"I know."
"Then I accept your terms." She stepped back. "Now prepare to die." Stryker manifested two ancient Greek swords and handed one to her. Her eyes glowing with anger, she took it from his hand and readied herself. Stryker saluted her with his.
She charged, slicing at his throat. He caught the blade with his and forced her back. Twirling, he changed hands to catch her on an upswing that almost succeeded in disarming her. But she was quick and strong. And like him, she changed hands, and drove him back with the ferocity of her attack.
"You're incredible," he breathed, impressed with her skill and passion.
"And you're not." She scissor-kicked him back and swung the blade at his neck.
Stryker felt the burn of it as he dodged left and dropped to the floor, where he swept her feet out from under her. Cursing him, she flipped to land back on her feet before she thrust at his outstretched arm. Stryker smiled in appreciation as he continued to press his attack. She feinted left, then right. He caught her blade with his and swung it high, out of her grasp.
She shoved him back, sank her teeth into his arm, then rolled on the ground so that she could scoop the hilt back into her hand and rise with the sword held at ready.
Stryker cursed as he covered the wound on his arm with his hand. "You bit me?"
"We use what we have." She came at him swinging.
"That's such a girl move," he said, disappointed that she'd used those tactics. "But it works. Maybe if you fought like a girl and not a stunted baboon, you'd actually win."
His arm throbbing, he caught her blow and pressed her to his left. Out of instinct, he lifted his hand to strike her face, then stopped. He would never lay hand to the mother of his child. Never lay hand to the woman he'd once loved more than his own life.
That hesitation cost him, as she jerked the sword free and laid open the skin on his shoulder. Hissing in pain, he staggered back. Like a true warrior, she pressed her advantage, slamming her sword against his over and over again.
The ferocity of her attack did more than just damage his injured arm. It cut him deep in his heart. "You really want me dead?"
"With every part of me."
Unwilling to concede that to her, he renewed his attack, sweeping his blade under hers and then wringing it from her hand. It arced up. Pushing her away, he yanked it from the air and then angled both blades at her throat. "Yield."
Her eyes flared with anger. "I hate you, you bastard!"
"And I've won in all fairness. Concede the fight."
She spat on the ground at his feet. "I'll abide by my word, but you will never win me back. Believe me, in two weeks I will slice open your throat, drink from your blood, and then pierce your heart and laugh while your body explodes into dust."
"Beautiful imagery. You should write for Hallmark." He used his powers to dissolve the swords. "I want you to know that I fought you fairly. Equal to equal. I could have used my powers against you, but I didn't."
She gave him extremely sarcastic applause. "Should I warm the oven and bake you a batch of hero cookies?"
He let out a long breath. "I have my work cut out for me where you're concerned, don't I?"
"Not really. Hate you today. Will hate you tomorrow. What say we don't waste any time? Give me the sword and let me have your throat now. You told me once that you'd die for me. How about you keep that one promise?"
He scoffed at her rancor. "Why keep one now after I've broken so many?"
That brought color to her cheeks as her eyes glistened with her rage. "Just as I thought. A liar and a coward. You'll never submit yourself to me in two weeks, will you?"
"This isn't about promises. It's a matter of honor. I've never sacrificed my honor for anyone."
"No, only your love," she sneered. "Tell me something, Strykerius. Was it worth it?"
That was always the one question in life, wasn't it? One of the priestesses who'd tended him when he was a child had once told him the biggest regrets were those that hadn't been done. And she was right. He wished he'd never left Zephyra.
His heart softened as he remembered the past. "I had ten beautiful children. Strong. Determined. And I loved every one of them. How could I ever regret that?"
"And your wife? What of her?"
She had been beautiful, too. Docile and quiet. Never questioning. A true lady of the ancient world. "She was dutiful and faithful. I would never besmirch the honor of or insult the mother of my children."
Her eyes flared an even darker shade. He'd struck her without meaning to.