Savage Lands Read online

  The men really took it personally, proving sexism was still alive and well. Not just because I was a slim, petite-boned girl, but it seemed to piss the boys off that I was pretty too. As if that was the reason they lost their concentration. As if someone who looked as I did shouldn’t be able to outmatch them.

  Sometimes guys got turned on, laughing and thinking it was a game until I tossed them down like sacks of flour. Their little fragile egos couldn’t handle it.

  Aron Horvát was one of those. He flirted—a lot—when he wasn’t threatening me.

  “Right where you should be…on your back for me, Kovacs,” Aron murmured, winking, his brown eyes rolling salaciously over me.

  “Fuck you, Horvat,” I snarled, getting to my feet, my joints protesting the movement. Adjusting my dark cargo pants, I brushed back a few strands of hair that strayed from my ponytail, sweat trailing down my back.

  “What is wrong with you today, Kovacs?” Sergeant Bakos walked over to me, rubbing his dark brown buzzed head. A few salt-and-pepper hairs were sprinkled through, ones he didn’t have when I joined the academy at fifteen. Five years of dealing with me did that to people.

  He was the training instructor here, coaching the students over the years and turning them into soldiers. He was brutal and relentless, but I respected him, and he didn’t care what gender or body type you had. He simply expected the best from you, teaching you how to use your limitations as positives.

  At five foot five, he was a little shorter than me but built of solid, rippling muscle. No guy here, not even Caden, could outfight him. He showed us strategy and how your own flaws could be an asset in a fight.

  He made me into the fighter I was today. He encouraged me to work harder. Do better. I hated disappointing him.

  Like today.

  “There’s no excuse, sir.” I lifted my head, pinning my arms behind my back in soldier stance.

  “That’s right.” Bakos nodded. “Your enemy won’t give a shit you didn’t sleep well the night before or have a tummy ache.” He stepped back off the mat, speaking to the seven of us still left in this year’s class. “They will kill you in seconds. Attack without warning. Slaughter you without thought or remorse in a blink of an eye.”

  “Like The Wolf,” Hanna said in a spooky voice, her playfulness dropping the moment Bakos glared back at her. “What? We’ve all heard the tales. He will kill you without blinking…and he’s so unbearably hot, you go willingly.”

  “Hanna.” Bakos sighed in annoyance. “I’m here to train you guys for real enemies, not make-believe ones.”

  “My sister’s boyfriend’s father said he was very real,” Hanna countered. “Saw him fight a dozen men at once in the Fae War.”

  “Did he tell you Santa Claus was real too?” Bakos clipped. “The Wolf is nothing but an exaggerated and glorified tale, inflated every time he is mentioned.”

  We all had grown up hearing about the legend of Warwick Farkas. Not fae or human, but a living ghost. His last name meant Wolf, which is how he got the moniker, not because he turned into one. His tale was told to candidates to make them wet the bed at night. The stories about him left you in awe and horror at how easily, and how many, he killed. Barehanded. Gutted, burned, tortured, skinned alive.

  “Back to reality.” Bakos clapped his hands. “The threat of another war is on our doorstep, and our enemy is stronger, faster, harder to kill, and can shift or disappear in front of our eyes. We must be faster, fight even harder, and become smarter than them.” He pointed at me to get back into position. “You will not get a do-over out there, so I never want to see anyone giving me less than one hundred percent. You got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” we replied in unison.

  I dropped down into a defense position, my eyes settling on Aron. A smirk spread over his mouth. Aron could have been good-looking enough, and at one time, I even thought so, but his jealous nature and constant need to be better than everyone made him ugly to me now. He was average in everything, including fighting, with deep insecurity issues that made him overcompensate and fluff his ego to the point I looked forward to sparring with him in class.

  Here I could punch the crap out of him and not get in trouble.

  “If you wanted to be under me again so bad, Kovacs, all you had to do was ask. Clearly, Markos is not satisfying you…though I’ve heard he’s giving it to Lilla really good.”

  I gritted my teeth, moving around him. Don’t let him get to you, I chided myself. Aron loved finding people’s Achilles heel and biting down on it.

  “Unlike you, she’s a real screamer.”

  Rage boiled through my chest, spreading up my esophagus.

  Bakos allowed shit-talk and taunting. Nothing was off the table because what we’d face out there would be much worse. He wanted us prepared to handle it all.

  “Does Markos know I was there first, popped your cherry?” He nodded down to my crotch. “How do you think he’d feel about that?”

  I gritted my teeth in disgust and fury, my body vibrating with the need to pummel him, shut him up. At least I forgot my sore muscles and fatigue.

  I had tried to pretend Caden and I were just friends, and I didn’t like him any more than that. I didn’t care if he was hooking up with Lilla or any of the girls before her. I tried to make it the truth so much that I did the stupidest thing ever.

  I let this asshole in front of me take my virginity one night.

  I was drunk, heartbroken, mad, and lonely, and Aron was the only one who had guts to pursue me. The rest of the guys were too scared of Caden’s reaction. It was like he controlled who I dated, while he freely got to screw every girl who walked by.

  It was the first anniversary of my father’s death. Aron was there, showing me the attention I so desperately craved. Losing my father had left me grasping for something, anything, to anchor me and make me feel good. I’d sunk into the sludge of desperation, watching Caden hook up with girls right in front of me.

  Regret started even before Aron was done—which, let me say—wasn’t long.

  Now my worst remorse and humiliation was in my face daily, taunting me.

  “Come on, Kovacs.” He flicked his wrists, motioning to himself. “I know you want it. You can play the uptight prude all you want, but I know how you enjoy it. Know how easy those legs open.”

  Hanna, the closest I had to a girlfriend, inhaled with shock, her mouth dropping open. Shit. If it wasn’t humiliating enough that I’d ever allowed this piece of crap to touch me, now everyone in this room knew. They stared at me with disbelief and repulsion, and my cheeks heated with shame. I knew they thought I was stuck-up and prudish, not imagining I could possibly have slept with Aron of all people. Especially with how much I clearly hated him.

  Turn your weakness and embarrassment into your favor, I told myself, trying to push away the stunned faces of my comrades.

  Taking a step closer to Aron, my lips curled in a heated smile. He stood there, watching me, his eyes widening with lust.

  “Honestly, you were so incompetent in bed, I’d be surprised if you can even get yourself off.” My voice went low and husky.

  There was a beat.

  “Oooohhhh, dammmnnn!” A few guys laughed, covering their mouths in shock.

  Aron’s head jerked back, his lids narrowing, nose flaring. “You bitch!” he sneered, leaping for me. All emotion and no strategy.

  Perfect.

  Twisting my body, I snapped my elbow up, digging into his esophagus and knocking him back. Aron grabbed for his throat, stumbling back, hacking and gasping for air. I was taught never to let your opponent recover. It might be the only chance you have to live.

  Spinning, I kicked out, jabbing at the tendon in his knee.

  “Ah!” He cried out as my boot slammed into his chest, tossing him back on the mat. Jumping down, I pinned his arms with my knees, my elbow pressing into the soft curve of his neck. His expression pinched with pain while his eyes glared at me with rage, his lips curling in a snarl.

>   “You’re right, Horvát.” I leaned into him, digging in deeper. “You do know how I like it.”

  “All right, Kovacs. That’s enough,” Bakos yelled to me.

  I winked at Aron, withdrawing, basking in smugness as I stepped from the mat.

  My self-satisfaction was suddenly clipped like bird wings, plummeting me back to earth with a painful crunch the next moment. Caden leaned against the door, which he did frequently, watching my class spar. He’d later give me pointers, working on moves with me. But this time, he was not grinning at me. His arms were folded, his expression taut and cold, but his brown eyes burned into me, ripping through my soul and peeling back my skin. His chest puffed in and out as he took in air.

  There was no doubt. He heard everything.

  His mouth pinched together, his head shaking slightly, and pain flashed in his eyes before he snapped his head away from me and turned, striding down the hall.

  Drowning in guilt and sadness, I pitched forward, wanting to run after him. But years of training held me in place, going against my instinct to follow him. To explain.

  Settling back in my place next to Hanna, I bit down on my lip, holding back the emotions trying to leap from my heart that wanted to make me say and do something stupid.

  “Damn, girl,” Hanna whispered under her breath.

  “He deserved it.”

  “Aron always does,” she muttered, her head staying forward. “But that’s not what I was talking about.”

  Oh. That. “It was a mistake.” My jaw clenched, my chin hitching up again as I watched another pair move to the mat. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, we will definitely be talking about it at the party tonight.” She leaned in toward me.

  Party?

  Oh shit.

  I had totally forgotten. Istvan enjoyed impressing people, being admired. The more noses up his ass, the happier he was. He threw parties all the time—galas, balls, festivals—to schmooze with the rich and powerful. There they made deals, forged alliances, and gained more influence and power.

  Tonight was no different. General Markos wanted to greatly impress the Romanian leader. I had no idea why, but he kept reminding Caden and me about the importance of this night. Funny, I ended up completely forgetting about it. Again.

  I wasn’t the kind of girl who enjoyed getting dressed up in torturous outfits and shoes, and I was rarely on my best behavior with stuffy, boring people. I’d rather be in my cargo pants and tank hanging out with Caden, drinking palinka straight from the bottle at our favorite spot.

  “But again, that’s not what I meant.”

  I peered at Hanna. An impish smile wobbled on her mouth, her blonde eyebrows rising to wicked peaks.

  “What?”

  “You are so blind.” She shook her head, then tipped her chin toward the door. “Ca-den…”

  “What about him?” I swallowed, heat clogging my throat and spreading over my skin. Why was he so angry? Yeah, Aron was an asshole, but Caden had no say in who I slept with. He had screwed half the girls here, and now he acted as though I’d hurt him? How dare he.

  Anger diluted the mix of other emotions.

  “Did you not see his face?” she stressed. “You might as well have stabbed him in the heart.”

  “What? No. That wasn’t it at all.” It was disgust.

  “Suuuree.” She shook her head. “You two. Someone needs to smack you guys in the head.” She leaned in closer, whispering, “Maybe flirting with Sergiu tonight will wake Caden up. I’ve heard he’s gotten really cute.”

  “Sergiu?” I gagged. “Are you serious? Gross. Plus, haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

  “His kink is beating up prostitutes he’s screwing, and he won’t date anyone because he thinks he’s above everyone?” She shrugged. “Yeah, but think how riled up Caden would get if you flirted with him. Might finally get him to act. Because Sergiu would fall over his tongue to get to you. All men do.”

  “Hanna, you’re up.” Bakos waved to her.

  “Ugh. I hope I don’t get a black eye like I had at the last ball. Doesn’t match my dress.” She sighed, tightening her blonde ponytail. “And rumor is the minister of Serbia loves blondes and is very kinky.” Hanna wiggled her eyebrows at me before heading to the mat.

  I barely registered the last part, my mind still whirling around what she said about Caden. Could there be a chance he felt the same way? I was scared to hope. I had lost so many people in my life. I didn’t want to lose him either. Yet once he graduated, he would be moving up in the ranks, leaving this place to get field experience, stepping up in the role his father carved out for him.

  Tonight might be my last chance to make him see me and what we had together. Or could have.

  I would tell Caden how I felt.

  For good or bad, tonight, everything would change.

  Chapter 4

  “Stop fidgeting. You look stunning.” Rebeka patted my wrist, similar to the way someone would tap the nose of a misbehaving dog. “The dress is impeccable on you.”

  Compulsion moved my fingers back to the top of the dress, tugging at the material, which barely covered the sides of my breasts. Not that I needed much to cover the minimal boobs I had. Genes and years of training had left my body very trim and flat. So many women would gush over my slim build, saying how lucky I was for my “model” figure and looks, while I looked at their soft curves with jealousy. I was all hard angles and coolness, nothing inviting or warm.

  Many older men had told me how “sensual” they found me. Even at a very young age, my confidence and appearance drew unwanted notice and touches. I wasn’t oblivious to how I looked, the power it generated—I just didn’t care. Men treated me more as something they wanted to conquer or possess, not truly love.

  “You will turn many heads tonight, my dear.” Rebeka smiled softly at me, a deep sadness filling her brown eyes. The same deep brown as her son’s.

  Rebeka was in her early forties and beautiful with her silky auburn hair, deep brown eyes, and full lips. She was my height and trim, but she had the curves I always longed for, which were on display in her delicately ornate gown cinched around her small waist. The front was nearly transparent, with beads and jewels placed to catch the light and set perfectly to look glamorous and elegant instead of cheap. Navy tulle descended from her waist to the floor, and her hair was pulled up in an intricate bun, diamonds dripping off her ears.

  As a young girl, I used to idolize her. Wanted to be identical to her.

  The older I got, the more I realized her perfection was a prison. She was good at doing her duty as “queen” of Leopold. Smiling, charming leaders and their wives, throwing the best parties and being the beauty standing at her husband’s side. She wasn’t a silent partner, though; she could put at ease and relax even the most severe, bad-tempered person in the world. Rebeka and Istvan made a good team. When he couldn’t get something from someone, she went in, and I had yet to see her fail, making me wonder how far she went to win. She wasn’t clueless to her husband’s infidelity, but she never spoke of it. Only in brief moments would I catch a vulnerability and sadness in her eyes. But from little things I had picked up over the years, she didn’t let her bed grow cold either.

  “You will do well tonight.” She tucked her arm in mine, guiding us to the ballroom.

  “Do well?” I peered at her through my dark lashes.

  “Before our independence from the Unified Nations, things were better for women here. Young ladies could marry freely, be whatever they wanted. The war changed that, moving us backward here. I hope someday we will have freedom again, but until then, many of us women do not dare to strive above the brunt of duty and circumstance. We wield our power in more subtle ways.”

  Her fingers tightened on my arm, making me swallow over the growing lump in my throat. Where Istvan always criticized me, Rebeka was more caring. She wasn’t someone who baked cookies or played games with you, but she treated me with kindness. Sometimes even ac
ted as a friend.

  “I don’t understand.”

  She stopped before the large double doors of the ballroom, impeccably dressed guards ready to open them for us. She turned to me, and a sad smile softened her painted lips, her fingers swishing a strand of my long black hair over my shoulder. Normally, it was straight, hitting my lower back, but Maja had curled it in loose waves, adding a few tiny jewels within the locks.

  “You will soon.” Her lips pressed together. She shook her head slightly, rolling back her shoulders. “Now, lift up your beautiful face and show everyone in the room they can take nothing away from you. No matter what. Never apologize for how others react to your strength.”

  My lungs fluttered at her odd speech. Rebeka had never been one for sentimentality or inspiring speeches. And she had never walked into a party with me, usually entering on the general’s arm.

  Why tonight?

  “Rebeka?” I searched her eyes, but they were walled up again, her pleasant hostess smile pinned on her face.

  “It’s time.” She curved back, nodding at the guards. The doors split open, revealing the breathtaking circular room. Istvan used his sixteen-sided central hall as the “ballroom.” The guests arrived at the front entrance that led them through the jaw-dropping grandeur of the main hall, highlighted by old plated staircases, huge ornately curved ceilings, stained-glass windows, and glass fire-bulbs flickering on the gold lampposts lining the room. Waiters and servants took coats and offered champagne while a small orchestra played on the upper landing, filling the room with music.

  Then they were guided to the central hall, the gold starburst designed dome ceiling leaving the visitor stunned at the ostentatiousness of the room. A huge orchestra sat on an upper level, where several full bars and tables of decadent food stood. Tons of waitstaff mulled around with rich hors d’oeuvre and champagne. Magic-influenced fire-bulbs and twinkle lights cast the room in a seductive ambiance. It never ceased to leave me breathless.

  Heads snapped in our direction; Rebeka always made a memorable entrance. Now her eyes drifted to me.