Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"
Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky
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5
Food churned in my stomach as I scraped my plate clean and placed it among the pile of dirty dishes for washing. At least Assyria hadn’t struggled to eat. Her excitement over helping the army was no match for my fear of losing her again to the Angels, though. Dusk fell, bringing with it a much-needed cool breeze, as we returned to the command center for the nightly officers’ meeting.
Assyria stuck close to my side, and I wrapped an arm possessively over her shoulder. I needed to touch her, to feel her, to remind myself she was still here. That nothing bad would happen to her so long as she was in my orbit.
“You can go back to our tent now with the dogs,” I told her as we approached the tied-back flap.
She halted immediately, my arm dropping into thin air. “You said I was part of this.”
Rapp wisely ducked inside and yanked the ties to give us some privacy.
“You are, little imposter. But–”
She sliced through my words before they could emerge. “But nothing! Either I am in, or I am out.” She crossed her arms and popped out a hip, her glare scorching my skin.
My teeth ached from the force of my clenching. “It’s better if Rapp and I speak to the Parancsok about the mission on our own.”
Assyria jabbed a finger in the middle of my chest. “Is it? Because they have no idea what I am capable of. Or is this a ploy to keep me from going at all?”
“Assyria,” I growled, her name loaded with threat.
My mate did not heed my warning. “No, Rokath.” There was my real name, hissed from between her furious lips. “I’m risking my life for this. I get to be there.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” I snarled, grabbing her wrists and yanking her against my chest. My heart pounded a staccato rhythm against my ribs at the reminder of the risks. “I can’t think logically about what has to be done while you’re standing there. The thought of you entering their camp makes it impossible to fucking breathe.”
The firm set of her brows softened. The tension that had held her frame aloft bled away. “I know.” Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “I’m scared too. But I want this.”
She swallowed hard, throat bobbing. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hand around it and squeeze. This female was so fucking infuriating, and yet I couldn’t stand in her way. These opposing forces she brought out in me were wearing on my nerves.
I let my focus drift back to those devious burgundy eyes. Witnessed the silent plea in them. And still, my jaw locked.
“I want to choose my life, for once.” Those words were like a punch to the gut. A whisper of the beginning, when our bond was a curse. A reminder of how the Fates had woven this path for us against both our wishes.
But now?
I needed her.
Air stuttered out of me as terror wrapped a vise around my lungs. A violent, thrashing battle waged within me as I struggled to say the words. To welcome her into this part of my world, the part that edged her closer to death.
“Come on then.”
I didn’t release her as we entered the command center, where Rapp, Trol, and the Parancsok were deep in conversation. They ceased when I approached the table, Assyria at my side.
She was right. With how central she was to our plan, it was time the Parancsok learned of her power. And learned to respect her place at my side.
As much as I hated the idea of putting Assyria in harm’s way, her Imposter gift was one we could leverage to free Banand and Zurronar. As the thought flitted through my mind, my chest clenched. Violently. I flattened my palm across the middle of my ribs, right where the shadows of my magic swirled around our bond, and pressed, trying to ease the pain.
There was no way in all the worlds I’d let her go alone or even without me.
But what kind of male wields his own mate to win a war? I loathed myself for considering it. Fuck, allowing her to join us. But I’d hate myself more for silencing her, keeping her hidden away, just like her fucking husband had done.
My nails raked over my tunic as my hand curled into a fist. Never had I been so conflicted in my entire life.
At least the power the Giver blessed me with was enough to render me invisible under the cover of darkness, and others in the camp possessed similar skills that would aid us in our surreptitious entry.
Which left only one problem to be solved for this rescue mission.
Assyria squared her shoulders as she stood beside me, staring the officers down. Compared to those of us surrounding the table, she was tiny. Yet her confidence made her appear statuesque.
If the Angels captured or harmed her again, I wouldn’t stop until their whole camp—their whole realm—was in ashes. I’d hunt down every last one of them. No mercy. No second thought. Should they seize me too, I’d give them anything they wanted so long as she was safe and air continued to flow through her lungs.
And that was a very dangerous fact.
Once everyone had arrived and settled into their respective places, I turned my attention to the Parancsok. “I need three female Angels captured and brought to me.”
One sucked in a sharp breath. “Why would we waste our precious resources on them?”
I’d already used my daily allotment of ‘because I said so’ and unfortunately, I couldn’t solely rely on my authoritarian rule, not when I wanted cooperation and enthusiasm for the changes to come. While fear was a fantastic tool for control, so was belief. My cousins and I had wielded the two together to ascend to our roles, after all.
“Because the Giver blessed Assyria with the magic to take on the form of another, but only if she has time to study them. I want to use her power to rescue the Demons being held prisoner by the Angels.”
Eyes widened and lips parted. Rapp was right—Assyria’s power was ‘cool’ as he had termed it. It was also extremely useful for a scout. All seven’s attention landed on my mate. To her credit, she didn’t flinch.
“You’d risk your mate for this mission?” one asked, tearing his gaze from Assyria and letting his garnet eyes collide with mine.
I bristled at his question. A low growl rumbled in my chest as I planted my fists on the table and leaned in. “Do you doubt my devotion to our cause?” Obsidian leaked from between my fingers and drifted in his direction, out of my control.
How dare he voice the very question eating me alive.
The male shifted his weight from foot to foot. “No, Halálhívó. I simply thought you wouldn’t want to place her on a path that could lead to her death. Or yours.”
His insinuation had my lips curling back from my teeth. I knew when it came to Assyria, I was totally fucked. I didn’t need the same thought curling in my subordinates’ minds.
“When the time comes to carry out this mission, I won’t be weak,” my mate snapped, mirroring my posture and glaring at the offending Parancsok. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have burgundy eyes too. Just because I don’t have a dick doesn’t mean I’m incapable of taking on such a challenge. Especially when I am bonded to the Halálhívó and have him to train me.”
Rapp’s brows shot up his forehead, and he covered his mouth to hide his amusement. Assyria was a fighter—I’d learned that firsthand every fucking day as she refused to bow to my command. And these males, in her eyes, were no different.
For her own protection, I wanted her to be stronger, both with her power and her body. Future separation during a skirmish was inevitable, and while she’d never be completely on her own, I never wanted her to feel helpless against an opponent either.
The Parancsok dipped his chin. “Apologies, mate of the Halálhívó, I meant no offense.”
“This is the type of attitude that must change,” she stated, her tone blistering with fire. “For too long, you males have assumed us the weaker sex because we have not fought back. Just because our strength does not match yours does not mean we are helpless. My abilities will aid us in winning this war. I merely have to use them to the extent the Giver intended.”
Pride bloomed in my chest as she claimed her place by my side.
“Aye,” Rapp agreed, the corner of his mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Females have strengths of their own we do not possess. We’ll all do well to remember that.”
“Of course,” the Parancsok replied, and a few others murmured their assent.
“Now, if we can return to the matter at hand,” I said, smoothing out the transition. “Once we have the Angel captives and reports on potential locations of the Demon prisoners, we can hold the Angels here for a few weeks while I train my mate.” The beginnings of a plan were forming in my mind, but I’d need time to mull over all the possibilities and probabilities before we struck. The scouts who’d creep into the night to survey the Angel camp would assist in that as well. Their reports were essential to any decisions we’d make.
“I will lead the next charge, Halálhívó,” one of Trol’s Parancsok volunteered, rapping his maroon-gauntleted knuckles on the table. “We will capture Angels for your mate, and we will join you in rescuing our fellow soldiers.”
That was the attitude I’d been searching for. “Your sacrifice is appreciated, Parancsok.” Though I hoped the losses stemmed from the attack wouldn’t be too severe.
“The success of this mission hinges on cooperation and sacrifice for the greater good. The Angels cannot realize we’re intentionally seeking out prisoners, or they’ll start wondering why, after all this time, it has become part of our strategy. It must look like an action of opportunity.”
The Angels had never been keen on being captured—which was why I’d abandoned the idea of using them as leverage long ago—and would fight tooth and nail to avoid it. Dozens of memories of daggers crossing their own throats, plunging into sides of necks, or even throwing themselves off cliffs arose in my mind. They’d rather die than surrender to the control of a Demon.
Their suicides made it difficult to gather additional intelligence about their plans, beliefs, and next moves. I suspected that was intentional on Zahal Ishim’s part. Most of the information we worked off of in the Demon Realm was what was available to the public in the Angel Realm. And much had changed in the last few centuries since Koron Stadiel took the throne.
“You’ve gathered the scouts?” I asked, tearing my thoughts back to the present.
The Parancsok provided their chosen names along with proposed routes based on quick surveys taken during the day. Assyria listened intently as we rolled over plans, modifying them as more information was revealed. Finally satisfied with our path forward, I peered further into the future.
“We hold the Angels here for as long as we can. We know how to survive these harsh environments. They do not. After this attack, do not move again unless provoked. Waiting them out might be the key.”
“Aye, Halálhívó,” they said.
“You are dismissed. Send out your scouts and remind them why we fight this war,” I commanded. They offered me closed-fisted salutes, then departed. The Parancsok who had volunteered his unit peeled off to prepare them for the skirmish they were to initiate in the early hours of morning.
Let the Angels come searching for their stolen soldiers afterward. Let them walk into the sharp teeth of the Demon camp. I’d savor the moment I got to remind the Zahal of who the fuck I was and why he should fear me.
Assyria slipped her hand into mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Do you really think this will work?” Yet despite the conviction in her tone, her palm held the barest shake.
“Yes,” I told her, but then I slid into her mind, to make a promise I wanted no one else to hear. “If this is what choosing your life looks like…then I’ll shape the fucking world to keep that choice intact. I’d do anything for you, little imposter.”
“Keep proving that, then,” she shot back, but the usual snark was tempered.
I glanced at Trol and Rapp for subtle confirmation of their belief. Both were steadfast. I certainly believed in her—she’d proven her strength time and time again. But belief didn’t win wars; if it did, the Angels would have slaughtered us from their fervency alone.
Power was what decided the victor. Magic, strength, leverage…it mattered not, so long as one possessed it.
And as Assyria looked up at me like I was everything she needed in this life, I planned on gathering it in spades to keep my mate safe.
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6
Three white-haired and wild-eyed females stared up at us from their position on the ground. Two Vezető worked to hold each of the Angels in place, shoving them to their knees and preventing them from rising. Bronze cuffs flashed in the midday light. Even with the futility of their situation, they writhed like vipers, kicking up a storm of dust.
I adjusted the scarf around my head to cover my nose and mouth so I wouldn’t breathe in any more than necessary. While I hadn’t worn a veil since the fateful day we left Gyor Palace, this lightweight fabric was an absolute necessity in the hot, dry land. Even with the light bronze shade of my skin, the altitude of the Paks Desert made it burn. At least in Lutsk, we were on the fringes of it—not like we had been as we’d wandered through the endless expanse and nearly died.
Blood slicked the Vezetős’ arms from dozens of tiny cuts, while others who had assisted in the skirmish limped by us on their way to the healers’ tents. None minded as ruby dripped to the earth, feeding the Fates for bringing us a much-needed victory.
A female with ocean blue eyes spit at my feet. “Whore,” she cursed in the common tongue. The other two followed suit.
A growl ripped from Rokath’s throat, and he took a menacing step toward the instigator. A Vezető fisted her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look into the eyes of the Halálhívó. For that was exactly who Rokath was at that moment. My mate wore many masks—I was finding that this one was one I especially loved to see. Something about the way he elicited a flash of fear in her eyes as he towered over her made my low belly heat.
“What is your name?” he demanded in the common tongue. If I were to impersonate them, I needed to know as much as possible. Their identities were essential to that.
Her lips curled away from her teeth, but she said nothing. Rokath waited a moment before questioning her again. “What is your name?” He switched to Angelic, but the command in his tone was undeniable.
Her expression faltered for a moment before she recovered her hateful one. Rokath snapped his head toward one of the Vezető holding her. “Nightmare, now,” he ordered in Demonic, then stepped back.
The Vezető’s chest expanded, and the air in front of the Angel shimmered. A memory of the day we’d tested everyone’s magic with the Lovak Squad flitted through my mind. The way Dromak had screamed at whatever the male had shown him. It didn’t take long for the female’s shrieks to pierce the air, replacing the echoes of my former friend.
The other two shouted at her in Angelic, the melody of their words lost among the frantic bursts. Yet their comrade couldn’t hear them, so utterly consumed in the dreamscape. Desperate hands attempted to claw at her head, but the other Vezető caught them and forced them to hover in front of her. She jerked against the hold, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Stop!” she cried in the common tongue.
The Vezető looked at Rokath for confirmation. He nodded.
The air returned to normal, and the Angel’s breasts heaved against her leather armor. “My name is Esha.”
Rokath didn’t bother acknowledging her before he moved to the cerulean-eyed one. “And you?” he demanded in the common tongue.
“Faeya,” she replied, a slight tremble in her voice.
“I am Araquiel,” the third offered without Rokath having to question her. Her turquoise eyes bounced between my mate and me. From the previous day’s lessons with Rokath, I knew the color of her eyes made her the most powerful out of the three. It was the third most powerful in all of the Angel realm, in fact. Whoever managed to capture her needed a promotion to Százados.
“I agree with you on that,” Rokath spoke into my mind.
Her hair was the color of the fog that rolled over the plains of Stryi in the early autumn mornings. Cut short, it brushed the tops of her shoulders. Most of it had spilled out of a strip of leather atop her head. Dirt and blood caked her face, but beneath it, she had delicate features, thin eyebrows, and full lips.
“Why do you keep us alive?” she asked, each word rolling off her tongue with a thick accent.
Rokath snorted and continued his interrogation instead. “What are your powers?”
“I conjure light,” Esha offered immediately. I pressed my lips together to smother a laugh. One nightmare and she was ready to confess everything.
“I am an Amplifier,” Faeya revealed with a sigh.
Rokath returned his attention to Araquiel. She held her chin high, refusing to cower beneath the Halálhívó. A long moment passed before she spoke. “I am a Sensor.”
“Suppression or amplification?” Rokath clarified.
“Both,” she said simply, her expression placid. Yet her eyes held the barest hint of judgment, like she was guarding herself and gauging us simultaneously. Something twisted in my gut, like a warning bell that something rang false. Angel power was Goddess-blessed, hence their worship of Her, and many possessed powerful mind magics.
Had she spoken true about her power?
“See that they are fed and bathed. Do not take the cuffs off them for any reason,” Rokath told the supervising Parancsok while I continued to study the three. Araquiel, based on her strength alone, would be the one I’d need to focus on the most. With the insignia in her armor, I suspected she held status among the Angel army too.
“What would you like us to do with them after?” the male replied.
Rokath flicked his attention to the currently empty cage off to one side in the square. “Have that brought into the command center,” he dipped his head to indicate the object, “and lock them in there.”
“Aye, Halálhívó,” the Parancsok said, offering him a close-fisted salute. To me, he dipped his chin. “My lady.” Then, he directed his group away.
At least someone is coming around to me.
Though I’d technically been part of the nobility while married to Vagach, hearing him refer to me as such in relation to Rokath didn’t feel…right. Like I was some attachment to him rather than an extension of him. Nor did I think of Rokath as royalty, despite him belonging to the most prominent house in the Demon Realm.
To me, he was my mate. My protector. My villain. Nothing else mattered, not anymore.
Rokath’s revelation of my Giver-blessed powers had helped paint me in a new light. To the Parancsok, at least, I now had some use other than wetting Rokath’s cock. Outside of the highest circles, keeping my magic secret was paramount. If the Angels knew of my ability in addition to being Rokath’s mate, we’d have to adjust our plans yet again.
Fates, I was really starting to sound like him. His constant stream of consciousness into my mind had changed the way I thought about a lot of things. It didn’t help that his mind was always working. Those moments of quiet were rarer than his genuine smiles.
“Come,” he told me. I rolled my eyes but obeyed anyway.
“I am not a dog,” I reminded him as I lengthened my stride to keep up. We entered the command center, finding reprieve from the sweltering heat. There, Rapp and Trol were debriefing with some of the Százados who had led the fight to capture the three female Angels.
“What were our losses?” Rokath questioned, hardened to the idea of losing soldiers.
All attention turned to him, and the four Százados offered him hasty salutes. I casually strolled to the pitcher of water on a nearby table and poured some for myself. Even days after returning, I couldn’t help but drink as often as I could. Dehydration in the desert was horrendous. In my delirium, I’d thought that the Reaper had cursed us to die a painful death for loving each other.
Rokath had talked me out of it…eventually. Even now with my mind clear, surrendering that fear proved difficult.
I braced myself to hear the number of soldiers who had perished to aid me, still tender to that exposure.
“Only twenty, Halálhívó,” one replied. “We killed far more than that as well. Thanks to the scout’s information, we were able to take them by surprise.”
A hint of tension bled from Rokath’s shoulders. “You all did very well. Eat and take a much deserved rest.”
They thanked him and departed shortly after. Rokath relayed the information about the female Angels to the two Hadvezér. Since I was there when it happened, I slipped into the bone room and found Grem and Zeec lounging on their favorite cushions. Zeec, thank the Weaver, had made a full recovery. I still pet that spot where he’d been slashed open with the tenderest of care.
The action soothed the sting of knowing that I was responsible for more deaths.
Rokath and Rapp found me with both dogs competing for my attention. “You’d never know they would rip out the throats of anyone we told them to,” I quipped as the curtain fluttered shut behind them.
Rapp laughed and then bent down to stroke their fur as well. Meanwhile, Rokath sighed. “When you two are quite finished, Assyria needs more combat training today.”
“You mean foreplay?” Rapp teased, straightening.
“It is not foreplay,” Rokath groused, fingers flexing like he wanted to strike his friend for the insinuation.
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to smother a laugh.
We hadn’t trained since our return, given how exhausted I’d been. Even now, the heat of the day sapped my energy. Yet this was essential, and I would do whatever it took to become as fierce as I could be. So with aching, protesting limbs, I rose. “Let’s go.”
We found a place near the command center that was relatively devoid of soldiers. Rokath said we wouldn’t need too much space since he wanted to restart hand to hand combat training before providing me with sharp objects.
At least I wouldn’t intentionally stab him anymore.
The thought pulled a small smile to my lips.
I shook out my tired arms and then faced him in the center of the ring he’d toed into the dirt. Rapp sat with his back propped against a wood pole, the dogs on either side of him. Grem and Zeec rested their heads on their paws, eyes tracking our movements.
“Try to punch me,” Rokath commanded.
I shot him a saccharine smile. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.” Then, I leaped forward, at the same time extending my left arm in a jab. Before I made contact, though, I reeled it in and struck out with my right hand. Rokath absorbed the blow to his stomach. His face, unfortunately, was a bit out of my reach.
“Very good,” he praised, and my face flushed.
“No corrections?” I pried, given that every time before, he’d also offered his opinion on how I could be better.
“Maybe later,” he shrugged, spinning on his back foot and out of my reach. “Come at me again.”
I chased him down, wracking my brain for the combinations he’d shown me before. Rapp assisted with a few calls of his own, while Rokath slowed his movement to allow me time to throw everything correctly. We fell into a rhythm, and then he started working in counters and parries, increasing the complexity of our dance.
“I need a break,” I panted after nearly half an hour under the sweltering sun. Sweat poured off me in salty rivulets.
Rapp tossed me a waterskin, and I greedily emptied its contents into my mouth. With the back of my hand, I wiped my brow. It was no use. With how damn hot it was even at the mouth of the Paks Desert, moisture beaded it again instantly.
I had to admit, though, that the drops rolling down Rokath’s torso were far too alluring. As always when we sparred, he was shirtless. His sculpted shoulders were on full display, as were the two lines carved into his lower abdomen into a delicious V that disappeared into his pants.
At the reminder of what lay there, desire coiled low in my center.
Maybe Rapp was right and this was a prelude to sex.
It didn’t help that we also hadn’t coupled since our return. Rokath had been busy, and I’d been recovering. Our bond flared with my greedy thoughts, and Rokath’s attention snapped to me. Flames ignited in his eyes, and he raked his hungry gaze over me.
I tossed the waterskin away and faced him again. Lifting my chin, I circled him like a cat circles her prey. Rokath rose to the challenge, his hulking form somehow growing even bigger as he called smoky onyx to his skin. The dark lines swirled up his arms and around his torso before billowing out behind him and beneath his feet with every step he took.
Dragging in a breath, I called on my own magic, bringing darkness into existence. Like I’d done countless times while traveling with the army, I formed thick lines with them. Though instead of manipulating them to haul goods or push wagons, I let them lie long and loose like whips. Fisting them, I prepared to snap my wrists and do just that in Rokath’s direction.
We struck at the same time, my shadows colliding with a solid shield of Rokath’s. A deep gouge in the onyx lasted only a moment before Rokath’s magic overtook them. Like a twister, it swirled around me, only offering me brief glimpses of my mate. I spun in a circle, trying to figure out where he was and where he would attack from next. The power surrounding me made it impossible to pinpoint his position.
Suddenly, the pitch dropped away, and he pressed against my back, one hand clamping over my mouth while the other banded my stomach. I flashed back to the moment the Angels had done just that, when they’d slapped a putrid rag over my face and knocked me out. A scream ripped from my throat, and I thrashed in Rokath’s hold as pure terror shattered through my veins.
He released me, and I lurched forward. Spinning me to face him, he crouched down so we were level. “Breathe, Assyria. You’re safe with me. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
Darkness dissipated as I blinked, coming back to myself. To the camp. To the feel of my mate’s calloused hands on my shoulders. To the stench of unwashed bodies and burnt earth.
I dragged in a serrated breath, matching the rise and fall of my mate’s chest.
“I’m sorry, I never should have touched you like that. I didn’t think…”
Of course, he’d figured out exactly what had upset me. Since we’d admitted our feelings to one another and accepted the mate bond the Fates had blessed us with, we had no barriers between us anymore.
When I said nothing, he stepped back, nostrils flaring. But it was the guilt in his expression that had me reaching for his hand. Seeking the comfort only he could offer me.
“I’m safe with you,” I repeated, mostly as a message to the trembling parts of me that still screamed to fight.
His harsh features softened, and his thumb ghosted across the back of my hand, grounding me further.
“When you’re ready, I will show you exactly how to react if someone does that to you again,” Rokath growled, his protectiveness rising like a pillar of flame. That dark flare soothed the part of me that had been hurt time and time again by males with ill intent.
I never wanted to be vulnerable like that again. Pressing a hand over my racing heart, I reminded it that was what we were here to do. To learn. To improve. To bloom.
Calmness settled over me again.
You’ve got this, Assyria.
“Show me.”
Rokath’s hands dropped away, and he circled around to my back. His damp skin pressed into mine, and I reminded myself again that my mate would not hurt me. More of his essence lingered on my skin as he draped his arms as they had been before. “If your attacker has only one arm around your middle, he has a weakness there. Shove down while twisting away.”
The way his breath brushed against my neck dragged a shiver from me. Clamping my hands over his wrist, I pressed down with all my might, turning into him. He offered little resistance. Within a heartbeat, I was free.
“Again,” he commanded. I lined back with his front, and he splayed his large hand across my stomach. Any lower, and he’d brush the waistband of my pants. The muscles in his forearm twitched as I gripped it. When I shoved it down and away, his fingers brushed lower still, so close to the area I was dying for him to stroke me.
When I reset for the fifth time, Rokath’s hardness dug into my backside. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one affected by our position. This time, Rokath also covered my mouth. “Don’t worry about this so much as the other hand,” he told me. “This may feel like I am controlling you, but in reality, it’s the other doing most of the work. Your center of gravity is there, and it is from there I can leverage your weight to maneuver you.”
An image of him snatching me backward and settling me in his lap so he could fuck me entered my mind unbidden. I realized a moment later the descriptive pose came from him.
Rapp whistled suggestively, grinning like a madman when our attention sliced to him. “If you two are finished grinding against each other, might I suggest you teach Assyria how to counter the position as well?”
Rokath cursed Rapp beneath his breath, and I giggled in response. He removed his hand from my mouth and wrapped the other around me, arranging my hands so one gripped his wrist and the other gripped my own. “Hold like this while you twist out of my hold. Keep it as you step around to my backside. In the end, you should have my arm pinned behind me.”
“Okay,” I said, swallowing. Coherent thoughts were impossible to grasp with how we were pressed together. I pushed his arm down, flexing my fingers as I turned into him. Muscles rippled around his shoulder as I stepped to my right, shoving his fist into his side.
“Keep going around,” he told me.
I did, awkwardly maneuvering around him until I’d wrenched his fist into his lower back. Then, I let go. “Like that?”
“Close. Come here.” Rokath motioned for me to return to his backside. He wrapped my arms around his waist and I peered around him to see what he was doing. Using the same grip he showed me, he shoved my arm down and turned to face me. “Watch my feet.”
I did, realizing I’d stepped out of order when he spun behind me and pinned my arm. “Let me try again.”
