Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Trying my best to put Elsie out of my mind—and failing spectacularly—I portal myself to the clearing in the jungle behind the palace. Kian is already there, pacing in the circle of gum trees and flexing his muscles. Warming up, no doubt.
A sardonic smile finds its way to my lips. “Practicing your rusted skills?”
He stops and pins me with a narrow-eyed look. “You’re late.”
“Impatient.” I click my tongue. “It’s not like you, brother.” Peeling my lips into a wider grin, I walk to the center of the clearing. “Did you miss me?”
“Was it difficult to get out of bed?” he taunts me with a laugh. “Was it nice and warm with your mate in it?”
The mention of Elsie in such a disrespectful manner sets me off like a strike of lightning. I charge at him like a rabid dragon, pulling back my arm and aiming for his dirty mouth, but Kian is fast. He can’t read my mind because I’ve blocked it. Nevertheless, he sees me coming.
He sidesteps to the left and slips behind me, catching me off-guard with the fist he smashes on my side. I barely grunt, although I feel it. I turn around and swing another punch at him, but he’s skirted around me again. I definitely feel the fist he jams into my lower back.
I leap out of reach and prowl in a wide circle, getting the coward in my vision. A parasite vine that creeps around a tree decides it’s a good moment to try and strangle me. It knots its tentacles around my neck, its multiple suckers already drawing blood through my skin.
Kian chuckles as I wrestle with the parasite. I could’ve easily melted the carnivore, but no powers or weapons are allowed in the clearing. Just our bare hands.
My brother is unscrupulous enough to take advantage of the situation by pounding his fists into my stomach. I tear the tentacles straight off the trunk of the creeper, but the faster I dismantle them, the faster they grow back.
The next blow falls on my chin. My head snaps back from the impact. Another one hits me straight on the mouth. A metallic taste coats my tongue. Enraged with the pesky creeper, I rip it off my neck so hard the whole vine comes off the tree. I chuck it aside and wipe the blood from my split upper lip while Kian laughs at me.
Coward. Kian has always fought like a sand snake. He likes to come up from behind and bite you in the heel or to lurk in the grass until you’re incapacitated before he strikes. But I’m done playing.
I hook a fist under his chin, sending him flying. The air leaves his lungs with a thud as his back hits the ground. An opportunistic trumpet worm sees his chance and lunges for Kian from the undergrowth on the border of the clearing, fangs bared and saliva dripping.
Kian swipes at the worm irritably, backhanding it on the sensitive membranes behind its feelers hard enough to make it reel. I catch it behind its head and squeeze, preventing it from snapping its jaws at us. Kian pushes to his feet, grabs the tail-end, and flings the worm into the jungle. Then he turns his attention back to the fight, bouncing like a dancer.
He may be light and fast on his feet, but I can read him too. I’ve been sparring with my brothers in amiable and not-so-amiable fights for many moon cycles. When he pounces, aiming another jab at my jaw, I duck and whack him on the ribs.
He grabs his side and doubles over, leaving his face wide open. I plant a fist on his cheek, sending him stumbling backward. Before he’s caught his balance, I knock the wind out of him.
“Enough?” I ask, raising a challenging brow.
Usually, we fight until one of us surrenders, but neither of us wants to make that call because saying it means admitting defeat. More often than not, we go at each other until someone can no longer get up from the ground, and that someone is never me.
Kian spits out blood. “In your wet dreams.”
I grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
I go for him again, letting him get a few jabs in to make the fight a bit fairer. Just as he really gets going, raining vicious punches on my abdomen, I hook another left under his chin. The force of the blow makes his teeth clack together.
A ground crawler, who’s smelled blood, quickly inches closer, its stinger already poised for attack. It’s small enough for Kian to flick it away. The crawler, a leechlike species that’s not easily deterred, dives for the few drops of blood that have already drained into the soil. It swiftly vacuums up the sand. The crawler has the ability to filter blood from anything and to secrete the undigested waste material. It can even swallow stones. We let the small vulture be. Let it suck up whatever it wants as long as it doesn’t interfere with our fight.