#82 Blood, Sweat & Bond
Blood, Sweat & Bond
Ryanna POV
Castle StarFury Training Fields
The crowd still buzzed from my match with Veyra, whispers were rippling through the soldiers like wildfire, but I shook them off. My blood was thrumming too hard, the bond sparking under my skin. My hunger wasn't for food but for more. More training, more power.
“Alright, boys,” I said, planting my fists on my hips, my leathers clinging slick with sweat. “Your turn. Show me what you’ve got, and don’t hold back. I want to bleed, bruise, and come out meaner than before.”
Kaelan grinned wide, his golden eyes gleaming. “Careful what you ask for, little wolf.” The bond hummed with anticipation as he stepped forward, tossing me a long dagger. “First lesson? Flow, not force. You’re strong, sure, but strength burns out. Speed lasts.”
He lunged without warning, his blade flashing. I blocked swiftly, the dagger shaking in my grip, and he used the opening to sweep my legs out from under me. My ass hit the dirt with a graceless thud. “See?” he said, offering a hand, smug as sin.
I growled and ignored it, pushing to my feet. “Do that again, Stormfang, and I’ll shove this blade up your...”
“Focus,” he cut in, laughing. “Short strikes. Keep moving. You’re quicker than you think.” We sparred until my arms burned, his golden eyes sparkling every time I landed a blow. When he finally disarmed me, the blade flying into the dirt, he winked. “Better. Keep that up and maybe you’ll actually keep me on my toes.”
Lucien was next, stepping into the dirt circle like a shadow made flesh. “Knives and blades are cute,” he said, silver eyes gleaming, “but you’ve got a pistol. Ever actually used it outside of Mafia theatrics?” I snorted, pulling my black pistol from its holster. “My father made me shoot wine bottles at twelve, shadows. I can handle it.”
“Show me.” Targets shimmered into place, conjured by the castle, moving discs of light darting like fireflies. I fired three shots, fast. Two hit dead center. The third missed wide, ricocheting into the dirt. Lucien smirked. “Good. But good’s not perfect.” His shadows swirled around the targets, making them dart faster. “Again. This time, breathe with the bond. Feel me steadying you.”
His calm washed through me, anchoring my hands. I fired again, three shots, three kills. The soldiers cheered. Lucien leaned close, whispering dark and smug, “Perfect, my Queen.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the shiver. Damn men.
Rhydor stepped in then, all sexy bulk and black eyes, a boulder in motion. He shoved a heavy bow into my hands, along with a quiver of arrows. “You’ve got patience for guns,” he rumbled. “Let’s see if you’ve got patience for this.”
The bow was heavy, my arms trembling as I pulled the string back. He adjusted my stance, his broad hands steadying my hips. “Feet apart. Shoulders square. Exhale when you loose.”
The arrow flew wide, missing the target entirely. Laughter rang from the soldiers. My cheeks burned. Rhydor’s growl silenced them all. He leaned close, his breath hot at my ear. “Again.” This time I focused. Felt the weight, the draw, the balance. Exhaled. Released.
Thunk. Dead center. A grin spread across my face. Rhydor grunted approval, the closest he got to praise. “You’ll do.”
Darian stepped forward next, blue eyes gleaming sharp behind his glasses. “Precision,” he said simply. He handed me a throwing knife.
“I thought this was Aedryos’s specialty,” I said, twirling it.
“It is. But technique matters before flair.” He guided my arm, correcting my angle. “Don’t throw like you’re angry. Throw like you’re ending a problem.” I inhaled, exhaled, and let the knife fly. It buried itself in the target’s shoulder. “Not bad,” he said, smiling faintly. “Now again. Until it’s instinct.”
By the time he was done with me, my arms felt like lead and sweat slicked my temples. Aedryos finally approached, ancient calm in his starfire eyes, his voice smooth. “Knives, axes, weapons of flight. Tools for war.” He handed me a small axe, the blade gleaming wicked in the sun. “Feel the weight. Let it carry you, not the other way around.”
He demonstrated once, his throw so fluid it looked like the axe wanted to fly. It buried itself into the target with a solid crack.
I tried, a little clumsy at first. My axe landed in the dirt. Aedryos chuckled low. “Again.” Syrene purred in my mind. "Gods, he makes this look hot. Focus, girl. You can’t let him show you up." On my third try, the axe sank deep into the bullseye. My grin stretched wide. Aedryos’s lips quirked faintly, his gaze heated. “Good. Dangerous suits you.”
By the time the sun sank, painting the sky orange and crimson, we’d worked every weapon, every muscle, every ounce of strength I had. Veyra trained alongside me, matching my pace, her hybrid speed and claws flashing, both of us pushing each other harder and harder until sweat dripped down our spines and our arms trembled.
We collapsed against the fence, panting, my leathers clinging slick, hair plastered to my forehead. Kaelan wiped his brow with a cocky grin. “Still standing, little wolf. Color me impressed.”
“Barely,” I muttered, my thighs shaking. Lucien’s shadows curled around my waist, steadying me. “Perfect even when wrecked.” Veyra flopped beside me, laughing breathlessly. “Hell of a queen you are. Thought I’d floor you by now.”
“Not today,” I said, nudging her shoulder. “But damn, you made me work.”
We staggered inside together, the bond humming with exhaustion, every step heavier than the last. The smell of dinner drifted through the halls, but none of us even slowed down. By the time we reached our suite, sweat streaked and aching, I could barely keep my eyes open. I yanked off my boots, collapsed onto the massive bed, and groaned.
“Food can wait,” I muttered. “Sleep first. Then we burn the world.” The guys all chuckled, dropping weapons and peeling off shirts before piling in around me. The star bond pulsed warm, steady and protective.
As I drifted into sleep, Syrene’s voice was soft in my head. "Good work, Queen. Tomorrow we train harder."