Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(41)

His gaze met my eyes again, and I was advancing, lunging across the snowy earth.

As our blades clashed, he kept his gaze locked on me, his eyes shining with something like excitement. I was starting to get the sense that he enjoyed this, that it made him feel alive.

Even more strangely, I was starting to feel the same way…

Andrew had made me feel safe. But Torin? He made me feel like I was standing on a precipice, about to fall off. Heart racing and blood pumping, I’d never felt more exhilarated. The problem? It was just a quick thrill, a blazing candle that would burn out quickly. It wouldn’t do to dwell on these thoughts, even for a moment. Clearly, the man wasn’t relationship material.

No way in hell I’d set myself up for more disappointment. I’d hardly recovered from the last heartbreak.

Torin’s breath clouded around his head as he thrust his rapier closer, nearly nicking my waist. His expression was fierce, eyes glinting.

I leapt back and was nearly taken out by a snowy branch.

Damn.

My mind had wandered, and Torin had backed me up against a tree trunk.

I blocked his attack, and his sword pressed against mine, pinning me against the tree.

The corner of his lip curled. “It seems I have you exactly where I want you, my favorite changeling.”

“Favorite?” I returned his smile. “Have you forgotten we hate each other? Because I haven’t.”

“But Ava.” His face was close to mine now, the moonlight and shadows sculpting his cheekbones.

“Your utter contempt for me is what makes it all the more exciting when I have you under my control.”

His knee slid between my thighs, his face close to mine now. The edges of our blades pressed closer to me.

“It makes it more exciting,” he whispered. “Thinking of your complete disdain for me.”

A fierce, competitive flame lit inside me. Marshaling all the strength I could muster, I shoved him away from me. But I was already growing tired, and I stumbled a little.

Torin slashed, and I parried, but the force of his strike snapped my blade. I stared at the broken sword for only a fraction of a second before dodging out of his way.

By now, I knew him well enough to understand he had complete control of his sword, and that he’d never attack if he thought he’d actually hurt me. But the thing was, I didn’t want to lose.

I shifted to the right and gripped him hard by the wrist. A sharp kick to his inner thigh had him doubling over, and I twisted his arm back until he dropped the rapier in the snow. He quickly ripped himself out of my grip and spun, raising his fists like we were about to start boxing.

I arched an eyebrow. “Are we about to fist fight?”

“Why not? There are no rules here.”

“So, in Faerie, it’s okay to punch a king?”

“No, that’s a death penalty offense. But I won’t tell if you won’t. Here, in this clearing, there are no rules.” A sardonic smile. “And as your king, I am commanding you to play the way I want you to.”

“Not my king, but okay.” I lifted my fists, not entirely sure what I was doing. Truth be told, I was strangely enticed by the idea of hand-to-hand combat with a high king of the Seelie.

Just the thing to help a person forget a bad breakup.

And perhaps I had a tad bit of aggression to work out.

I darted forward, striking first. He blocked, again and again, and my knuckles felt like they were breaking against his forearm.

With a devilish smile, the king swung at me, but I lifted my arm, and the blow landed hard near my elbow. I winced as pain danced up to my shoulder.

He heard my catch of breath and went still. His smile faded, hands lowering slightly. “Are you all right?”

I slammed my fist into his cheek, knocking him back. But when his face snapped up to mine, it was with that exhilarated look once more. “Gloves are truly off, then.”

“Oh, yes. As a changeling, I’m too wild for this kingdom, of course. No sense of propriety whatsoever.”

The wind toyed with his cloak, and his eyes blazed with icy light in the darkness. A smile ghosted over his lips.

I moved forward once more to hit him, but he caught my wrist in an iron grip and contorted my arm. Now it was his turn to twist my arm behind my back. The position and sharp movement hurt like a bitch.

“You’re surprisingly skilled,” he murmured next to my ear. “For a changeling.”

I gritted my teeth. “Turns out I’ve had some anger issues since the night I met you.” I slammed the back of my head into his face, and he released me. “And pretty men are my target.”

Exhausted and bruised, I whirled to face him.

“There you go again.” He arched an eyebrow. “Calling me pretty.”

At that, the air went even colder, the ice cutting down to my bones. And from the way the air shimmered, I had no doubt it was the king’s doing. But how could I complain about magic when I’d declared the gloves were off?

I forced myself to move, trying to heat up again, but an all-consuming darkness slammed around me.

Stunned and disoriented, I stumbled back, my heart beating against my ribs as panic slid through my chest. Fuck. This was a vulnerability I’d never felt before.

But in a moment, my senses returned. As a fae, I could always smell much better than humans— but this. I detected every scent for a mile around me: the bark of the oaks, the pine needles and owl nests, the frozen moss, even the scent of the snow. And the sounds: my chattering teeth, the wind rustling through the trees and sweeping across the gravestones—and the sound of Torin’s pounding heart beating almost in time to mine.