“But you have heard of me,” I say with a wink.
His lip curls into a sneer. He didn’t get the reference, I assume. I smile at his reaction. Exactly what I want.
“You’re nothing,” Rev says, his voice low and husky. “A murderer, whose days are numbered.”
I allow darkness to fill me. My eyes hooded and lazy, a bitter smile still on my lips. I put my hands on my hips. “And?” I flick an arrogant eyebrow.
At this, his anger erupts. His carefully controlled manner is gone as he stomps towards me, power rippling from him. I accept his hatred. I let it fill me. Surround me.
His hand is around my throat before I blink a second time, my head slammed against the tree trunk. The pain that shoots down my back chases away the fear. The insecurity. It fuels me. Empowers me.
In only moments, my lungs struggle for breath. “And you’re in my world,” he whispers, and I shiver at the feeling of his breath on my neck. If he only knew how much I liked it.
I grit my teeth, unwilling to fight back or show weakness. My body begins to squirm involuntarily as air remains absent from my burning lungs. He presses harder, and I grip his forearm. “You are weak. You will lose much more than this competition before your time here is done. I look forward to watching you writhe in pain.”
He throws me to the ashen pathway and spits at my fallen body. My ankle twists as I go down. I gasp for breath, fingers clawing into the muddy forest floor. Nameless guy howls with laughter, but Rev says nothing more as they continues their jog as if it never happened at all.
Rev
Isprint the rest ofour run. I don’t stop until my lungs are raging, my legs burning and my head throbbing. At some point in the last mile, I lost Rook. I stand outside the steps to the back of the manor, hands on my knees as I pant.
“Damn.” Brielle skips down the steps towards me. “I’d wondered where you went off to. Looks like you’re torturing yourself before we begin.” Her laugh is light as bell. Delicate. Annoying.
I don’t respond, in part because I can’t stop heaving in massive breaths.
“Where did Rook go off to? I assumed he’d be with you.” She tilts her head innocently.
As if on cue, Rook rounds the corner, shoulders slumped and face red. He stops next to me, his chest heaving in breaths to match my own. “What the hell, Rev? You’d think you were running for your damn life.”
I roll my eyes. “Just because.” I suck in a breath, “you couldn’t,” another breath, “keep up.”
Brielle laughs again. “You know you only have a half hour until the banquet begins. You might want tobathe.” She wrinkles her nose at our sweat-drenched tunics.
“Beat you to it!” Rook says, jogging up the stairs. Damn, how does he still have energy? I follow behind slowly and Brielle falls into stride beside me. She’s already dressed in her glammed up warrior garb. She’s the Flicker Court’s chosen champion, but I know she’s displeased with the fact that she can’t wear a dress for this first banquet. We’ll begin our trials immediately after and she can’t battle in a skirt. Not that she wouldn’t be willing to try.
I was there while her family fought her—literally— into wearing those leather pants, which she only conceded to once she called her seamstress in to add in a removable shear skirt over top, beaded belt, and low cut satin top. She’s still not pleased, but perhaps she’ll change her mind when she realizes she’s easily the best dressed champion to date.
