Page 15 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Oh, here, let me help you!” she said with forced cheerfulness.

“I’m good,” I shot back.

“You can’t go if you don’t wear your blindfold—don’t want the beasts coming for you.”

“I said I’m good.”

Her smile sharpened. “Then I’ll have Tara and Jess walk you back to your cabin if you’re scared, little girl.”

I rolled my eyes, more irritated that she was pretending not to know me than the fact that I gave enough of a crap to follow Shay into this mess.

With another sigh, I yanked the blindfold over my eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” the big idiot chirped before stepping away. I listened to the gravel shift under her feet as I stood there, blinking into nothing.

Shuffling forward, I stretched my arms until I collided into Shay, who giggled like the rest of them.

August would give me absolute hell if he ever found out about this. So, I resolved right then and there not to let him.

Hand gripping Shay’s shoulder, I followed her deeper and deeper into the mountains. Time dragged. My eyes ached beneath the blindfold’s forced darkness. Then—suddenly—the line came to an abrupt halt.

I slammed into Shay’s back.

Someone gasped.

Gravel skidded.

Screams tore through the night.

And my friend’s body was yanked away.

Seven weeks before the portals opened…

Blaz yanked his shoulder away from my grip, and I snarled in response. I’d been a decent fighter in all my lives, but it had never been something I craved like a Goddess of retribution. Not like Alvara, who lived and breathed bloodshed, or my soul-parents, who could slit a throat and wipe the blade clean in the next breath with all the finesse of opening a package. You didn’t have to be a stabby menace to society to get the job done. I’d always preferred my enemies to know exactly who had thwarted them and what I had stolen from them—over leaving them a husk on the earth. Besides, if killing was necessary, there were cleaner ways to do it.

I ducked, dodging his next swing, and threw a jab, which he promptly outmaneuvered. Five straight days of this incessant twelve-hour routine had passed, all thanks to Reyna’s relentless insistence. She was worse than Aren, forcing me to train until my body failed, loading my plate with enough protein to make any carnivore go vegan, and acting like my skill set was useless unless I polished the rust off my past-life hand-to-hand.

“You know.” I panted, dancing around my opponent. “If you let them get their hands on you, you already failed.”

“That why you’ve recirculated so many times?” he sniped back, earning a snort of laughter from Brody, who was sprawled across two chairs, feigning sleep beneath the cowboy hat on his face. “Maybe you’d die less often if you learned to fight.”

Landing my right hook, I grunted as he grabbed my retracting arm and yanked me forward. “Death is the lone inevitable in a life of variables. It’s unwise to fear that which cannot be avoided.”

“Poetic,” he growled, attempting to throw me to the ground, surprise flashing across his face when I stayed on my feet.

“Factual,” I countered. “Besides—” My uppercut had him reeling back as I panted, “—we come back stronger every damn time. What are you so afraid of, Blazzy?” My sneer curled into a smirk as he glared, circling like a predator. The kid hated that nickname, much to my amusement.

“Wasting my first cycle,” he breathed just before dropping his shoulder and tackling me like a damn football player. Ribs screaming, every scrap of air was knocked from my lungs as we hit the mat, my pride reeling as he straddled me. If this damn vessel couldn’t remember how to jump soon, that might be the end of my usefulness. “Not bein’ there when my people need me.” A rattling gasp wheezed out of me as he mimed a blade to my throat, sly smile on his face as he barked, “There are fates worse than death, Miss Porter. You’d do kindly to remember that Bellatons fight not just to preserve life, but dignity.”

“Nice form, Blaz.” Reyna’s cold tone caressed my senses, my eyes sliding closed in frustration.

Seven rounds, and naturally, this was the moment she’d waltz in. With a growl, I bucked my hips and flipped him off me.

“You’re needed in the war room,” she said simply before unceremoniously turning and sashaying away with that irritating bell-like sway of blush-draped hips.

No one wearing tulle and kitten heels should be permitted to bear the title of Commander.

Scrambling, I lunged forward to knock Blaz aside before straightening and rushing to follow. His barked laughter bounced off the training room walls.