and loving. They even have the same weird sense of humor.
This guy? He’s…he’s supposed to match me?
I just stare at him, shaking my head in disbelief when he snaps his eyes up to mine.
demand, his words harsh enough to make me almost literally jump. My palms are sweaty as I take a single
sweep over me, his lip rising a little in distaste. “Are you even going to raise that?” he asks, nodding towards my staff. “Or should I just come…push you
something in the way he says that, the complete derision
something in
wolf growls in my chest, as pissed as I am.
his life, but he doesn’t have to be
-
it.
us like that, my wolf snaps. Even if he’s
her
her sentiments are right, she
tightening my hands on the staff, falling
of sticks banging against each other and bodies hitting mats all over the room.
say to myself, remembering Rafe’s words. Don’t let him
for me with a
sweep
I move in closer, knowing that he has $ chance of hurting me if he can’t use his whole range. Quickly, I use the butt of my staff to jab at the
because before I can comprehend what’s happening he gives a bellow, spins his staff in his hands and sweeps it behind me, hitting me hard behind my knees and taking me down.
mat. As I gasp for air all I can think is shit
can get to the edge of the circle, that if I get close Jackson can push me out and end the
my head so that it presses against my neck. When he pulls back, I’m lifted onto my knees, my back pressed to his chest, the staff choking me so that I can’t
–
Jackson demands, shouting the word above me. I nod frantically, trying
– Rafe but
interfere!” someone snaps.
–
his mouth is close to my ear now, “to yield
my shaking hands, trying to do whatever I can to
–
suddenly he goes rigid behind me, and then slack, and the staff falls away from my neck.
gasping for air. My eyes are shut as my face presses
spinning me – my back hits the floor
I realize that he’s losing control – that he’s going to
if he does that, I’m a goner – he’ll shred
hands going up, pressing to his chest, desperate to – I don’t know him off of me? Or
–
to get
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