The false dawn shimmered through the veil of Lexi's cottage, spilling silver light across the floorboards like liquid fire. Outside, the pond rippled faintly, starlight bending and stretching as though the heavens themselves were trapped in its waters.
Lexi stepped barefoot onto the grass, her body sleek, predatory. Today, she burned with hunger — not for food, not even for blood, but for proof. For Derek.
He waited there already. Her shadow. Her knight. His tall form loomed at the edge of the training grounds, the morning glow washing across the rigid lines of his frame.
And his eyes… they were on her. Always on her.
"Come," she commanded, smirk curling on her lips like a blade unsheathed. "Let's see how much sharper you've become."
Derek bowed his head, but when he lifted his gaze again, there was fire there.
Two daggers shimmered into her hands, their edges catching the false light. She tossed one toward him. He caught it effortlessly, the movement a blur, almost inhuman. His fingers tightened around the hilt as though the weapon had always belonged to him.
Lexi's pulse quickened. He was growing. Stronger. Too strong.
Perfect.
She lunged first.
Their daggers clashed with a sound like crackling lightning. She spun low, her movements quick and sinuous, aiming for his ribs. Derek blocked, the force of his parry so powerful it sent a shockwave up her arm.
She hissed, but her grin only widened. "You're not holding back anymore."
His voice was calm, but it rumbled deeper than before. "You told me to grow stronger, Mistress."
Lexi danced around him, striking again. He met her every blow, relentless, faster than she had ever seen him. Each strike pressed her closer to her limit. Each block revealed just how wide the gulf between their strengths had grown.
Yet he never let the blade bite her flesh.
Every slash he aimed was diverted at the last moment, controlled with terrifying precision. His grip, when he caught her wrist or waist, was iron-hard but never bruising.
He could have broken her a dozen times already. But he didn't.
That restraint thrilled her.
Lexi ducked low, her body twisting, slipping under his guard. Her leg hooked around his, dragging him slightly off balance. She pressed close, her lips nearly brushing his jaw as her blade skimmed his throat.
"Almost," she whispered, breath hot against his skin.
Derek twisted, faster than her eyes could track. In a blink, she was the one trapped, her wrist caught in his grip, her back pressed flush against his chest, his dagger hovering at her shoulder.
His voice came low, steady, burning against her ear. "You cannot beat me in strength."
Lexi laughed, breathless, her body writhing against his hold. "Strength isn't everything."
She drove her knee up, forcing him to adjust his stance. She slipped free with the grace of water, spinning to face him again. Her smirk curved sharper, darker. "You see, Derek… I only need to be cleverer than you."
Their daggers clashed again. The fight grew ruthless.
Derek moved like a storm, his blows heavy enough to send shocks through her bones. Lexi countered with agility, spinning, ducking, her body weaving around him like a serpent. Where he was overwhelming, she was unpredictable. Where he pressed with force, she slipped away with cunning.
Every move was a dance of violence and intimacy. His blade kissed the air inches from her skin; her hand brushed his chest as she shoved him back. Her smirk dared him; his burning eyes promised only her.
She teased him with every dodge, every feint. "Too slow," she murmured when she slid under his strike. "Too stiff," when she twisted his arm and slipped away. Her lips brushed his cheek once when she darted too close, only for him to seize her by the waist and hurl her back — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind her of his monstrous strength.
The ground tore under his steps. The air cracked under their clash. Yet Derek never crossed the line. His restraint was terrifying — like a wolf snapping its teeth an inch from her throat, leashed by nothing but his will.
And Lexi loved it.
Finally, she hooked her blade with his, their arms straining, bodies colliding. His heat radiated through her, his breath fanning against her face. Her smirk curled, lips hovering near his.
"Kill me."
The words fell soft, poisoned honey. A dare. A test.
Derek froze. His dagger trembled against hers, his body going utterly still. But his eyes — his eyes burned hotter than flame, hotter than any sun. They locked onto hers, unflinching, searing.
Lexi's smirk faltered. She hadn't expected that look.
"I said," she whispered again, more dangerously, "kill me."
The silence stretched, thick, suffocating.
Then, slowly, Derek stepped back.
Lexi waited, her breath quickening. For the blade. For the slash. For her blood.
But instead —
He turned his dagger inward.
Her heart lurched. "Derek—"
He pressed the tip against his own chest, his grip steady, his gaze never leaving hers.
"If you command death, Mistress," he said, voice low, absolute, "it will be mine, not yours."
And he drove the blade toward himself.
"Stop!" Lexi lunged, seizing his wrist before steel could pierce flesh. Her voice cracked like thunder, her command raw, desperate.
Derek froze instantly. His arm trembled with the force of his halted strike, veins straining against her grip, but he did not move further. The dagger hovered an inch above his heart.
Her chest heaved. Her fingers dug into his skin. "You fool," she hissed, voice shaking despite her smirk. "What in hell are you doing?"
His eyes burned into her, hotter than flame. "I will not harm you. Ever. My blade belongs to your enemies, not you. If you demand death, it is mine to give."
Her throat tightened. The words wrapped around her like chains, heavy and intoxicating.
"You'd rather die," she whispered, breath unsteady, "than lift your hand against me?"
"Yes," Derek said simply. "Your life is my law. If blood must spill, it will always be mine before yours."
Lexi's grip shook. She shoved his hand down, the dagger clattering to the ground. Her breath tore through her chest, ragged and hot.
"Idiot," she spat, but her voice trembled. "I didn't tell you to kill yourself."
Derek sank to one knee instantly, head bowed, though his eyes still blazed upward into hers.
"Then command me otherwise. Shape me. Use me. But know this truth: I will never raise a hand against you. I would rather end myself a thousand times than see your skin marred by my blade. This is my oath."
Lexi stared, her lips parting. She should have laughed, mocked him for his blind devotion. But her heart thundered too violently. His words coiled inside her, sharp and sweet, terrifying and thrilling.
She stepped closer, her fingers curling under his chin, forcing his face up to hers.
"Swear it again," she breathed, her lips brushing the air between them.
"I swear," Derek said, his voice rough but steady. "On my strength, on this body, on whatever I am — I belong only to you. My life is yours. My death is yours. Every breath, every strike, every choice… yours. Forever."
Her smirk trembled, her chest rising sharply. She leaned closer, her mouth a whisper from his. "Careful, Derek. Oaths like that bind you to me until the end of eternity."
"Yes," he said without hesitation. His gaze burned like chains locking shut.
Her fingers trailed down his jaw before she pulled back, shaky and sharp. "Good," she whispered. "You're learning."
The fight was over, but the air still crackled with ruthless energy, with intimacy sharper than blades. Derek rose, silent once more, returning to her shadow like he had never moved.
But Lexi's pulse hadn't calmed. Her body still thrummed with the memory of his strength, his restraint, his devotion so absolute it terrified her.
He was more than a knight now. More than a puppet.
He was hers — unbreakably, irrevocably, dangerously hers.
And she knew, with a shiver of thrill and dread, that one day she might no longer be the one holding the strings.