Chapter One
TINA POV
I stood there, transfixed, as the muscles on his back flexed with each powerful swing of his sword. His opponent was fast, a blur of movement, but he was faster. The air was filled with the sharp clang of steel clashing against steel, the sound ringing out like a violent symphony.
The chief’s hair was as black as a raven’s wing, cut short in stark contrast to his kinsmen, who favoured long, plaited locks. While most women might not find short hair appealing, I couldn’t help but imagine how my hands would feel tangled in those dark, close-cropped strands.
Each strike was precise and calculated. He moved with a deadly grace, his body a perfect weapon honed by years of training. His sparring partner, though skilled, was clearly struggling to keep up, his movements becoming increasingly frantic.
A particularly vicious swing sent sparks flying, and his sparring partner staggered back, barely managing to block the blow. Seizing the opportunity, he pressed forward, his sword a relentless barrage of strikes. The partner’s defence crumbled, his footing faltering under the relentless assault.
With a final, forceful thrust, he drove his sword past his partner’s defences. The blunt edge of the practice blade landed squarely on the chest, and his partner gasped, a look of shock and exertion flashing across his face before he fell to one knee, breathless but unharmed.
Breathing heavily, he stood over his winded partner, the tip of his practice sword pointed down. He extended a hand, helping his partner to his feet.
“Good match,” he said, his voice steady and calm. His eyes, however, burned with a fierce intensity that hinted at the unyielding drive within him.
His partner nodded, still catching his breath. “You’re getting faster,” he admitted, wiping sweat from his brow.
His partner finally caught his breath and saw me watching their match. A smirk appeared on his face as he nodded his head towards me. I saw his lips move, but I couldn’t hear what he said. The chief’s back suddenly became still as he slightly turned his head, his blue eyes locking onto mine. He raised a dark eyebrow, and a slow, confident smirk spread across his face. His tongue darted out, licking his lips in a gesture that sent a shiver down my spine.
My eyes widened in horror at the realization that the chief had caught me watching him. Panic surged through me, and I quickly gathered my wits. Without a second thought, I spun on my heel and made a beeline for the castle, my heart pounding in my chest.
I stood there, transfixed, as the muscles on his back flexed with each powerful swing of his sword. His opponent was fast, a blur of movement, but he was faster. The air was filled with the sharp clang of steel clashing against steel, the sound ringing out like a violent symphony.
The chief’s hair was as black as a raven’s wing, cut short in stark contrast to his kinsmen, who favoured long, plaited locks. While most women might not find short hair appealing, I couldn’t help but imagine how my hands would feel tangled in those dark, close-cropped strands.
Each strike was precise and calculated. He moved with a deadly grace, his body a perfect weapon honed by years of training. His sparring partner, though skilled, was clearly struggling to keep up, his movements becoming increasingly frantic.
A particularly vicious swing sent sparks flying, and his sparring partner staggered back, barely managing to block the blow. Seizing the opportunity, he pressed forward, his sword a relentless barrage of strikes. The partner’s defence crumbled, his footing faltering under the relentless assault.
With a final, forceful thrust, he drove his sword past his partner’s defences. The blunt edge of the practice blade landed squarely on the chest, and his partner gasped, a look of shock and exertion flashing across his face before he fell to one knee, breathless but unharmed.
Breathing heavily, he stood over his winded partner, the tip of his practice sword pointed down. He extended a hand, helping his partner to his feet.
“Good match,” he said, his voice steady and calm. His eyes, however, burned with a fierce intensity that hinted at the unyielding drive within him.
His partner nodded, still catching his breath. “You’re getting faster,” he admitted, wiping sweat from his brow.
His partner finally caught his breath and saw me watching their match. A smirk appeared on his face as he nodded his head towards me. I saw his lips move, but I couldn’t hear what he said. The chief’s back suddenly became still as he slightly turned his head, his blue eyes locking onto mine. He raised a dark eyebrow, and a slow, confident smirk spread across his face. His tongue darted out, licking his lips in a gesture that sent a shiver down my spine.
My eyes widened in horror at the realization that the chief had caught me watching him. Panic surged through me, and I quickly gathered my wits. Without a second thought, I spun on my heel and made a beeline for the castle, my heart pounding in my chest.
