I might have made a snarky comment about how he’d been right that I’d be on my knees next if I hadn’t needed to hurry. I cocked back my arm, delivering a sharp jab to his stomach and aiming for his spleen. I wasn’t even sure Vessels had organs, but it seemed like it would be worth a shot.
My knees struck the dirt, and I flattened my palms together. After sliding them between his legs, I spread them wide and tucked them behind his knees, then pulled. Gray’s legs bent forward. I hurried to get my hands free before they became trapped, spinning to my feet and raising a leg.
The roundhouse connected with the side of his face, knocking his head to the side. He caught my ankle and used it to twist my body. My other leg left the ground, leaving me to spin in the air as I fell to the ground. The moment my back struck the earth, I wheezed and attempted to get to my feet once again.
“Fuck,” I groaned, pressing a hand to my chest.
Gray closed the distance, crawling over my prone body to straddle my hips and glare down at me. Blood welled at the corner of his mouth, and it gave me a moment of pride to know that I’d at least injured him before he knocked me on my ass.
He stared down at me, seeming entirely unconcerned with the way the others around us whispered as he reached for my wrists. I punched him in the face, spreading the gash on his lip as he smiled and finally caught me, pinning my hands to the ground next to my head.
I barely resisted the urge to spit in his face.
“Hate me all you want, Witchling. I’m trying to keep you alive,” he said, cutting off my words as he leaned forward. “You’re not human. So stop fighting like one.”
I swallowed, not having reached for my magic once during our spar. I assumed that was normal, but as I glanced around, the other students seemed to call theirs to their aid as they moved.
My father had taught me to fight. My father—who did not possess even an inkling of magic in his veins.
I swallowed, nodding in agreement for once. I couldn’t argue with what we both knew was true. He released me finally, getting to his feet and leaving me sprawled on the ground.
“Get up,” he muttered, squaring himself all over again.
I pushed to my feet much more slowly, focusing on my breathing and dropping into that place my mother had taught me to touch. To stroke and nourish. The magic of the earth flowed through my veins. Their voices spoke in my ear; all I had to do was listen.
My eyes drifted closed as I touched what remained of life around me. Gray stared at me when I opened my eyes, giving me the moment I needed to ready myself.
I lunged first this time, striking toward him as I aimed for his face. He sidestepped as I pulled on the grass with my magic, encouraging it to grow and extend. When he moved, the grass wrapped around his feet, holding him still as I tried again.
He evaded even still, his speed far too fast for me to even consider matching. It was impossible to get to him in a one on one, and my frustration grew.
“You’re a witch, Willow. So be a fucking witch and work in tandem with your magic.”
I growled, reaching for the dirt as he broke free from the blades of grass and caught me around the waist. His hands pressed into my stomach, lifting me from the ground as he flung me backward. The earth rose up to meet me this time, catching me and cradling me as I sprawled on my back.
The bastard flicked a piece of dirt off his shirt, staring down at me and making my blood boil.
“Again.”
I went again.
28
WILLOW
I was going to fucking kill him. In his sleep, preferably, when he couldn’t fight back. I lowered myself into the bathtub later that night, wincing as the scalding water touched my sore muscles. Everything hurt, a deep throbbing ache that I hadn’t felt for years now.
My father’s best efforts had stopped being productive when I’d reached my teen years, quickly outmatching him, and he’d had to focus my training in other ways. With other opponents, trapped in a ring where he could place bets on whether I’d win or lose and make money off my attempts.
He bet against me more often than not. Some of the greatest joys in my life came from those days when I clawed my way out of the ring, my body broken and bleeding, in time to watch him hand a wad of cash to the man who organized those fights.
By that point, the earth answered my call when I needed healing. My magic hadn’t fully awakened until sixteen, but it still recognized me and the blood that dripped upon the earth as I stumbled toward my father’s car.
My injuries would disappear; nothing for my mother to see. My father’s threats toward my brother always rang in my ears when I didn’t tell her exactly what happened, keeping me quiet. She never knew the depths he would go for his vengeance, never knew exactly what he’d planned.