Page 23

S weat glistens on my skin as I pant, the stale air of the training room thick with exertion. Arius sweeps my feet out from under me with a deft kick, and I grunt as my back slams against the mat.

Fucking hell, he’s in a right foul mood today.

I stare up at the arched ceiling as I catch my breath, the rasp of velcro filling my ears as Arius peels off his fingerless gloves. His chest heaves with laboured breaths as he leans into view, silhouetted by the harsh overhead lights as he offers a hand to help me up.

With a weary sigh, I grab his calloused palm and let the wiry git haul me back onto my feet. I wipe my forearm across my brow, swiping away the sheen of perspiration there. “If you keep going at a hundred and ten percent, you may as well train with one of the bloody Enforcers,” I growl, nodding towards the hulking brute standing guard by the ropes. “I’m not going to be your punching bag.”

Arius pants, eyes glinting as he drops his gloves to the mat beside the ropes, snatching up his water bottle to upend it over his face. Rivulets of water cascade through his tousled raven locks, sluicing over carved cheekbones and the strong column of his throat. He swipes a hand over his dripping features and shakes his head like a wolf shedding its coat.

“Getting soft on me, ?” he rumbles, capping the empty bottle before lobbing it back towards the waiting Enforcer.

I sneer, grabbing my own bottle to unscrew the cap and chug down a few greedy gulps. The cool liquid soothes my raw, parched throat as I swallow. “You know damn well I’m not getting soft,” I rasp, eyeing him over the mouth of the plastic container. “But what the fuck’s gotten under your skin today? You’ve been prowling around like a feral mutt someone kicked one too many times. You damn near bit Professor Mancuso’s head today.”

Arius shakes his head again, snatching up his abandoned gloves to yank them back over his knuckles. “Just fucking Hansley and her goddamn power trips,” he growls, pacing towards the center of the ring without meeting my gaze. “It’s nothing.”

I hand the empty bottle back to the burly Enforcer with a curt nod before adjusting my own padded gloves. The perspiration sticking to every inch of skin is uncomfortable yet familiar—a consequence of pushing one’s body to its absolute limits day after gruelling day. “You put yourself in those fucking situations, though,” I remind Arius, trailing after him into the center of the ring. “You know that.”

Squaring my stance across from him, I raise my gloved hands in a defensive guard, biceps flexing. Protect the face—Arius never fights fair. “How the fuck am I supposed to ignore summons?” he growls, eyes glinting with pent-up aggression as he mirrors my stance. “Isn’t like I have a goddamn choice.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before striking, padded knuckles glancing off my upraised forearm as I deflect the first blow. Capitalising on the brief opening, I use my longer reach to jab him square in the ribs, making him grunt.

“You always have a choice, mate,” I counter through gritted teeth, ducking under a wild haymaker as Arius retaliates. His follow-up jab connects solidly with my jaw, making my teeth clack together as I ride out the impact. Shaking it off with a grunt, “You just choose the hard way every bloody time.”

Arius snarls, frustration etched into the harsh lines of his face. “The choices are shite on the best of days,” he bites out, leaving an opening that I instantly capitalise on.

Feinting towards his ribs again, I catch him protecting that side as expected. Instead, I pivot tactics and snap my gloved fist up towards his exposed jaw. My knuckles connect with a sickening thud, whipping Arius’ head to the side from the force of the blow. He staggers back a couple paces, shaking off the impact like a bull briefly stunned.

“We’re not strangers to making our own choices when we don’t like the ones presented,” I press, keeping my hands raised defensively as we circle one another. “So what fucking gives this time?”

Arius swallows thickly, licking his lips as his eyes stay trained on me, searching for weaknesses to exploit. I can practically see the calculations whirring behind that inscrutable mask as he plots his next move.

“I would love to forge my own path out of this rat-maze,” he finally grunts. “But we both know I can’t do that. Not with all our bloody Ascensions hanging in the balance, you know damn well we can’t become Sentinels if we don’t Ascend.”

We trade testing strikes, gloved fists clashing in an almost casual exchange as Arius probes for openings in my defences. I manage to deflect most of the blows, but one well-timed strike catches me on the hip, just enough to throw off my balance fractionally.

That split-second lapse is all the opening Arius needs. He surges in with ruthless precision, muscular arms snapping around my midsection in a vice-like grapple. We both grunt with exertion, thrashing against one another’s holds until our tangled forms slam down onto the mat in a sweaty heap.

Before I can fully regain my bearings, Arius wriggles behind me, those powerful thighs clamping around my hips like a constrictor snake as one forearm cinches tight across my throat in a rear naked choke. The pressure on my windpipe is immediate and unforgiving, forcing a strangled groan from my lips.

Instinct takes over as I claw blindly at his face, fingers searching for vulnerabilities. Finally, I manage to hook my thumb into the hinge of his jaw, wrenching his head viciously to one side. Arius bears down harder, cutting off what little air I can suck in, but I refuse to relent. I keep up the pressure until, with a guttural growl, his chokehold is forced to slacken just enough for me to gasp in a desperate breath.

We pant harshly in the sudden stillness, the only sounds being our ragged respirations and the dull thud of fists striking pads. Even ensnared in this compromising position, I can’t help the slight upward quirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Releasing the pressure on Arius’ jaw, I drop my hand to tap his forearm, signalling for a stop. He exhales a guttural grunt as his chokehold finally slackens, muscular legs uncoiling to let me roll off and kneel beside his sprawled form.

Sweat glistens over every exposed inch of Arius’ carved torso, chiselled abs rising and falling rapidly with each laboured inhalation. I sit back on my haunches, resting my hands on my thighs as I finally regain my breath. Sniffing harshly, I blink away the tears stinging my eyes from the blood rushing to my face during that brutal exchange.

“Fucking hell,” I curse under my breath, shaking my head in a vain attempt to clear the dull throbbing pounding at my temples.

Arius doesn’t respond, gaze trained unseeingly on the arched ceiling above while he lies unmoving on the mat. The subtle twitch in his squared jaw betrays the turmoil roiling beneath that impenetrable facade, emotions he’s never permitted himself to confront head-on.

With a weary sigh, I rake my fingers through sweat-damp locks, pushing the unruly strands back from my brow. “You need to get a fucking grip on this shite, Arius,” I mutter, glancing towards his impassive profile. “Figure yourself out, yeah? Let someone in to help with whatever storm’s brewing in that thick skull before it consumes you completely.”

There’s a weighted pause before Arius finally rolls his head to meet my stare, all sharp planes and callous detachment. His lips part with a ghost of that trademark smirk curling one corner, though the humour fails to reach those turbulent eyes. “There isn’t anybody who can help with these… issues, .”

I scoff at his dismissal, fingers finding the velcro straps to unhook my padded gloves so I can toss them aside. The abrasive material rasps against itself as I slowly peel each one off. “Maybe not,” I concede, studiously avoiding his scrutiny as I add the discarded gloves to the mat. “But at least you wouldn’t be so bloody alone then, would you?”

Arius regards me contemplatively for a protracted beat before that low, rumbling chuckle reverberates from his chest. There’s no mirth in the sound—just hollow resignation. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’s even worth the fucking effort anymore.”

I pause at that, fingers stilling their absent fidgeting to glance back at him sharply. Arius’ faraway gaze has returned to the rafters overhead, not a hint of levity to be found amidst the harsh contours of his expression. With a frown furrowing my brow, I cast about for a response, tongue darting out to moisten my lower lip.

In the end, all I can manage is a helpless shrug, arms falling slack at my sides. “We don’t know anything else, mate,” I remind him, tone low and guarded. “The type of people we are… we don’t belong out there in normal society. You know that as well as I do.”

Arius’ jaw tightens fractionally, those quicksilver irises clouding over. He makes no attempt to refute the claim, simply allowing the weighted silence to stretch between us.

Heaving an aggrieved exhale, I rake my fingers through my dishevelled hair again, stalling for time before I finally find the words. “Look, I’m saying there’s nothing wrong with seeking help from someone removed. Christ knows how many bloody shrinks and counsellors the Purefires employ for their Sentinels—”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Arius immediately rebuffs with a humorless bark of laughter, finally rolling up onto his elbows to pin me with that piercing stare. “I’m not about to start pouring my blackened soul out to the Council’s own personal ears, . Those self-righteous cunts would run tattling to the Purefires, and then straight to the Elders, with everything I divulged before the end of our first session.”

I can’t quite suppress the eyeroll his obstinance provokes. “You’re a right fucking misery sometimes, you know that?” I can’t resist the jibe as I regard him flatly.

Rather than taking offence, Arius merely flashes that infuriatingly smug grin I’ve seen disarm so many foes into a false sense of security over the years. “Aye, but you lads would miss me if I ever disappeared.”

The sheer arrogance of the statement startles a low chuckle from somewhere deep in my chest. “Can’t argue that one, ya wanker,” I admit with an indulgent shake of my head.

As if to emphasise the point, a low grumble suddenly reverberates through the chamber just then—the unmistakable gurgle of Arius’ stomach reminding us how long we’ve been in here battering each other senseless. He grimaces with a rueful glance down at the sculpted ridges of his abdomen before tossing me a pointed look. “Grub?”

I nod curtly in response to Arius’ inquiry, letting out a heavy exhale as I stretch my aching limbs. “Some carbs wouldn’t go amiss right about now,” I admit, rolling my shoulders to work out the lingering tension knotting the muscles there.

Arius grunts his assent, rising fluidly to his feet without bothering to use his hands for leverage. With a deft flick of his wrist, he snags a towel draped over the ropes and scrubs it over his sweat-slicked face. “Get on the app and order us up something hearty, then,” he rumbles, voice slightly muffled by the terrycloth. Pulling the towel away, he pins me with that enigmatic stare. “We can go back to the dorms and get cleaned up while we wait for the room service cunts to do their jobs.”

“Fair play,” I acknowledge with another nod, leveraging myself up onto my feet with a slight wince. Christ, I’m going to be feeling the brunt of that beatdown come morning. My gaze drifts over the sheen of perspiration glistening on Arius’ carved torso, drinking in the sight of those sculpted abdominals rising and falling with each laboured breath. Physically, the wanker’s an absolute fucking Adonis—if you’ve got a penchant for tall, brooding blokes carved from bloody granite.

The way his ink just seems to roll over every ridge and hollow from neck to abdomen is arresting, would make anybody stop and at least pause. The realistic eye drawn over his Adam’s apple draws the gaze, staring back at you in silent judgement as it sits nestled amongst filigree and thorns, tendrils winding up and around to his nape like a noose. And the way those lines of black and grey seem to turn fluid as they travel down to his navel…

Refusing to dwell on that rabbit hole, I clear my throat brusquely and turn away to retrieve my duffel from beside the ring. Arius stoops to gather his own discarded gear, back muscles flexing in an alluring display beneath sun-bronzed skin as he straightens.

“C’mon, prick,” I grunt over one shoulder, squaring my shoulders before stalking towards the exit without waiting for his reply. “Let’s get out of this fucking hellhole before I decide to pummel your smug face into the canvas.”