Storm and Fury by Jennifer L. Armentrout

5

“I can’t believe you didn’t get into trouble.” Misha handed the iron dagger to me.

I took it, wrapping my fingers around the leather-bound handle. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

His brows, more brown than red, lowered. “I hope he at least yelled at you.”

“No one asked to know what you hoped for, but yes, he did lecture me, thanks to you.”

He snorted. “Sucks for you.”

“It’s your fault.”

“How about I get you fries with extra cheese and bacon for your dinner to make up for it? The kind you like from that restaurant outside the walls?”

“Outback,” I whispered. My eyes widened like an entire chorus of angels had begun singing in front of me. “Outback cheese fries?”

“Oh, wait. I have plans later. Can’t do that for you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re such a jerk.”

He chuckled, but it was probably a good thing he wasn’t going to get me the cheese fries. Wardens had a crazy fast metabolism, and the human DNA in me had the kind of metabolism that constantly thought I needed to store fat as if I were a bear about to enter hibernation.

Luckily—or unluckily—it stored a lot of it in the chest area. And in the hips.

And the thighs.

Whatever.

I’d still happily destroy that plate of cheese fries all by myself if given the chance. My stomach grumbled. I would do some really bad things for those fries actually.

Sighing, I looked around the massive room. Not like the fries were going to magically appear in the sprawling training facility where Wardens were educated in all manner of combat. Hand to hand. Grappling. Defensive and offensive takedowns. Mixed martial arts. There were even rooms for target practice with guns. Not that guns were particularly useful when it came to dispatching demons, but a head shot could slow them down and even knock them out for a while.

Some of the rooms did double duty, though. The one Misha and I were in was full of thick, blue mats to soften the blow of being pile-driven into the floor when learning how to do a takedown or recover from one. It was also used for knife play, which meant throwing very sharp daggers at very lifelike dummies.

Feeling the weight of the blade in my hand, I opened my fingers and then closed them. Iron was deadly to demons. So were Warden claws and teeth, but if you wanted to take out a demon without getting too close, an iron blade blessed in holy water was the way to go.

I eyed the hairless, expressionless creation across the room. It was too far away to see the many nicks that covered nearly every square inch of its very real-looking flesh. From where I stood, it was just a blob of a shape.

“I was thinking, you know, about you laying low while they’re here.” Misha moved with me, so he didn’t stand too far in my peripheral. “Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but maybe just stay away from the Great Hall.”

“I doubt I’ll see them again,” I said, lifting the blade as I thought about what Thierry had said about Zayne, which was vastly different from Misha’s warning.

“You’re not going to the Accolade tonight? They’ll be there.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll see them. I doubt they’d notice me.”

“I think you underestimate how much you stick out.”

I looked over at him, frowning.

He lifted a brow. “It’s the human thing. We can easily sense that.”

“And honestly that’s not a big deal, right? I’m not stupid. It’s not like I’m going to walk up to one of them and be like, Hey, nice to meet you, I’m a walking, breathing myth. Want the 411?”

“The 411?”

I sighed. Peanut would be so disappointed. “Never mind.”

Crossing his arms, he tilted his head to the side. “Actually, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Shut up.”

He smirked.

I rolled my eyes.

“You going to get on with it?”

I refocused on the dummy. Taking one step forward, I angled my body slightly and then let the dagger fly.

It struck true, hitting the dummy in the center of the chest, sinking to the handle. Lowering my hand, I exhaled and glanced at Misha.

He was staring at the dummy. “I still don’t understand how you do that.”

I gave him my best cheeky grin. “I’m a special snowflake, unique and beautiful.”

He snorted. “You’re something.”

Truth was, I was this good only because I had to practice and train harder than anyone else. I had to focus harder to compensate. I was this good because I couldn’t let my failing eyes be a hindrance. At least not yet, not until they became too much to overcome, and even then, I would have to adapt.

And that meant training even harder.

Being able to use the daggers was important, just like knowing how to fight, and that wasn’t just so I knew how to defend myself.

It was so I could stop myself.

What I’d done to the Ravers was not even a glimpse of what I was capable of if I didn’t control myself.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that Thierry ordered the DC clan to stay for the Accolade?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Misha didn’t answer, but he frowned.

“I mean, since when did any of the clans come for it, even when they knew they were getting some of the new warriors?” I pointed out. “It’s never happened before.”

“What are you getting at?” he asked.

“I don’t know, really. It’s just weird. They don’t want to stay.” I shrugged. “And there’s really no reason for them to be here.”

He stared at me a long moment. “I think if you spend more than an hour in your bedroom a day, your brain starts to go to really weird places. Were you watching the ID channel again?”

“Whatever.” I grinned. “I was watching Fresh Prince.”

Misha crossed the room and gripped the handle of the dagger. It made this gross sucking noise as he pulled it out. “Again?”

I nodded, and he walked it back to me. Taking the dagger, I glanced over to where he stood. “You said you knew of Zayne and that he’s bad dude. What did you hear about him?”

His head cocked. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m nosy,” I replied, which was one hundred percent true.

Misha folded his arms over his chest. “His clan isn’t exactly a fan of his. They don’t trust him.”

That was weird, considering the fact that his clan leader had brought him here with them. “Where are you hearing this stuff? Some kind of Warden message board?”

He snickered. “Yeah, exactly that. I knew one of the Wardens who was sent to his clan to help last year. He told me some stuff about him.”

I stared down at the dagger, knowing that if I kept pestering him about Zayne, he would become suspicious. Misha knew me all too well. I trusted him with my life, but I had to wonder if his warning wasn’t based in fact but rather due to some kind of brotherly love? Like no guy was good enough sort of thing. But I had only spoken to Zayne once, and it hadn’t exactly been a love match. More like a hate match. I glanced at Misha again.

His gaze was swiveling to the door and back. I didn’t have to look or see to know who was watching us. As he grew closer, the centers of his cheeks began to turn a faint pink.

“You’re blushing.” I grinned.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, standing with his back to the door. Only a moment passed before he looked over his shoulder.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “I think Alina likes you,” I said, referencing the pretty dark-skinned female Warden who was definitely watching from the doorway.

Misha looked at me sharply.

“And I think you like Alina.”

“Trin...” he began.

I thought about what he’d said to me last night. His life was irrevocably tied to mine. He hadn’t said those words, but that was what they meant, and that wasn’t fair. He was only a few months older than me, and like me, he’d carried a responsibility that few adults had. “You should go talk to her.”

His eyes widened slightly at the prospect, as if it never occurred to him that he should speak to her. Then his expression locked down, devoid of any emotion. “I’m working.”

“No, you’re not.” I laughed. “We’re done training, for the most part, and I don’t need you here to work with the daggers. Not like you can teach me anything when it comes to them. I’m like a million times better than you are.”

“That’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t be—”

“I can be alone. I’m in no danger here.”

“Safety anywhere isn’t something we can be too sure of.”

I ignored the way my skin chilled. “I’m fine. I’m just going to work with the blades for a little bit longer and then I’m going to head back to the house, see what Jada is up to. I don’t need you acting as my Protector every waking second of the day—”

“That’s not only what I do.”

My gaze flew to his as the corners of my lips turned down as I lowered the blade. “Actually, isn’t that exactly what you do?”

A moment passed as he held my gaze. “I meant I’m also your friend and not just your Protector.”

“Okay.” I stared at him, thinking he was being weird. “You’re my friend, too, and I’m telling you, as your friend, that you should go talk to Alina.”

He looked over his shoulder again, and I saw it flicker across of his face. Yearning. It was brief, but there was no mistaking it. I knew what it looked like.

I knew what it felt like.

That was what had led me to Clay’s place. Too bad that had ended with him landing in a rosebush, but sometimes I was so bursting with yearning I couldn’t take it.

“Look, you following me around like a shadow with our visitors here looks way more suspicious than I think you or Thierry realize.” I shrugged. “Go talk to her. Take her to get a coffee or a smoothie or something. I’ll text you later.”

For a long moment I didn’t think Misha was going to do it, but then his chest rose with a deep breath and he faced me. “How long are you going to be here?”

“No more than half an hour. Then I’m going back to the house.”

“You’re really going back to the house?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

Misha seemed to have made up his mind. He nodded. “Okay. Text me later.”

“Will do.” I bit down on my lip and grinned. “Tell her she looks pretty today and actually listen to her when she talks.”

“Shut up.” He started to turn.

“And don’t stare at her—”

“I know how to act around a girl.”

“Do you?”

He looked like he was a second from throttling me, so I laughed. He shook his head as he turned around, and I watched him walk toward the doors, where Alina was standing. I waited until their shapes disappeared into the hall, then I walked to the small table against the wall. Lying on a leather satchel was the second iron dagger.

I picked it up, wondering just how long Misha would stay with Alina before he came running back to his duty.

I’m also your friend.

I didn’t think he was lying, and neither had I been when I told him he was my friend. He was my friend, one of my very best friends, as was Jada and even Ty. So was Peanut. He was a ghost, but he still counted. Other than them? I wasn’t close to anyone in the community.

I’d thought that Clay would be different. Not that he was madly in love or even in lust with me, but I’d thought he... He could’ve been something.

And that would be better than nothing.

I shoved away that thought, like I did whenever I thought too much about my future.

While the others accepted me, some were weary of a human in their midst. Some flat out ignored me. It was hard getting close to someone when they didn’t know the truth about me.

And there were others who looked at me like I didn’t deserve to be among them, to reap the fruit of their sacrifices. I knew enough about the world outside these walls to know that our communities were virtually utopias in comparison, completely self-sustaining with little of the issues faced by the world outside.

It was also hard to wonder whether Misha would be my friend if he hadn’t been bonded to me. And even harder to wonder if Jada would be if it weren’t for her uncle taking my mother and me in.

There were days and moments, like right now, when I felt utterly alone. But then I also felt silly feeling that way, because I did have friends—friends who were like family—better than most families. I loved Misha and Jada, but I missed my mom, and I...

I wanted more.

I wanted the yearning that had crossed over Misha’s face when he saw Alina waiting for him at the door. I wanted the passion Jada and Ty shared. I wanted the love I saw in the looks Thierry and Matthew shared, in the words they often whispered to each other in hushed voices.

I wanted it all.

And I would get none of it here.

Feeling heavy, I walked back to where I’d been standing before and faced the dummy. I stared down at the daggers for what felt like a short eternity, telling myself there was no point in dwelling over hypotheticals or ruminating over what couldn’t be changed.

I had a choice.

I could stay here. That would be the smart choice. I would be safe, and Thierry and my friends wouldn’t have to worry about me. Or I could leave, and I could... I could live life, even if living meant looking over my shoulder every hour. But Misha and I would still be bonded. He’d be able to find me wherever I went, sensing me if he got within a handful of miles. And if something happened to me, it would happen to him. It wasn’t fair to put him in danger by running off.

A tremor coursed down my arm. I knew what I needed to do. I knew what I wanted to do. And there was little room in this life for things that were wanted.

I drew in a breath, held it and then let the dagger fly. The satisfying thunk happened no more than a second later and pulled a faint grin from me. Switching the second blade to my right hand, I threw that blade and it sank deep, right below the other. Exhaling hard, I let my hand fall—

Several claps startled me, drawing my gaze to the doorway. It was empty. My gaze shifted to the right.

Oh crap.

It was him.

Zayne.