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“Your chatting is distracting,” Rainer says.
He says nothing else as he passes, but I catch a whiff of his scent. It’s so deliciously raw. Sweet and masculine, at the same time.
Like sweat and roses.
My stomach tightens with something akin to lust, which subsequently brings burning shame along with it.
I turn, watching him leave over my shoulder. He turns back, too, and a brief flicker of surprise crosses his features. He pauses and we stare at each other for a long, painfully tense moment. My stomach turns inside out with anticipation. I think he might come back, or say something to me, but he doesn’t move.
Instead, he scowls at me and saunters away.
“What was that?” Ken smirks.
“Does he bathe in rose petals or something?” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder, in the direction Rainer went.
He probably wears the scent of his aphrodisiac roses as a form of manipulation, tricking others into lusting after him.
Ken’s reply is a hearty, good-natured laugh. “If you’re trying to blame your speedy little heart rate on something other than your own desire, you’re out of luck. Rai’s scent is richer, less sweet than the Damasks. More like regular ol’ roses.” He taps his nose. “Shifter senses, sorry.”
My cheeks heat. I shouldn’t have said anything. Not only did Ken sense my body’s interest in Rainer, but now I’ve acknowledged it aloud. And worse, I can’t blame the aphrodisiac roses for it.
“If you say anything to him about this—”
“Our little secret.” He puts his hands up, still cracking up at the situation.
Despite my embarrassment, I find myself chuckling in return. “I mean it, Ken.”
“I’m a bear of my word.”
“Can we start training now? Forget about this?”
“Oh, I will never forget this, little human.”
“Then at least teach me how to fight so I can kick your arse if you ever repeat this.”
“Look at you growing a backbone.” He claps slowly. “You’ll be something to reckon with if you keep that confidence up.”
I bite down the smile forming on my lips, kicking the grass bashfully. He’s right. I am growing more confident. It’s a combination of things: losing Char, being free of the lord, going toe-to-toe with Rainer, and the buzzy excitement about training.
For a few moments, I forget about escaping.
Viveka makes her way to us, wiping her forehead with a cloth and drinking water from a canteen with her other hand.
She screws the canteen’s cap back on and tosses it aside. Inclining her head, she scans me from head to toe. Her eyes crinkle in the corner as she smiles.
“You must be Alessia,” she says.
A stupid grin crosses my face at someone finally using my name instead of human.
“And you’re Viveka?”
“Just Viv.” She nods.
Up close, I’m in even more awe of her. She's powerful with muscular arms, thick thighs, and an aura of leadership about her. Women are not trained in any sort of battle in Dovenak. They’re only to be seen, not heard. If they’re not in the Trade then they’re meant to keep house, tend their husbands, and host social gatherings. Not wear pants, and definitely not wield swords.
I want that.
To be truly strong. Not only mentally, like I am, but physically, too.
