The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon (Celine and Bastian) novel Chapter 76

Chapter 76

95 Volieters

As expected, Bastian was much harsher than the Victorius siblings. I practically did twice the routines Alaric would normally make me do.

I ran, jumped, stretched my muscles, hydrated several times, and finished with a short hand-to-hand combat lesson in which I ended up on the tnat more times than my pride would be willing to admit.

But whenever his hands held my waist, whenever his enormous body pressed against mine, or whenever his warm breath brushed my neck, right where he had left his mark… every trace of intelligence shut down inside my brain,

Goddess… why are you like this?

“I think that’s enough for today. We should head upstairs so you can take a shower.”

“Already tired?”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t get tired, and this doesn’t even come close to what I call a warm-up.” He hands me a clean towel and smiles. “But last night your body…”

I throw the towel, now damp, straight at his face, and a deep laugh fills the entire training room.

“I got it already.”

Bastian puts everything back in its place while I walk toward the wall where the weapons rest. One in particular catches my

attention.

It is a long, ancient, and dull sword. The dark steel lacks any shine, and the blade looks as though it has been forgotten for centuries, yet there is something about it that draws my gaze like a magnet. I move closer to inspect it and, call me crazy if you want, but I swear I hear a faint whisper that I cannot understand.

It’s as though it is speaking my name in an unknown language.

“So, you like swords, huh?”

Bastian hugs me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. He kisses my neck and nuzzles my skin affectionately, but I don’t respond.

I only want to take that sword in my hands.

“Whose sword is that?” I ask without taking my eyes off it.

Bastian lets out a small laugh that tickles my skin.

“I’m trying to spoil you and you’re replacing me with a boring sword?” he jokes. “It’s bigger than you are. Did you notice?”

“Bastian… she’s talking to me.”

My mate releases me and, when I turn my head slightly, I notice his brows furrowing.

“That sword has always been in this castle. We don’t know who owned it or where it came from. What I do know is that it’s called Erebus and that it’s heavy and difficult to wield. The other swords you see here are more comfortable and easier to handle. My father and I use them from time to time.”

“Erebus… I repeat softly, savoring the name. “Can you take it down from its stand for me?”

Bastian nods, still smiling.

The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon

“Remember that I warned you. You won’t even be able to lift it, it’s too heavy. Have you ever used a sword before?”

I nod and, for the first time, I feel proud of something I can truly boast about.

“My grandmother. She was a Beta warrior in her youth and had several swords that she taught me how to use. I’m not an expert, but I can do a few things with them.”

Bastian climbs onto a wooden bench, and I can tell how much effort he’s making to free it from its supports. Once he finally manages to hold it in his hands, the veins in his arms stand out beneath his skin and his muscles tense.

“It weighs like hell,” he complains.

With a jump, he climbs down from the bench, but the sword slips from his hands and the metallic crash against the floor echoes throughout the room. The sound is so loud and abrupt that a shiver runs down my spine and raises goosebumps across my skin. My mate growls under his breath and, using all his strength, lifts it again by the hilt. The tip of the blade leaves a deep mark on the stone floor while he struggles to keep it raised.

I walk until I am standing in front of it and can’t help smiling.

It’s beautiful.

The strange engravings running along the blade seem far too ancient and worn to be understood, yet they still possess a strange and disturbing beauty.

“You’re beautiful.” I barely brush my fingers over the blade and a shudder runs through my entire body.

“Are you sweet-talking a sword?” he teases while wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I think I’m jealous.

“That’s right. Do you really not hear anything?”

The whisper is still there, persistent.

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