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"I did. I—I mean, I do." I answered, pulling myself together.
"Grab your knives and the pistol."
My brows pinched in confusion, but I obeyed wordlessly. Why would I need to be armed for hand-to-hand?
I trailed behind him as we ascended the stairs to the third floor, where the gym was. But instead of making a left at the top of the stairs, we turned right.
Ahren left me in the doorway, walking to the far wall and raising the shades one by one, flooding the cavernous room with natural light.
On my right was a wall, similar to the one in his room, with various weapons: knives, daggers, pistols, and a crossbow. I snorted as my eyes landed on a sword, because, of course, Ahren had a sword. My heart clenched, a deep ache settling into my chest when I found the scout mounted near the end of the wall.
My eyes snapped to his, finding him wearing a soft smile, so uncharacteristic of the cocky rival assassin I had known up till now.
He jammed his hands into his pocket and nodded.
"I can shoot it?" my fingers danced against my thighs. I missed my own tiny death machine, but shooting his would take the edge off.
"It's yours." His quiet reply seemed to echo through the room.
"I know how it feels to have a favorite weapon in hand. Your knives are great but injured. It's only natural you'd feel safer with your scout. I promise, when this is all over, we'll liberate yours. But I thought—"
"Thank you." I interrupted. "She's beautiful."
I lifted her gently, running my fingers along the smooth surfaces, committing every curve to memory.
"It suits you," he said, coming to stand next to me. "I had thought to convert you to a Dragunov like mine, but the shorter barrel length fits your smaller frame."
"I wouldn't give up my tiny death machine for anything."
We shared a laugh. The awkwardness I expected to linger from my idiotic rejection was, thankfully, absent.
"This is one of the places I use for target practice. Until Connor clears you for sparring, I thought you might feel more in control if you were keeping your skills sharp."
My eyes swept over the walls to our left and right, finally noticing the dozens of targets at various heights and angles. Perfect to practice with any of the weapons here.
"You will need this," he murmured.
His fingers brushed against mine as he dropped the foam ear plugs into my hand, then lingered a beat longer than necessary as he passed me a pair of earmuffs.
"Thanks." I swallowed hard, giving my head a hard shake, trying to rid myself of the indecent thoughts that flashed behind my eyes.
He turned me around and stepped up behind me. His heated breath ghosted across my exposed skin, sending pulses of pure fire racing through my veins.
"What's your favorite position?" he asked, his smooth velvety voice taking on a gravelly tone as if the close proximity affected him too.
"Excuse me." I all but stuttered. My head snapped up and met his gaze.
An amused smirk played on his lips. "For shooting, I mean."
"Oh," I turned away, hoping to hide my flaming cheeks, "Prone." I murmuredsoftly.
"Mmm." he hummed in agreement, the deep sound rumbling in his chest. "That’s one of my favorites, too. "
His hand pressed lightly against the small of my back, urging me forward.
"See these grips on the wall?"
I nodded, still too affected to speak.