The Hidden Mark

The Gauntlet

He blocks the strike with his forearm, then grips her wrist with his opposite hand and plucks the knife out of her hand, leaning down so his face is only inches from hers. "Going for blood today, are we, Violence?" he whispers. Metal hits the mat again and he kicks it past Violet's head and into my reach.

The jealousy at the nickname he gave Vi is starting to get to me as I continue to watch the match, now that I can see he isn't taking her daggers to use against her; he's disarming her just to prove he can.

"My name is Violet," I watch Violet seethes.

"I think my version fits you better." He releases her wrist and stands, offering her a hand. "We're not done yet."

Vi's chest heaves, still recovering from the way he knocked the wind out of her, and she takes the offering. He tugs her to her feet, then twists her arm behind her back and yanks her against his hard chest, pinning their joined hands before she had a chance to get her balance.

"Damn it!" She snaps.

Liam and I exchange a mutual look of forced non-jealousy as we watch Xaden tug another of Violet's daggers off her thigh, before pressing it to her throat as his chest rests against the back of her head. His forearm is locked across her ribs, and he might as well be a statue for all the give there is in his frame. There's no use for Violet to slam her head back—he's so tall that it would only annoy him.

I am forced to watch Xaden whisper against the shell of her ear, and even though they are surrounded by people, I realize he's quiet for a reason. This lesson is just for Violet.

He drops the third dagger he's taken from her and kicks it forward—to where Dain stands, the other two already in mine hands. There's murder in his eyes as he glares at Xaden.

"I'm the one who decides when to grant that favor. Not you." Xaden releases her hand and steps back.

Vi whirls, punching for his throat, and he knocks her hand aside.

"Good," he says with a smile, deflecting her next blow without so much as a hitch to his breath. "Going for the throat is your best option, as long as it's exposed."

Fury makes her kick out again in the same pattern, muscle memory taking over, and he captures that leg again, this time snatching the dagger sheathed there and dropping it to the mat before he lets her go, cocking a disappointed eyebrow at her. "I expect you to learn from your mistakes." He kicks it away.

She only have five left, all sheathed at her ribs.

Gripping one and putting her hands up defensively, she begins to circle him, and to my absolute annoyance, he doesn't even bother facing her. He just stands there in the center of the mat, his boots planted and his arms loose as she moves around him.

"You going to prance or are you going to strike?"

Fuck him.

Violet punches forward, but he dips and her knife sails over his shoulder, missing him by six inches. My stomach drops as he grips her arm, yanking her forward and flipping her around the side of his body. She is airborne for a heartbeat before she smacks into the mat, her ribs taking the impact.

He cranks her arm into a submission hold and white-hot pain shoots down the limb as I watch her cry out, dropping the dagger, but he's not done. No, his knee is in her ribs and, though he holds her arm captive with one hand, the other plucks a dagger from its sheath and flings it toward Dain's feet before taking another and holding it to the tender area where her jaw meets her neck.

Then he leans closer. "Taking out your enemy before the battle is really smart; I'll give that to you," he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.