Mated To Valentine
I dodge, just as a fist slices past me.
Achilles hums approvingly. “Better.”
I steady myself. My heart pounds, but this time, I don’t let it control me.
Another shift—right. I duck.
I don’t think. I react.
My fist flies forward, and I feel it—a solid connection. A grunt.
I hit him.
I rip the blindfold off, breathless, my pulse roaring in my ears. Achilles is rubbing his chest where my punch landed, his lips curling into an amused smirk.