Chapter 78

"Allow me to demonstrate?" Nathaniel asked, stepping around me with effortless grace. He strode toward the archery set, slinging the quiver over his shoulder with practiced ease. Plucking an arrow from it, he scooped up the bow from the ground and positioned himself before the target—close enough that I nearly scoffed.

With a fluid motion, he nocked the arrow, drew back the string, and released.

Thunk.

Bullseye.

I opened my mouth to tease him—anyone could hit a target from that distance—but then he stepped back, increasing the gap between himself and the mark. Another arrow flew, splitting the first one clean down the middle.

My breath caught.

He didn’t stop. Step by step, he retreated farther, each new arrow shattering the one before it with impossible precision. By the time he reached the far end of the field, he was little more than a distant silhouette against the horizon. Victoria squinted beside me, struggling to make him out.

Then—crack!

The final arrow struck with such force that the target itself splintered apart, collapsing into the grass.

Silence.

Then—Oliver erupted into cheers. "That was insane! How did you do that?"

Nathaniel jogged back toward us, his golden curls tousled by the wind, his shirt long discarded. Sunlight glinted off his toned torso, and though he had just sprinted across the field, he wasn’t even winded.

"Years of practice," he said, ruffling Oliver’s hair. "I could teach you, if you’d like."

"Yes!" Oliver nearly vibrated with excitement.

I crossed my arms, tilting my head. "Impressive," I admitted, though I kept my tone light. "But you do owe us a new set of arrows."

Nathaniel grinned, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number, pressed it to his ear, and issued a single command: "Get me the finest bow and arrow set available. Deliver it to my uncle’s villa."

He hung up without waiting for a response.

"You do have connections," I mused, eyeing him.

"I never pretend to be anything I’m not," he said, voice low.

I smirked. "Care to show off any other skills?"

Was I flirting with him? The realization startled me. I didn’t flirt—not really. Not with anyone except Donovan, and even that had been more necessity than desire. With Nathaniel, though, it felt like a game. Easy. Fun.

But it didn’t make my pulse race. Not like he did.

Nathaniel’s grin turned wolfish. "I do have a few defensive moves I could demonstrate."

"By all means," I said, gesturing for him to proceed.

In a blur of motion, he seized my arm, spun me around, and pinned me to the ground before I could react. His body pressed against my back, his legs trapping mine. Victoria gasped, clutching Donovan’s wrist as they watched.

"I guess you know a thing or two," I conceded, breathless.

Then—I twisted.

A sharp kick knocked him off balance, and in an instant, I reversed our positions, straddling him with a triumphant grin. "But so do I."

His hands settled on my hips, fingers flexing—

A furious snarl ripped through the air.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?!"

I scrambled off Nathaniel so fast I nearly face-planted into the dirt. Whirling around, I found him—Sebastian—storming toward us, his expression thunderous.

"Get your hands off her!" he roared.