Page 43

I Learn How to Fight Dirty

A nd I’m back down!

I did it. Made it to the top and back.

I turn to grin at Hecate and freeze in place. Khaosti is standing beside her. What’s he doing here? It’s fair to say that since the night Zayne shifted two days ago, we’ve done a fabulous job of avoiding one another. I know he’s been working with Zayne to help him get total control of his basilisk, but I haven’t been going to the training sessions. Right now, I don’t need complications. I have to concentrate on getting my memory back.

So far, it’s not happening.

The only time we see each other is at dinner each night, where he’s quiet and watchful… as if he’s trying to absorb as much information as possible. But then what? I’m very aware of what Zayne said about me looking at Khaosti, so I’ve been trying not to. Which is harder than you would think. My gaze is drawn to him whenever he’s in the same room.

Only last night, Zayne caught me staring and sniggered.

It’s not my fault; Khaosti is freaking gorgeous. And that’s all it is—physical attraction. And I’m a goddamned liar. The truth is that from the first moment I crashed into him, I’ve been drawn to Khaos. Bad idea. What had he said? A monumental mistake?

So the absolute last thing I’m going to do is act happy to see him. Just in case he thinks I’ve got a thumping great crush on him and that I’m not glad I managed to walk away the other night. God, it was hard. And it wasn’t the only hard thing that night. Khaos wanted me. That was probably why I got scared and backed off. Things moved way too fast.

“Is there something you need?” I ask. “Is Zayne okay?”

“Your boyfriend is fine.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I snap. “What are you doing here? We’re busy.”

“I asked him,” Hecate murmurs. “He’s agreed to teach you hand-to-hand combat. And give you some real sword practice.”

My mind goes blank and then starts racing. Hand to hand? Like touching? With Khaosti? I think we’ve already both decided that would not be a good idea at all . Just the thought is making me break out in a sweat. I’ve been doing my very best to pretty much ignore him, and now Hecate is suggesting we… what? Beat each other up. Though I suspect there wouldn’t be much beating involved on my side. He’s like a foot taller than me and probably a foot wider.

“Couldn’t you teach me?” I ask Hecate, my voice more than a little whiny.

“Scared?” Khaosti murmurs.

“Hah. Of you?” I sniff. “Never.” Liar, liar…

“I’m too old,” Hecate says, and I can hear the amusement in her voice, because she doesn’t look old at all anymore.

But why is she pushing us together now? From the first, she’s treated Khaosti with scorn. Now he’s supposed to be my sparring partner? And we’ll get all hot and sweaty and roll around on the ground and—

“I’ll leave you two to get to work,” Hecate says. “I have things to see to.”

And just like that, she’s gone, leaving me alone with a shape-shifting god who steals into my thoughts way more than I like to admit, even to myself. I even dreamed about him last night. My face goes warm just remembering that dream.

I can’t do this.

“Are you okay? You look a little hot.” Khaosti reaches out and touches my forehead with the back of his hand. “And bothered.”

I bat his hand away. “Keep your paws to yourself.”

“That might be a little difficult if you actually want to learn anything. Do you want me to teach you… things, Amber?”

I swallow. Now he’s flirting with me? What happened to monumental mistake? Or is it just my overactive imagination going into overdrive? I sort of hope so. Or not. Ugh—I’m so screwed.

“I want you to teach me how to beat the crap out of you,” I say. “Are you good enough to do that?”

“You’ll never beat me, little girl.”

I want to call him a condescending bastard—which he is—but I also suspect he’s right. I am little, and I’ll never be able to win a straight fight with Khaosti. Not a fair fight anyway. “Then teach me how to fight dirty.”

The corner of his mouth hitches at that, then the hint of a smile is gone, and his eyes darken. He steps forward, closing the space between us.

He’s so freaking tall. I’m staring straight at his chest. It’s wide, and the thin material of his shirt clings to his muscles.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” he murmurs. “Maybe you should leave.”

I sense a hint of menace in his tone. Does he mean leave this particular spot and him? Or does he mean leave this world? I have no clue.

I shuffle back. I’m not retreating, honest, but I can’t talk to his chest. I raise my head and look up into his chiseled face. His half-closed eyes stare down at me through a thick fringe of ebony lashes.

My heart is pounding, but even as fear courses through my veins, I can’t help but be drawn to him. There’s something about him that’s both terrifying and alluring at the same time. It’s like my sword, Nightfall; he calls to me on a level I never even knew existed. We’re connected in some fundamental way.

“Maybe you should be the one to leave,” I say. I think about adding ‘I was here first’, but maybe that’s a little childish.

He snorts. “If I had any sense, I would have been out of here days ago. But somehow, leaving no longer seems like an option.”

And what does that mean? He’s so freaking cryptic.

As I stand there, frozen in place, Khaosti steps closer to me again, allowing me to breathe in the exotic scent of him—spice, pine, and something unique that makes my senses swoon.

His golden eyes never leave mine as he reaches out and rests his hands on my bare shoulders. I can feel the warmth of his skin, which flows through my body, settling low in my belly, and I find myself leaning in to him. I forcibly hold myself still.

Is he going to kiss me?

Move!

But I don’t. I just stand there like some deranged person with a massive crush on the worst possible candidate for my affections. Then he moves, swiping my legs out from under me, and somehow I’m flat on my back, with him leaning over me, an arm across my throat, and I can’t breathe. He leans in closer so his hot breath whispers across my skin.

“First rule. Don’t get distracted.”

“Who said I was distracted?” I wheeze.

He chuckles—he’s such a comedian—and raises his arm; I gulp in air. Then he’s up, holding out a hand to me. I glare at it for a moment, then slip my palm into his, and he pulls me up. As soon as I’m on my feet, he sweeps my legs out from under me, and I’m on my back again.

“And never trust a helping hand,” he says, holding his hand out to me again.

I give the hand a filthy look, roll onto my hands and knees, and push myself up.

“You know,” he says, “according to Hecate, you were trained to fight hand-to-hand. You should be better than this.” He frowns. “And the night we met—I seem to remember you tried to fight me off.”

He’s right. But that night, I was acting on blind instinct. Now I search within myself, and nope, nothing. Maybe Nightfall triggered me to remember sword fighting. I need a trigger. But I’m coming up blank.

“Okay, so let’s pretend I’ve forgotten everything I ever knew,” I say. “Can you teach me how to put you there?” I wave a hand at the ground.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

For the next hour, he tries to teach me how to get him flat on his back. After the first few minutes, I forget my unfortunate attraction because I’m enjoying myself. And I really want to learn this stuff.

But he’s like a solid wall of rock. I can’t shift him.

I’m breathing hard from the exertion. I’ve done my best to distract him; I’ve pointed at things, looked up, looked down. I even considered flashing my boobs at him, but he’d probably not even blink.

“Enough,” I say, resting my hands on my thighs and breathing deeply. I’m sweaty, dirty, and disgruntled. Just once. Please God, just let me get the better of him once, and I can die happy.

What would piss him off enough to distract him? I have an idea. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I’ve tried everything else. I force my face into what I hope is a seductive smile, then I straighten and look past Khaosti. “Zayne,” I say, making my tone really excited. “How wonderful to see you.”

And Khaosti turns to look over his shoulder.

I forget about being subtle. Leaping forward, I grab his arms, twist my leg around his, and drag him to the ground. I don’t let go and end up sprawled on top of him. He’s as hard as he looks. Then his arms come around me, and I’m rolling, then underneath him, unable to breathe. He’s also as heavy as he looks. All solid muscle. He lifts his body off me and comes up on his elbows.

I grin up at him. “First rule,” I say. “Don’t get distracted.”

There’s a gleam in his golden eyes that I’m not sure I like. “Congratulations,” he murmurs. “That was a… surprise.”

“Rule number two—or is it three?—never underestimate your opponent.”

“Oh, I don’t underestimate you.”

I’m very aware of the closeness of his big body. I wriggle a little, and his nostrils flare like a wolf scenting dinner. My heart rate quadruples. “Are you going to get up?”

“Not just yet. I’m tired from all that exercise. I might just rest here a little while.” He stays up on his elbows, but his hips sink so he’s resting against mine—like he’s pleased to be there. Warmth seeps through my body, and I go completely still.

He stares down for an age, his eyes undecided as though he’s waging some internal battle. “Have you kissed anyone at all since the other night?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

“Good. Then this is not about you kissing anyone else. This is about you kissing me. Is that not what you asked for?”

I give a small nod.

Then he lowers his head, and he kisses me.

It’s slow, soft, intense, and it changes my world forever.

He raises his head. “You look like you’ve never been kissed.”

“I haven’t been kissed… much.” I frown. “Well, only Thanouq, then you, and Zayne the other night, but that doesn’t count.”

“I’m sure Zayne would be devastated to hear that.”

I ignore his sarcasm. “I mean, I might have kissed someone else, but I don’t remember.” I’m totally babbling. He’s looking skeptical. “Hey, my life has been a little weird. No time for kissing. And why did you kiss me anyway? Huge mistake—remember? And you don’t even like me.”

“Who said that? And what has liking got to do with it?” He looks down into my eyes, then shifts his hands so he’s cupping my face. “Shall I kiss you again?”

I don’t answer; I’m beyond words. But when he makes no further move, I force myself to nod again. Because right now, if he doesn’t kiss me again, I think I might die.

He lowers his head, licks my lower lip, and then nips it with his sharp teeth. My mouth opens, and his lips are on mine, hot and hard, and as his tongue pushes into my mouth, my body goes up in flames. Working on instinct, I stroke my tongue along his, and sensation floods my body. My skin prickles, and my nipples tighten… and who knew kissing could feel like this? He raises his head briefly, and I gulp in air, and then he’s kissing me again. My hands tangle in his silky hair. And I never want it to stop.

My body shifts restlessly beneath him. I need to get closer. I need more. More of what, I don’t know—well, I do, but I’m avoiding going there. I’m not ready to go there. But I’m also not ready to stop kissing him.

This time it’s Khaos who pulls away from the kiss. He pushes himself to his feet, his movements jerky, and I have to fight the urge to drag him back to me. He stares down for a long moment, his expression shell-shocked.

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Same time tomorrow,” he says, then turns and walks away.

What the fuck?

I don’t know how long I lie staring up at the sky.

Eventually, I hear footsteps. Is he back?

But when I turn my head, it’s Zayne approaching. He comes to a halt beside me, a disapproving expression on his face.