Page 10

T EN C AMILLE

My breath catches, but I manage to shove away from him and pull my wrist free of his grasp. “Why are you doing this?” I demand, my hands shaking at my sides until I tighten them into fists. I keep my eyes locked on the king of hell to be, waiting for him to answer my question.

He looks the same, but different. Power emanates from him like a warning. It’s impossible to ignore and even more impossible to escape. He’s dressed uncharacteristically formal—besides the leather jacket—in a navy button-up, black slacks and dress shoes, with his hair tousled stylishly. His chiseled features are sharper but his eyes…they’re the same deep, warm brown ones I fell for.

He shrugs. Fucking shrugs , as if this means nothing to him.

Maybe it doesn’t.

I open my mouth, but whatever I was going to say vanishes. I regret wanting to see him, and I sure as hell resent missing him. I lick the dryness from my lips, meeting his darkening gaze, and whisper, “Where did you go?”

Xander shakes his head, arching a brow at me before he says, “You’re the one who left.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I bite the inside of my cheek, struggling to continue looking at him. “I don’t know who you are anymore. You…you’re a stranger.”

“Good.” His voice is harder now. Cold. “A stranger to you is exactly what I need to be.”

Pulling free of his grasp, I shoot back, “To be king?”

Xander hesitates before nodding.

This emotional back and forth is giving me whiplash. It’s clear in his tone and the expressions he’s failing to hide that I’m not the only one struggling. I just want it to end. If distancing himself from the parts I fell in love with is what he needs to do in order to succeed in the trials, fine. But I can’t be part of it.

“Fine,” I say in a resigned tone, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I close my eyes, focusing on breathing steadily, willing myself to wake up. I doubt it’ll work, but I have to try.

There’s a soft brush of knuckles against my cheek before I’m overcome by the sensation of the floor disappearing from under me. Instead of fear flooding through me, I’m filled with relief, and I fall willingly.

Waking with a start, I sit up in bed, looking around my bedroom. Grounding myself. My heart is still racing, and I reach around blindly until I find the lamp beside my bed, switching it on and grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand, chugging it to soothe the fire in my throat. I set the empty glass down and run my fingers through my hair, taking deep breaths until my pulse returns to a normal rhythm.

I check the time on my phone with a sigh. It’s just after one in the morning. Adjusting my pillow, I curl onto my side and attempt to get comfortable again.

Sleep evades me as I turn over the dreamscape conversation with Xander. I’m left feeling betrayed all over again, but knowing what he gave up so I would live has also planted a seed of guilt in my chest.

I would’ve felt better if he’d been angry and blamed me. His blatant indifference to the outcome of killing Lucia—his newfound motivation to pass the ascension trials and take the throne—makes me regret putting my faith in him on a whole other level.

I was blinded by my feelings for him. They tricked my gut into believing he could be trusted.

And I let it happen.

I can’t trust Xander.

I can’t even trust myself.

So where does that leave me?

After a restless night, I struggle to get out of bed and get ready in time to meet Noah in the parking garage. Of course, there’s also the matter of that kiss we shared in the apartment gym two days ago. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since, and I have no idea how to broach the subject. Or if I even should.

“Are you ready to tackle a group class today?”

So, I guess we’re not going to talk about it .

“Sure,” I say automatically despite the way my stomach dips and my pulse ticks faster. I’d much rather have another private class with Noah but I can’t keep putting this off. I need to train with other novices, and the sooner I start the easier it’ll be.

“What’s with you this morning?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

I sigh. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“Oh? Is there something you want to talk about?”

“Not with you,” I say without missing a beat.

He sucks air through his teeth. “Ouch, Cam. You wound me so deeply.”

Heat floods my face. “No, that isn’t—I only meant—”

“Relax,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m messing with you. I get it. We’re not exactly friends, and I’m sure you have plenty you’d rather talk to, which is fine.”

“Just Harper, really,”

He nods. “Have you spoken to her much since you got here?”

“Uh, well, I called her the other night. After, um, you know.”

“Do I?” he asks. “I think you need to refresh my memory.”

“Can you not be an ass about this? Please?” I feel the weight of his gaze as he glances over at me, though I don’t meet it. I keep my eyes trained forward, watching the skyscrapers turn into shorter, more industrial buildings spaced further apart.

“Sorry.” His attention returns to the road. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.”

“Really?” The relief in my voice is almost embarrassing.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you think it would be better to forget it happened then we will. Is that what you want?”

My throat suddenly feels tight, and I press my lips together as I consider how to respond. Aside from the initial comment, Noah is being incredibly considerate about the whole thing. “Honestly, I don’t know. I wasn’t in a good headspace that night and I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Noah nods. “I understand. So we leave it in the past and focus on your training. Sound good?”

“I don’t…” I trail off, fumbling for the right words. “How are you being so reasonable about this?”

He turns onto the private road leading to Ballard. “It’s simple. Your success here is more important than how I might feel about our kiss.”

My eyes widen. How he feels? “I’m not sure what to say.”

“I guess there’s a first for everything,” he teases.

Same old Noah.

I scowl halfheartedly, though his quip does make me feel a bit better. “Ha-ha. So funny.” Letting loose a breath, my tone is sincere when I say, “Thank you.”

“You bet.” He drums his thumbs against the steering wheel.

The rest of the drive to Ballard is quiet. We go through the security checkpoint, and Noah waves to the guard at the gate and drives through as it opens.

After we park in Noah’s spot, instead of going into the private training room, he guides us into the main building through the front entrance.

This place was custom built by the organization to be a training facility, so we’re met with a security checkpoint the minute we walk through sliding doors. Noah flashes his badge at the hunter behind the desk.

We walk through a set of metal detectors, and Noah swipes his badge at another door. There’s a buzzing sound, and then it slides open, granting us access deeper into the building.

I follow Noah, my pulse ticking unevenly as my eyes dart around. There’s not much to see past the plain gray walls and shiny linoleum floors. It doesn’t smell like anything—not like a gym or an office building. I get the occasional whiff of Noah’s cologne, and weirdly, it brings me a bit of comfort, though I have little energy to explore that.

The training facility I started at in Seattle was much smaller than this. The time I spent there was in classes on one side of the facility. I never made it to the physical portion of hunter training, which is precisely why it’s going to kick my ass now.

We come to a fork in the hallway, and I follow Noah down another corridor. There are solid black metal doors on either side with placards on each—offices, I think—and past them is yet another door.

Noah taps his badge against the panel beside it, and the door slides open, revealing a room that looks like what we trained in before, but easily three times the size.

Cardio machines and weight racks line the perimeter of the room, leaving the middle a wide-open space with mats. Small groups of people mingle around the space, while a few others are warming up on the treadmills and stationary bikes. There’s a section of hooks in the wall adjacent to the doors, so I hang up my jacket and bag, then head over to the treadmill at the end of the row to warm up.

Nerves coil tightly in my stomach as I feel the weight of eyes on me, and I try to ignore them and focus on the display screen of the treadmill as I increase the speed to a light jog. I knew my first group class would be a challenge for my anxiety, and I cling to knowing it’ll only be an hour as if it’s a life raft.

Noah walks around the room and says good morning to the trainees before jumping on one of the bikes himself. Part of me wants to glance around the room, but my apprehension gets the best of me and I keep my eyes forward until I finish my warm-up.

When Noah calls everyone to the center of the room, I keep my eyes on him, afraid the other trainees are going to judge me for being here. I shouldn’t assume they know who I am, but I’ve gotten so used to being the black sheep of the Morgan family. The well-known disappointment within the organization.

And that was all before I got involved with Xander.

Noah drones on about the importance of always being aware of your surroundings, and I look away from him as he moves on to talk about stretching after a training session.

It’s a repeat of what he told me during our first private session, and the importance of the reminder isn’t lost on me.

I finally get the nerve to glance around at the other class members while their attention is glued to Noah. There’s a good mix of guys and girls, and a lot of them appear younger than me, which makes sense considering this is basic hunter training. There are close to two dozen trainees, and they’re listening so intensely to Noah, I have to press my lips together to keep from snickering. He must love this gig. All of these people looking at him with such awe and respect. It’s a buffet for his ego.

Noah crosses the room and grabs a black bin off a shelf I hadn’t noticed before, carrying it back to the center of the room and dropping it with a loud thud. The obsidian daggers inside have the class shifting, either nervously or excitedly, on their feet.

“Everybody take a dagger,” Noah says in a level voice.

“Are we going to learn how to fight with one today?” one girl asks.

Noah laughs. “You’re lucky I’m letting you touch it today. So no. But I do want you to know how it feels. The weight of it in your palm.”

Once each person has a dagger in their grip, I step forward. Noah plucks one out of the box and holds it out to me, hilt first. “Just like riding a bike,” he says under his breath so only I can hear.

My lips twitch as I take the dagger. “Right.” I step back and wait for further instruction with the rest of the trainees. I catch one of their gazes and am rewarded with a spectacularly dirty look before I glance away from the girl. Evidently my concern about ruffling feathers by being here wasn’t entirely unwarranted. Super .

I try to distract myself by passing the dagger from hand to hand before holding it in my dominant one, curling my fingers around the hilt. The metal is cool against my skin, and I frown at how normal such a lethal thing can feel in my grip.

It isn’t unbelievably heavy, which makes the weapons easier to transport and secure to different limbs. Most hunters are inclined to strap them to the outside of their thigh just above the knee where they can easily grab it out of its sheath. I’ve also seen some hide others at their ankles or waist or between their breasts.

I don’t want to be the type of person who has a dagger strapped to every inch of me. One has to be sufficient—two max.

Noah gives the class a few minutes to converse over the wonder that he just bestowed upon them before he kicks the box and says, “Good. Now put them back.”

“What was the point of that?” a guy to Noah’s left grumbles, dropping his dagger back into the bin.

“I want you to be familiar and comfortable with them when you’re prepared to wield them.”

“When are we going to be ready?” someone else asks.

Fuck, these trainees are eager .

Whereas the idea of actually having to use the dagger in my grip threatens to shoot anxiety through my veins like wildfire. It brings me back to the night Xander and I were attacked. I had no choice but to use his dagger and kill that demon. Even now that I know it was a twisted way for Xander to steal my trust, I still hate thinking about the fact that I took a life.

That demon would’ve done the same to you .

I swallow hard, willing the memory to fade as I return the dagger to the box.

Noah spends the next hour going through several techniques to block attacks, walking through each step and picking a different person to use as an example. Most are thrilled to jump into practice, while I stand off to the side, paying close attention to the movements and how each person who goes up against Noah doesn’t stand a chance. When his eyes shift to me and the corner of his mouth kicks up, my stomach dips.

No. Please—

“You’re up, Cam.”

“Uh, I’m more of an observational learner.”

His brows lift. “That wasn’t a suggestion. Get over here. Unless, of course, you’d like to continue wasting our time.”

My eyes narrow as heat fills my cheeks, and I bite my tongue to keep from cursing him out as I trudge forward, feeling too many sets of eyes on me.

“Ready?” he asks, any trace of amusement gone from his expression.

“Sure,” I deadpan.

Between one breath and the next, Noah moves swiftly, putting himself behind me as he locks an arm around my neck and the other around my waist, effectively immobilizing me. I’m trapped against his chest, and he drops his chin to the top of my head.

“What do your instincts tell you to do at this moment?” he asks loudly enough for the class to hear.

“Scream,” I offer plainly, “but I know that’s useless.”

Noah makes no move to let me go. “Your instincts can be clouded by emotion, including fear.” His grip tightens, and I suck in a breath, unable to ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach. “Which is why we drill this training into you,” he continues, “so you don’t have to think. You’ll act without hesitation and, ideally, avoid a situation like this.”

“I get that,” a girl with bright red hair speaks up, then asks, “But what would you do if you ended up in this situation?” She’s wearing a matching soft blue workout set, which stands out against the sea of black outfits around her. I like her already.

Noah’s responding chuckle vibrates against my back, and I press my lips together, cursing this stupid exercise. “I wouldn’t be in this situation.”

I roll my eyes, trying to pull away instantly.

“Nope,” he murmurs, “we’re not done yet.” He clears his throat, speaking to the class again. “If Camille had a dagger, she would do her damn best to get her hand around it and stab wherever she could until I let go.”

He finally does, and I immediately take a huge step away from him, my chest rising and falling faster than it should.

“The very moment you get free, you need to attack. Don’t give them a second chance to capture you.”

Without thinking, I strike out with my fist. There’s a fleeting moment where I think I’m going to get a shot on him, but he dodges at the last second, his gaze sharp, focused.

“Plant your feet wider apart,” he instructs, his eyes locked on me as if we’re the only people in the room.

I adjust my stance and throw a punch before he can bark another order at me. This time I aim lower, my fist connecting with his ribs, and am met with a satisfying grunt. Pain flares across my knuckles, but it’s worth it for the impressed look stealing over Noah’s features.

My god, it’s as if I’m fifteen all over again.

I shouldn’t give two shits about impressing Noah, and yet…

Whirling away from him, I blurt, “Who’s next?”

Without waiting for a response, I return to where I was standing before getting called on.

Try as I might, I can’t shake the weird bubbly sensation in my chest. And every time Noah’s eyes land on me over the next hour, I look away. It’s ridiculous, and I want to kick myself every time it happens.

“Take a five-minute break. When you come back, pair up.”

I make a quick trip to the bathroom and gulp down half my water bottle, catching eyes with the redhead I noticed earlier. I try for a friendly smile, and relief floods through me when she returns it and approaches.

“Hey, I’m Sierra. You’re Camille, right?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” she offers, propping her hands on her hips. “Partners?”

I laugh softly, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“I haven’t seen you here before,” she comments as we wait for the rest of the class to pair up.

“Uh, yeah.” I panic over how much to say and land on, “I left the academy for a while and I’m just coming back to it.”

Her brows lift. “Why’d you leave?”

She doesn’t know?

I glance around the room. Maybe these trainees are too young to recognize who I am. Frankly, that would be ideal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry or anything. I was just curious. You can absolutely tell me to get lost.”

My gaze flits back to Sierra. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just not used to people being involved with the organization not already knowing.” I lick the dryness from my lips. “My sister was killed by a demon a little over five years ago. I left after that.”

She frowns, her arms falling to her sides. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” The sympathy in her gaze makes my chest tighten, but I manage a nod and a faint smile.

“How did you get involved with the hunters?” I ask, desperate to shift the focus of our conversation to her.

“Family legacy,” she offers.

“I understand that.”

She nods. “Are your parents hunters as well?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” I stumble through my response. I’m used to everyone around the training facilities knowing who Rachel and Scott Morgan are. “They sort of run this place. Well, my dad does. My mom runs HQ in Seattle.”

Sierra’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. That’s…wow. I can only imagine the pressure you feel being here.”

“Yeah, just a little.” I fight the urge to throw my arms around her, because that’s probably a little weird for a girl I just met, but the relief singing in my veins makes me want to hug her. I was expecting everyone here to know who I am and immediately hate me, so finding someone who doesn’t feels special.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?” I offer hesitantly.

Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “I get the feeling you’ve known Noah a while?”

I nod. “He was ahead of me the first time I was enrolled in training, and now he’s sort of mentoring me. He also works pretty closely with my parents, so I’ve always had to deal with him in some capacity.”

“Makes sense. I’ve just never seen him act like he did with you today.”

I arch a brow, that odd fluttering returning to my stomach. “What do you mean?”

Sierra purses her lips. “I don’t know. It’s like he can’t decide if he loves or hates you.”

I almost laugh, though I’m still conflicted about the conversation Noah and I had on the drive here. “I think it probably depends on the day.”

Her lips twist into a grin. “Fair enough. Anyway, are you nervous about the novice assessment next week?”

I blink at her, shaking my head. “The what?”

She cringes. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I just assumed you already knew. We are tested monthly at this level. If you fail more than one, you’re out of the training program.”

“What kind of test?” I ask, wiping my palms on my thighs as I lick the sudden dryness from my lips. I’m torn between my nerves and being pissed at Noah for not telling me about this during our first training session a few days ago.

“It’s a physical exercise to test our strength, focus, and retention of the lessons we’ve learned here. They’re basically like high school midterms and finals, but hands-on.”

“Have you gone through them before?”

Sierra nods. “A few times. I always stress majorly and don’t sleep the night before, but luckily, I’ve passed every time.”

I nod along. “That’s good.”

She smiles and pats my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’re a hunter prodigy and working with Noah? I’m sure you’re going to make the rest of us look bad.”

I manage to fake a short laugh as Noah calls the class back into session. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”