Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

He dodged away at the last moment, so much lither and more graceful in his wolf form. So much faster.

He snapped at her ankle, making her dance away, before surging up and slamming into her body. How a man could weigh more in another form than his human form, she didn’t know, but the force of the tackle shoved her back.

She cut her sword through the air while she fell, not wanting to waste an opportunity. Her back hit the ground as her sword banged into his front leg. That strike would’ve lopped off his limb.

He rolled off her, and when he stood, he kept that leg held tightly to his body, honoring the strike. She shot him with another blast of magic, the spark alighting on his right side. Before it concussed the air, though, he spun and bit. The magic…unraveled, somehow. It died.

“What the…” She tried again, sending a spark toward his other side.

He turned and bit, chomping on the electrical ball of light. It zinged through his teeth before unraveling out around his body.

He’d figured out how to circumvent her magic. Was that a bonus of their connection?

Magic now boiled and built, bleeding acid into her body and leaking from her in waves. Bright white light buzzed through the sky, covering the whole field. Lightning rained down, narrowly missing a thick gray wolf—Rod—as he loped toward them through the grasses.

“Need a little help here,” she yelled to the onlookers, all in rapt attention. None of them had stepped forward to help her, or offered to guide her in the use of her magic. They were transfixed on the fight.

Devon surged toward her.

Not stopping, she slashed at him, forcing him to change his attack path. A bolt of lightning zipped down next to him, singing his ear. He dodged in the other direction, his keen eyes tracking her as only a predator could.

Rod ran to join the fight, but Steve pushed forward, blocking the way. A yeti’s roar made someone screech. Cole lumbered out into the field.

Charity struck forward with her sword, the feeling natural, the choice terrible. Devon dodged and lunged, his teeth clamping down on her sword arm, although not hard enough to break skin. She cursed and dropped the sword, blasting him with barely controlled magic. Only then did those around her come to her aid, swirling their magic around hers. Calming it. But not quelling it. Keeping it vibrant for battle.

Someone out here still knew what warrior blood ran through their veins.

Devon flew through the air, not having moved fast enough to extinguish the spark she’d sent at him. She picked up the sword with her left hand. It felt just as comfortable in her non-dominant hand. Just as dangerous.

With a manic grin, she charged, seeing the shifters spread out behind Devon, stopped in their advance by Steve. The fae, as well—a huge crowd now but kept to the sidelines so Devon and she could battle.

She slashed at Devon, a dummy attack, and sent a spark at his other side. He bit into it, and she lunged. Her blunt sword tip grazed his side.

He took the hit, that wound in real life hurting, but the pain didn’t stop him. He’d fought through much worse. He kept on coming.

She pulled her sword back, getting into position for a strike, but he was already on her. He slammed into her chest, taking her down a second time. This time, though, his weight was centered. His teeth closed around her throat.

He was badly wounded and missing a hand, but he’d claimed the fight.

A proud smile lit her face. Heat licked her core. It had been a good fight. Next time, she’d take him, she’d make sure of it.

But now…she wanted him to take her.

“Take me to bed,” she said in a husky voice.Chapter Twenty-NineDevon wasted no time. He rose and picked her up, hugging her tightly to his chest. They’d fought for dominance what seemed like a million times, sometimes with words, sometimes with fists, but it had always been about finding balance with each other, establishing their places in each other’s lives.

It had never felt like that.

That had been…

Words couldn’t express it. Saying he felt like an alpha didn’t do this sensation justice. He felt like a god. And he knew that, without her, he never would’ve risen to this level. He’d bested power even Vlad couldn’t touch. Power that had the entire field of warrior fae gawking.

And now, as he looked into her eyes, and saw her pride in him…

He felt like a man.

Halvor and the Second stood slightly removed from everyone else in the field. Devon didn’t know how much of the sparring they’d seen, but judging by their postures and the smug delight in the Second’s eyes, they’d seen enough to know Charity had something special. Something even a full-blooded fae didn’t have. Moreover, she knew how to use it in battle. Not just on this field with their fake swords and useless competitions—she could rise from near death, in a haze, and still fight demons to save her pack. She was magnificent, and now they knew.