by Riley Storm
Holy shit, the girls had been right! What should she do?
Don’t panic. Keep calm, maybe it’s not what you think.
“Yes?” she asked nervously, immediately panicking. It wasn’t purposeful, but the idea they might share their first kiss there on the dance floor had her heart skipping a beat. It was extremely romantic. If that was what happened.
Klaue lifted her head, tilting it back so she looked up at him. Neither of them spoke, still swaying to the music as their eyes darted back and forth, looking into each other’s gazes. The cold arctic glare normally present in his eyes was gone. Instead, it had been replaced by a tropical blue. Hot. Like a sauna, twin circles of heat bore deep into her, stealing her breath and jumpstarting her heart.
She melted into him the second he bent down and covered her mouth with his own. Warm tingles raced along her fingertips as she dug them deep into the arms of his suit, gripping the fabric tight as they arched backward slightly. Klaue’s arm slipped around her waist and held her tight, lifting her slightly off the floor.
Weightless and soaring, she kissed him back with an eagerness that surprised them both. It was her tongue that playfully teased at his, deepening the moment between them as they carried on oblivious to anything going on around them. Jessica’s breath returned in a rush as they parted for a brief second to ease the lightheadedness before practically launching back at one another.
The hints of lust crept in around the edges. Her hands grabbed at his arms, feeling the huge biceps, and Klaue’s hand dipped a little lower on her dress, but neither of them gave in. Jessica because she wasn’t ready, and Klaue because…well, she figured it was because they were in public. Her brain wasn’t quite thinking straight just yet, so there could have been other reasons, but they didn’t matter.
“Klaue,” she said softly as they broke apart, resting one hand on his chest again, even as the other snaked up around his neck, holding him close. “I—”
The words she was going to say were cut off as the DJ chose that precise moment to spin the music through a transition into a louder, faster beat of a popular pop-country song she vaguely recognized. Girls all around her shouted and made a beeline for the center of the floor, many of them shouting about it being “their song!”.
Natalia swung by and grabbed her arm, the rest of the bridal party inserting themselves between the couple like a saw. “She’s ours now, Klaue, keep your hands off!”
Jessica was swept up in the tidal wave of dancing women, pausing just long enough to give Klaue a helpless look before giving in and throwing both hands in the air.
To his credit, the big shifter just tossed his head back and roared with laughter at her predicament, until a moment later, a horde of shifters descended upon him and began forcing him to sing along with the female artist.
Then it was her turn to laugh.
22
He was nervous.
The crowd today was much more evenly split between Klaue supporters and those cheering on his opponent, but he didn’t give a damn about that. His foe today, Kasperi, was a fierce fighter, but while Klaue gave him all the respect in the world, it wasn’t the challenge before him that made him nervous either.
It was what was behind him that had his heart racing, his palms slick and his throat dry. For the hundredth time, he resisted the urge to turn and look back at his corner. Not that they were in a boxing ring—the Throne Room was much too large for that—but a dedicated knot of his supporters grouped against the far wall. They were the staunchest, including several of the soldiers under his command, and one other notable figure.
Jessica.
This time, she wasn’t up in the crowds forced to watch the fight. She was down at ground level, with a front row view of what was going on. Klaue had thought he wanted her there, but now that the time had come, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have actually been better off with her up in the crowd, or simply not present at all.
The Queen finished her speech to the crowd and sat. It was too late now, however; she was here, and he would have to fight under her watchful eye. Klaue desperately wanted to make her proud, to show her that he was as good as many said. Winning was good, but only if he earned her approval on top of it. Otherwise, it would be a pointless fight, win or lose.
“Klaue, are you ready?”
He forced his attention away from the person he was rapidly coming to conclude was his mate, and back to the task at hand. Kasperi was no pushover, and he was one of the best weapons fighters in the House. Klaue would have an uphill battle against him today.
Weaponry was his worst discipline. It didn’t mean he was bad with the sword. Five years on the Queen’s Own meant he was no slouch with the weapon, but Kasperi was an undisputed fanatic with it.
“Yes,” he answered his Queen’s challenge, lifting his right arm in the air, holding the sword aloft over his head.
The crowd roared its approval.
“Kasperi, are you ready?”
There was no hesitation. A similar sword-raise ensued, followed by another bellow from the crowd. Klaue licked his lips. The roar had been a lot louder for Kasperi. Maybe he didn’t have as many supporters as he’d thought.
That doesn’t matter. All that matters is winning. Keep doing that, and they will come around.
Klaue nodded, to himself but also at Kasperi as the Queen waved at them to begin and sat back in her throne, glancing briefly at the empty seat next to her where the King would sit.
For a moment, he felt pity for the woman, who looked completely alone, but then he yanked his attention back to the fight as Kasperi came at him, his sword whipping around in a blur. Klaue recognized that the blow wouldn’t come anywhere near him even if he stood still, and wondered what Kasperi was trying to accomplish with it. He was still too far out to strike.
He’s looking to see how you react.
Klaue did the exact opposite then. He stood still, sword in a guard position to his right, and then waited.
Kasperi swept in, turning with his feint and swinging around to deliver a vicious swipe at Klaue’s midsection. Metal clanged loudly as his guard dropped easily into position, nearly numbing his hand with the vibration that ran up the crossguard.
The pair split apart, then came back in at each other, swords flashing as they danced. The distinct clang of metal on metal rang out again and again. Klaue knew he was outclassed. Klaue’s strokes might have looked smooth and controlled compared to most, but compared to Kasperi, he looked like a rank robot, jerky and unprepared.
If he was going to win this and not disappoint Jessica, he was going to have to pull something wild out of his ass. Something completely and totally unexpected that would catch Kasperi completely unawares. The question was, how the hell could he do that when facing a master swordsman?
Ducking low under a blow, he lunged forward, aiming a slash at the back of Kasperi’s legs. A dark silver blade swept down to interpose itself a hair’s breadth before he made contact, and—just like that—Klaue was on the defensive again, parrying for all he was worth as Kasperi drove him across the chamber to the audible gasps from the crowd.
One particularly violent blow swept aside his guard and Klaue only barely jumped back from a swipe that would have opened a huge cut across his chest. The crowd gasped, then cheered, as Klaue forced Kasperi onto his heels with a flurry of attacks designed to give him time to think.
Think. He’s not going to make a mistake on his own. He’s too good for that. Either you’re going to get lucky, which is not something you should rely upon, or you’re going to have to force him into making a mistake.
A trap, then. That’s what he was going to have to do. If he could lure Kasperi into a trap, trick him somehow, that was the only way he was going to win. The question was…how?
Klaue’s mind flicked back to the fight as his opponent went from being on the defensive to attacking once more. He was forced to throw his blade above his head in a wild parry, holding his left hand against the fla
t of the blade to stop the vicious overhand chop. His left arm went dead, and some of the crowd roared as he leapt backward, holding the numb limb to his side as best he could.
Risking a glance past Kasperi, he saw Jessica standing at the edge of the crowd, a hand over her mouth. She was scared for him. Not about whether he would win, but for his wellbeing. She cared for him. Nothing had materialized after their kiss the night before. The pair had been swept up in the spirit of the wedding and partied until it was late. He’d carried her back to his room, half-asleep and drunk in his arms.
Due to the fight, he’d stayed sober. After tucking her in, he’d promptly collapsed on the couch and passed out. Now he saw that what they’d experienced the night before hadn’t been purely because of the wedding. It was writ on her face, clear as day. She feared for his safety, for him, because she couldn’t stand to see him hurt.
Pain erupted across his back and left arm as Kasperi’s sword licked out, splitting the flesh open with its razor-sharp edge and drawing blood. The crowd roared as the swordsman held his blade aloft, crimson red liquid dripping from it onto the floor.
“Two strikes,” the Queen announced formally, her words drawing approval from the hundreds in attendance.
The Weapons Trial of the nomination was a fight until someone yielded, three blood-strikes, or death, though that was always to be avoided. With one lucky stroke, Kasperi had opened both Klaue’s arm and his back. Two strikes, like the Queen had said.
Blood flowed freely down the bare skin of his back, pooling against the band of his shorts. Klaue knew the wound was deep. The adrenaline of the fight was helping him ignore it, but he was going to be stiff and healing from that for some time if he didn’t want to risk it opening up on him again.
There was no use worrying about that now, though. If he didn’t win this fight, there wouldn’t be another one. Somehow, Klaue had to dig himself out of the hole he’d made.
First step is to acknowledge that Kasperi didn’t get lucky. You got distracted, and he made you pay for it. This is your fault. Put Jessica from your mind. She will be there once this is over, you know that. Just win the fight. Do that, and you’re one win and a formal mating away from being named as Champion of High House Ursa. Nobody will question your decision to defend your mate then!
Anyone could enter the Trial of Champions, if they had enough supporters to secure the nomination for a particular fight, or the support of the Queen, as did Klaue. However, as with all Title Holder positions within House Ursa, one must be mated to assume it.
Klaue had initially been worried about the fact he’d not had a mate when the Queen had used her nomination on him. Now he was worried he wouldn’t succeed in the fights, which were supposed to be his specialty.
Of course, you might lose both if you aren’t careful. You don’t have either yet, so don’t get cocky.
The battle resumed, and Klaue took the words to heart. He’d screwed up, and let his mate distract him. No more. He swept in with a vicious series, then turned aside all of Kasperi’s attacks in return. They went back and forth. Both combatants wore nothing but shorts and soft-soled shoes. With the press of bodies in the room and the exertion of their duel, both of them were quickly soaked in sweat.
The salty liquid stung his wounds, but Klaue shoved such temporary irritations to the side, focusing on nothing more than winning. He knew what he needed to do now, and he let it go into full effect bit by bit. His left arm moved slower, just a hair, every time he needed to grip the sword to handle a strike. Always there in time, but only just.
He also started turning slower to his left, and trying to keep the fight to his right. Nothing overt, but enough that he was confident Kasperi would think his wound was slowing him down. For over ten minutes they battled, with Klaue doing nothing but setting himself up for what he hoped would be the moment that he would even, if not win, the battle.
Kasperi began to take advantage of the weakness, turning to his left more often, and driving at him with continual two-handed strikes that forced Klaue to keep moving his arm to grip the handle tightly to defend.
Retreating constantly in a circle around the massive Throne Room, Klaue kept up the illusion as best he could. The blood had run down his pant leg and into his shoe by now, and the thick bloody footprints and scattered pools of blood marked his path as they fought, the battle going on near twenty-five minutes now.
Both shifters were covered in sweat, and in Klaue’s case, blood, and beginning to tire. The crowd was in a frenzy, sensing the end was near as Klaue came closer and closer to letting a strike land every time.
Then it happened. Kasperi came at him with a slash, the tip of his sword way out to Klaue’s right. He would be forced to parry, and Kasperi would step to Klaue’s left and push in, relying on Klaue’s inability to go to his left to end the fight with a gash to his stomach.
Except, Klaue was ready. He went out wide to his left faster than he had since he’d taken the wound, avoiding the strike and nicking his sword along the back of Kasperi’s hand, across his ribs and—with a pullback—across the outside of his right leg. Three strikes to end the fight.
Except somehow, Kasperi had anticipated it.
Klaue watched in horror as the other swordsman stepped back, pulling his right side out of harm’s way and flicking out the tip of his own blade at Klaue’s completely unprotected body.
It was over. He’d lost.
The blow never landed. Kasperi’s eyes went wide and he started to flail. Klaue managed to parry the suddenly weak strike as his foe lost his balance, slipping in a pool of blood.
Striking quickly, he opened lines on both Kasperi’s legs, batted aside a feeble defense and made his final strike from chest to stomach. One. Two. Three. Just like that, it was over. Klaue stepped back, and a single droplet of blood ran down his blade, falling from the tip to the floor as he held the sword out wide.
Silence ran through the Throne Room. Everything had happened almost too fast for the crowd to process. It had gone from Kasperi winning, to Klaue revealing his deception, to Kasperi showing he’d been setting a trap of his own, to a freak stroke of luck finally ending the fight.
It all resulted in the audience losing their minds. Bear shifters shouted and hollered their approval or denial, some ecstatic, others in complete disbelief. It didn’t matter to Klaue. He’d won.
Looking over at Jessica, he smiled and winked. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but he could see the relief in her eyes. Relief that he was okay. Mostly. There was a lot of blood spattered about the Throne Room, almost all of it his.
Setting his sword aside, he reached down and hauled Kasperi to his feet before holding the other man’s hand high. Everyone knew Klaue should have lost that fight, and he wanted them to be aware he wasn’t an idiot. Kasperi was the best swordsman he’d ever come across.
The Queen came down from her seat, formally proclaiming Klaue the winner. Though he had emerged victorious, it left a sour taste in his mouth. Plenty of his detractors would be whispering about the way it had played out, saying he only won because of luck. This wouldn’t leave them satisfied.
Klaue knew he would have to win the next fight in convincing fashion, or else risk calls for a re-trial. His path to becoming Champion had grown shorter, but far more difficult, all in the space of about three seconds at the end of this fight.
But he had Jessica, and that made it all worthwhile. He would endure just about anything if it meant she looked at him like she was doing right now.
23
“Stop it.”
He kept trying to get up until Jessica forcefully put her hand on his chest and pushed him back into the bed. Both of them knew that he only caved because he chose to, not because she was stronger, despite the extra leverage that came from her standing over him. But she won in the end, or he gave in, it didn’t matter, because she watched with satisfaction as he sank back down.
“Much better,” she clucked. “Now, what did you want?”
&
nbsp; “To sit up. I’m tired of counting the ceiling tiles.”
She ignored his pouting. “Maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself get hurt then.”
Klaue worked his mouth but no sounds came out right away. “I did not let myself get hurt,” he protested.
“Uh huh.” Jessica wasn’t buying it. “I saw what happened. You insisted I watch you, and so I did. And do you know what I saw? You were looking at me instead of the guy you were fighting. The same guy, I might add, that had three feet of steel in his hands that he was trying to eviscerate you with.”
Jessica hadn’t been aware that the fight was with swords when she’d agreed to go and witness it. Fighting with fists was one thing, but to watch him nearly be sliced open in front of her was far more nerve-wracking, and she was letting him know she didn’t like it, full stop.
“Kasperi wasn’t trying to eviscerate me,” Klaue countered, looking up at her from where he lay on his back. “You’re being overdramatic.”
“I’ve seen the slash on your back. That is no papercut! Much deeper and he could have hit your spine. You could have been paralyzed.”
Klaue started to tell her that shifters healed from wounds that would leave humans paralyzed all the time, but she held up a hand to stop him. They’d been over this ground before, and whether he was telling the truth or not, she hated seeing it.
“Besides,” he said, switching to another argument. “I’m already mostly healed. I just need to keep the movements down. No sudden twisting or stuff like that, until a few more hours have passed and it’s healed up enough.”
She glared at him. “You also have another fight in two days or whatever it is, and if you don’t watch it, you’re still going to be stiff and tight from this, and you’ll end up at a disadvantage to start.”
Klaue shook his head. “I’m not going to win this fight, am I?”
“Nope.”
“I promise, I’m healed up enough now.”
Jessica frowned, sensing a trap, but not sure of any other way out of it. “Healed up enough for what?”
