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Summer

T he sun has just risen when I climb out of bed. My sleep was fitful and plagued by nightmares, and I feel more tired than when I went to bed last night. I get dressed, doing my best to keep my mind blank and focused in the moment, which only lasts until I am outside, and fear rushes over me again. My body remembers all too well the terror of last night. I hurry toward the gym, anticipating the moment that gaze will land on me again. It never comes, and I arrive at the gym without further drama.

I’m surprised to see Max sitting at the front desk. He has headphones on and appears to be studying from a large textbook. I ignore him, still pissed at him after yesterday. I walk straight to my favorite treadmill and start the machine, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of the run. Tension grips my shoulders, and I try to push past it, but peace never finds me. I give up after around ten minutes and switch to one of the punching bags.

“Still pissed?” Max asks, having finally noticed me.

Without looking at him, I flip him off before slamming my fist into the punching bag. I bristle as he enters my space, but he just walks around the bag and holds it from the other side, stabilizing it while I hit it.

“What exactly are you mad about?” he asks, an eyebrow quirked.

I continue to punch the heavy bag. “You’ve always been a bit of a dick, Max.” I slam my fist into the bag again, trying to hit it so hard that he will lose balance. “But I also thought you were fair, and yesterday, you weren’t fair.” I throw another punch, but Max just stands there, annoyingly stable. “I know people won’t play fair when I’m out in the wild. That is a lesson I learned long ago. I get it.” After another hard hit, my knuckles start to throb. “But yesterday was supposed to be just you and me training, and that jab was nothing but an asshole move because I’d pinned you.”

Max watches me for a long moment before replying. “You’ve excelled at fighting hand to hand, progressing very quickly. It was time to move you to the next level, which meant fighting dirty. Making moves you don’t expect.”

I slam my fist into the bag again, and my hand throbs in protest. “Not without telling me. That makes me lose all trust in you.”

“From one cheap shot? You did the same to me, if you recall. You only get pissed when it’s against you?”

I snarl. “I didn’t know what a cheap shot was when I did it.”

“Bullshit,” Max hisses.

I shake my head, stepping back from the punching bag.

“I’m never going to treat you like a fragile princess who needs to be protected. So stop fucking acting like one,” Max growls, his eyes flashing faintly with green. “You want to learn how to fight for real? To protect yourself and your friends? That’s what I’ll do for you.”

Anger ripples off me, but there is something in his words that hits right where they need to. I felt defenseless again last night, and I had to reach out to someone else for protection. Once again, I had to rely on someone else. I will not be the victim any longer.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Fine, whatever,” I grumble and turn on my heel, walking to the sparring room.

Max is hot on my heels, and his annoying presence is impossible to ignore. “What is it that really bothers you about the cheap shot?” he asks.

“Partly because you reacted so badly when I mistakenly did it to you the first time. I know you think I knew better, but I truly didn’t. I thought the goal was to get hits in.”

“The only reason I got pissed is because you revealed a hole in my control,” Max growls. “My kind is known for our killing rages. Why do you think I might get so upset that you triggered it?”

“And I was supposed to know that how? By osmosis?” I growl back.

Max rolls his eyes. “I will not spoon-feed you! I’m not your golden boy.” He practically spits the insult, and I clench my fists.

“Okay, enough. What’s your beef with Connor?” I ask, pissed.

Max rolls his shoulders. “Do you want to fight or what?” he asks.

“You brought it up. Come on, Maxxy. What’s the problem?” I ask, goading him while I stretch.

“Any day now,” Max says, getting into position and obviously avoiding my question.

I plunge into my fae speed and strength and launch at him, managing to slam my fist into his stomach.

Max hisses out a breath and grabs the back of my head. Pulling me toward him, he uses his knee to flip me over, throwing me to land hard on my back.

I groan at the impact but push off the ground. Max shifts to alter his balance, but I jump and kick him in the chest. He reaches out to grab my foot, but I slam my hand into his stomach, and he falls to the ground. I’m about to pin him when he slides his legs beneath mine. I lose my balance, falling on top of him.

“Fuck,” I groan as I roll off him.

Max glances at me, panting slightly. “You know, for someone who doesn’t normally fight dirty, that was pretty good.”

I roll my eyes but burst out laughing. Max snickers and shoves to his feet. He offers me his hand, and I pull myself up. I push him away and get back into position.

“Come at me,” Max says, ready for the attack.

I swing at him. Max blocks it easily, but I lean into my fae power and throw another punch. The second strike is so fast it makes the first seem like a decoy. Max takes the hit but uses the momentum to send his fist toward my exposed side. I just barely dodge it and manage to swing my foot around to kick him in the leg, but Max grabs my ankle. I sink into my instincts. As he applies pressure to my ankle, I jump and twist my body in the same direction. To keep the hold, Max has to twist his arm, putting pressure on his shoulder and elbow. He drops my foot, and I fall to the floor, slashing my feet beneath his. The ground shakes when his large, muscular body hits the ground. I climb on top of him, pinning him there with my hips and relishing in my victory. My chest heaves as I look down at him.

“You just love to straddle me, Tuatha De Daanan. People are going to get the wrong idea,” Max quips, panting.

I laugh, grabbing his arms and pinning them above his head. “What idea would that be? That maybe I’m better at fighting than the burly berserker?”

Max looks up at me and snorts. I grin down at him, feeling the endorphins flowing through me. But it’s not only that. I don’t feel completely defenseless. Though I’ve not learned anything new today, I was able to pin Max, which means I can at least put up a good fight if I am attacked. That is if I can remember the moves in a fight-or-flight situation.

The moment I release his arms, he grabs my waist and tosses me over his head. I yelp as I fly through the air and groan when I land hard on my back.

Max stands and brushes himself off. “As fun as this was, I have to get back to studying.”

“And I have a breakfast date,” I say, sitting up and stretching my back.

Max rolls his eyes. “Can’t be late for golden boy.”

“Oh, look, moments over, you’re still a dickhead.” I push to my feet and flip him off as I leave the gym.

On my way to Connor’s, I open my DM’s with the stranger.

His reply comes a moment later.

I stop in mid-step, staring down at the message. Rock? What rock?

The stranger sends a photo of a rock sitting in the grass. It looks fairly normal, even boring, until I zoom into the image. Carved into the stone is a message. Come out, come out, fae bitch . I swallow thickly, looking at the stone. That must have been what was thrown at Alice’s window last night.

Wait. On my desk?

Okay, someone is still very pissy. It probably wasn’t smart to mention the headmaster, but there is something so delightfully delicious about how he reacts to it. I think that might be skirting the boundaries…