Page 6

S IX C AMILLE

A few days later, with two nearly bursting suitcases in tow, my mom and Harper dropped me off at the departure doors, and I boarded an early-morning flight to JFK.

Had it been up to me, I would have fled Seattle the moment Dad suggested going to New York, but that would mean explaining why. Telling my parents—or at the very least Harper—that I saw Xander isn’t a door I want to open.

I never pictured myself living in New York City, but putting some distance between me and Seattle will be good. I have no delusions that the move will solve anything, but I hope it’s a step in the right direction.

There’s also the added bonus of having my housing expenses covered, though it would be a much sweeter deal if it hadn’t included the stipulation of moving into Noah’s building for my protection . I guess I should just be grateful they didn’t make me move into his apartment.

Living in the same building makes it far too easy for him to show up at my door before sunrise, and I curse him out for the ungodly hour as I flip the lock and let him in the second morning I’ve woken up in my new place. At least he wasn’t waiting for me when I arrived with my suitcases. He gave me a couple days to settle in.

Today is my first training session. Noah texted me last night and offered to drive me to Ballard Academy this morning. I accepted for the sole reason that if I didn’t go with him, there’s a very good chance I would succumb to the anxiety swirling in my gut and bail.

“You could at least fake being happy to see me,” he says with a smirk as he closes the door behind him, leaning against it.

I squint at him, sleep still clinging to my muscles as I stifle a yawn. “I have never been and will never be a morning person. You’re lucky you have me vertical right now. My bed was extra cozy this morning.”

He pushes away from the door, coming closer. “If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d make a joke about getting you horizontal.”

Heat blossoms in my cheeks as I stare at him.

Did he seriously just say that?

Noah chuckles. “Relax, Cam. I’m only messing with you.” He lowers his voice. “You make it so easy.”

I shift back a step, rolling my eyes and grumbling, “It’s too early for this.” Not that any time is ideal for Noah’s blatant arrogance and generally annoying personality.

He gives me a once-over. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Glancing down at my dark gray hoodie and black joggers, I shrug. “Something wrong?”

“I guess it’s fine.”

I shoot him a look. “What is it, Noah?”

He rubs his jaw, still looking at me. “You should wear something more form-fitting.”

I scowl at him, but before I can tell him to fuck off, he holds up his hands in surrender, imploring me not to snap at him like I so desperately want to.

“I’m not trying to be an ass. Honest. It’s purely a professional suggestion. Do you have a pair of leggings and a sports bra? Mobility is incredibly important.”

I swallow my annoyance at his ‘professional suggestion’ and nod. “Give me five minutes.”

He nods. “Tie your hair back as well. Preferably in a style that’s difficult to grab.”

“If you want to braid my hair, you should just say so.” The words are out of my mouth before I can clamp it shut.

“Don’t be cute,” he mutters, though I catch the quick twitch of his lips. “Hurry up. I want to beat morning traffic.”

When I come out of my room wearing a matching olive-green workout set with my hoodie tied around my waist and my hair French braided with the tail pinned underneath, I find Noah standing at the window.

“Ready,” I say, grabbing my water bottle off the counter in the kitchen. The whole apartment is basically one room, besides the bathroom and bedroom, which are separated from the main space with frosted glass doors. It’s much smaller than the apartment I shared with Harper in Seattle, but that’s what I get for moving to Manhattan. I remind myself for the hundredth time since I arrived that this isn’t permanent. Harper has been nothing but supportive, and leaving her at the departures entrance before my flight was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Arriving at Ballard Academy half an hour later, I find my gut twisted with nervous energy. I’ve never been here, only heard of the high-level training facilities. Most of the organization’s top hunters come from this place, including Noah, who drums his fingers along the steering wheel as we pull off the main road onto one made of dirt.

After a few minutes on a winding drive, we reach a wrought iron gate with a small security shelter. Someone pokes their head out and gives Noah a wave before the gate ahead beeps, then slides open. Noah smiles at the male guard as we pass and continue on.

The main building looms beyond a large parking lot. It stretches wide and at least five stories tall, its exterior a sleek blend of glass and steel that reflects the pink and orange hues of the sunrise. The walkway leading to the entrance is lined with manicured shrubs, adding a touch of green to the industrial look of the facility.

I clench and unclench my hands in my lap as we pull into a paved parking lot, and Noah parks his SUV at the end of a row of matching vehicles. When he cuts the engine and unbuckles his belt, I can’t force myself to follow suit. I just sit and stare at the sign we parked in front of, because of course Noah has his own parking spot.

Noah was recruited by the organization back when they scouted institutions for smart, athletic candidates who, once they passed all of the background checks and tests, were invited to interview for an upper-level government position. At least, that’s how they framed it. Once the candidate passed enough of their cognitive and physical tests, they found out what job they were really being recruited for. At that point, it was up to them to decide if they wanted to join the organization. Noah was the perfect candidate. He’s a clear success story of the organization, which has to be why they love him so damn much.

“This is the part where we get out of the car.” His tone is teasing, but it does nothing to ease the heavy pit in my stomach.

“Yeah. I just…need a minute.”

He sighs. “Class starts in—”

“I need a fucking minute, Noah,” I snap.

He turns to me. “What is it?”

I shake my head, not sure I’ll be able to put words to what I’m feeling. Not in a way he’ll understand, anyway.

“You need to trust me if this is going to work, Cam.”

I swallow hard and nod, hesitating for as long as I can before the words I hate the most fall from my lips, “I’m scared.” I can’t force my gaze from my lap.

There’s a beat of silence before Noah says, “Look at me.”

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t—

“Camille.” His tone isn’t harsh, but the use of my full name snares my attention and gets me to look over at him. “What are you so afraid of?”

I let out a humorless laugh that says, You’re kidding, right?

Noah presses his lips together, turning in his seat so he’s angled toward me. “It’s just you and me today.”

My brows lift. “What about class? Don’t you have a bunch of trainees to teach?”

He grabs his phone off the dash and taps on the screen for a few seconds. “There. Class covered. We can take one of the private rooms.”

I blink at him and offer a hesitant, “Okay.”

“I know you’re going through a lot, and this—training again—is overwhelming. I also know you’d much rather have someone else for a mentor, but your mom was right, even if you don’t want to admit it. I’m your best shot.”

I stay silent, mostly because I don’t want to admit it, but also because I’m not sure what else to say.

Noah chuckles. “Are you ready to dive in?”

I nod, grabbing my water bottle from the cup holder as we get out of the car. Following Noah away from Ballard’s main entrance, my brows knit as we walk to a smaller, nondescript door around the side of the building. Noah pulls a key fob out of his jacket pocket and taps it against a black panel beside the metal door. There’s a small beep before he pushes it open and gestures for me to walk ahead.

I take a deep breath and step through the doorway as Noah flicks on the lights. Taking in the room that can’t be much bigger than my apartment, I walk around the outside of it. I let my fingers skim over the cardio machines and weight lifting equipment as I make my way back to where Noah stands, having closed the door behind us.

This place doesn’t look much different than the gym in my old apartment building that Harper dragged me to on a handful of occasions before giving up. Except this one has massive windows on either side of the door we came in through, but they must be one-way, because I didn’t see inside as we approached the building. The ceiling height is insane, and exposed pipes give the room an industrial feel, paired with dark blue painted walls. Where normal gyms would have mirrors covering at least one wall, I’m relieved this one doesn’t. I don’t need to see myself getting knocked on my ass. And I have an awful feeling it’s going to happen more than once.

Noah crosses the room, shrugging off his jacket and setting it on a small table before connecting his phone to a sound system that starts playing music with a catchy beat. He turns back to me and points to the row of cardio machines, including a treadmill, an elliptical, and a spin bike. “Warm up with a light, ten-minute jog on the treadmill, no incline.”

“Right,” I say, walking over to the treadmill and setting my water bottle in the cup holder as I step onto the belt. I push a few buttons to get the treadmill moving, then glance sideways to find Noah leaning against the wall on his phone. My cheeks flush hotly when he looks over to find me watching him, and I nearly scowl at the way his mouth ticks up at the corner. He leaves his phone and approaches as I turn my attention to the treadmill screen, untying my hoodie from around my waist and hanging it over the machine out of the way.

“You need to build your endurance,” he says in a level tone. Gone is the arrogant, sarcastic Noah I’m used to. In his place is the demon hunter extraordinaire the organization worships.

“Okay, so—”

“We’ll start and end every session here. Ten minutes to warm up and a ten-minute walk to cool down after we train.”

Instead of trying to speak again, I only nod. My heart is beating a bit harder, a physical reminder of just how much I’ve neglected fitness over the years.

“Meet me on the mats when you’re finished here.” He walks away without waiting for a response.

After my ten minutes are up, I take a few gulps of water as I cross the room to where Noah is waiting for me.

“What do you remember from your training?”

I press my lips together, considering it. I didn’t get past the in-class lectures five years ago, but I’m afraid if I remind Noah that, he’ll realize just how much his work is cut out for him and bail on me. “I think we need to start with the basics here.”

He arches a brow. “I figured. But you didn’t answer my question.”

My eyes narrow, and I exhale through my nose before I say, “I really only remember the textbook stuff. Demons feed on fear and are able to create it in humans in the form of nightmares and hallucinations. They aren’t completely immortal but are as close as it gets, so long as they feed regularly. Their weakness is obsidian, which is why our weapons are crafted from it.”

Noah nods when I finish listing off what I remember. “What else?”

I shrug. “They’re fast and strong.”

He exhales a breathy laugh. “Wow. They should have you teaching Demons 101.”

I flip him off.

“That’s not very nice,” he comments, tutting his tongue.

I prop my hands on my hips. “Are you done quizzing me?”

“For now.” He stands back and looks me over. Not in a creepy, leering way, but it still makes the tops of my ears burn. I have his complete attention and it’s definitely not helping with the nerves. If anything, it’s making my pulse tick faster. His scrutiny makes me want to look away, but I know that’ll only give him more power, so I force myself to keep my eyes on him.

“See something you like?” I retort.

“No,” he says plainly, and heat spreads through my cheeks. “You need to build muscle. I could knock you over with no effort at all.”

I scowl but say nothing to refute that, because he’s right, and we both know it. I let my arms fall back to my sides. “Fine. I need to start lifting weights. Got it.”

He nods. “And I checked your fridge while you were changing this morning. You and I are going grocery shopping later.”

I gape at him for being so blasé about going through my stuff, then quickly come up with, “I’m not giving up carbs. You’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.”

“Did I say that?”

“Just so we’re clear,” I mutter, shifting back and forth on my feet.

He exhales through his nose. “Can we focus on your training now, or do you want to keep running your mouth at me?”

I give him a look, which he ignores.

“I need to see what you can do so I know where to start. If I was a demon and you didn’t have a dagger, what would you do?”

“Run?” I offer weakly, knowing full well that is pretty much the worst course of action. Demons love the chase.

“Want to try that again?”

I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. Try to call for backup and keep myself alive long enough for them to show up?”

He nods. “How would you do that?”

“Charm them with my dazzling personality?”

Noah stares at me.

“Okay, okay.” I roll my bottom lip between my teeth for a few seconds. “Uh—”

“And you’re dead.”

I scowl. “Tell me what to do, then.”

My tone is snippy and irritation prickles along the back of my neck, tempting me to shout at him and his incessant need to make me feel like a complete dumbass.

You’re doing a stellar job of that yourself , an annoying voice at the back of my mind taunts.

Noah rakes a hand through his stupidly perfect hair—seriously, I’d kill to know how long he spent in front of the mirror this morning, tousling it with just enough gel to make it look like that—before regarding me. “Plant your feet shoulder-width apart. You want a sturdy stance. One that’ll give you solid grounding when someone comes at you.”

I follow his instruction, shuffling my feet a bit on the mat until my stance feels good. “Like this?” I glance up from the new pair of shoes Mom sent me to find him watching closely, utterly focused on me.

“Hmm,” he hums in approval, stepping close enough his breath skates across my cheek. “You should enjoy this next part.” There’s a glint of something I could easily mistake as amusement in his gaze. “Hit me.”

I can’t help the grin that twists my lips. “Care to provide any more direction than that?”

He shakes his head. “I need to see your instincts in action before I can correct them.”

My eyes narrow, my dominant hand twitching at my side. “What makes you think they’ll need correcting?”

Noah shrugs. “By all means, show me I’m wrong.”

I curl my hand into a fist and let it fly toward him without hesitation. He blocks it easily, effortlessly catching my fist in his hand. I suck in a breath at the impact, gritting my teeth as he makes no move to release me.

“Sloppy,” he chastises. “And you lost your stance the second you started swinging.” He uses his grip on my fist to push me back, proving his point as I stumble a few steps.

I correct my footing, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. I didn’t expect this to be easy, but it’s dawning on me more by the second how wildly out of my element I am. It’s going to take more than a few extra sessions to get up to par with my training.

“Try again,” he directs.

I rear back as if to throw another punch at him.

“Stop.” When I freeze, he comes around me and stands at my back, gripping my hips and making my next breath halt halfway up my throat. “You need to fix your footing,” he says, using his foot to nudge my stance back into place. “You’re off balance.”

“That’s kind of the understatement of my year,” I mumble as his fingers warm my skin through my leggings.

He doesn’t laugh. “So channel that. Use it to fuel your determination instead of allowing it to be what holds you back.”

“When did you add ‘motivational speaker’ to your resume?”

That earns me a short chuckle as his grip on my hips tightens. “Focus. You need to be more in touch with your body. Besides an obsidian dagger, it’s going to be your best weapon.”

His words elicit a shiver in me, and I swallow past the dryness in my throat before speaking next. “How do you suggest I do that?”

“Close your eyes.” When I start twisting toward him, he holds firm and adds, “Trust me.”

It takes me a few seconds to accept that and follow his direction, letting my eyes fall shut. “Now what?”

“Tell me what you feel.”

Talk about a loaded fucking question.

“What do you mean?” I question in a small voice.

“There are no wrong answers here,” is all he says.

I exhale a sigh, then make an effort to slow my breathing like I’ve learned over many years of panic attacks. “I feel…heavy. Like my shoes are filled with concrete and bricks have replaced my lungs. My head is foggy and spinning at the same time, and exhaustion clings to me as if I’m covered in molasses I can’t wash away.”

“Molasses? How…poetic?” His fingers skim the bare skin between my leggings and bra when his grip loosens, and my eyes fly open. I move away, whirling on him.

“How is this supposed to help me fight?”

His expression gives nothing away.

I blow out an exasperated breath, visualizing having the strength and skill to kick his ass. “You are infuriating. Can I hit you again?”

“You can try,” he offers dryly. “The way I see it, you haven’t actually hit me yet.”

I swallow a growl and launch myself at him, grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving as hard as I can. He concedes a few steps, reaching for me, but I duck away from his grasp, slamming my elbow back blindly. I manage to catch him in the chest, snickering when he grunts, but my victory is short-lived when Noah snakes a powerful arm around my waist, hauling my back against his chest and wrapping his free hand around my throat, effectively immobilizing me.

“Fuck,” I practically seethe, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“You lash out like that, letting your emotions cloud your judgment, and you’ll quickly lose whatever upper hand you might’ve had.” Noah’s voice is level, unaffected, his lips right beside my ear as he speaks.

I clench my jaw when his breath tickles the delicate skin there.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, swallowing my pride to ask, “How do you suggest I don’t do that?”

“Get a grip on your emotions.”

His hold on my throat eases, though he doesn’t let go.

“If you’re caught in a position like this, I want you to throw your entire weight into your captor. They’ll expect you to try pulling away, so you have a better chance of catching them off guard by throwing yourself at them. Push against the floor as hard as you can, using your whole body against the demon’s torso. If you can knock their legs out from under them and get them onto the ground, you’ll create a window to get free. But that will come with a lot of practice. For now, plan on using the power behind your kick and target pain points—groin, ankles, behind the knees.”

I nod as much as I can in his grasp.

“Try it.”

Frowning, I say, “It’s not going to work when you know it’s coming.”

His responding chuckle vibrates against my back, and I try to ignore the way that brings heat to my face. He lets me go, and it takes me longer than it should to step away and turn to look at him again.

“I want you to focus on strength training.” He nods toward the rack of weights across the room. “Have you lifted before?”

I press my lips together, shaking my head. “Not really. Harper’s dragged me to the gym a few times, but nothing substantial.”

Noah’s expression tells me he isn’t surprised, but he doesn’t say anything as we walk over and he grabs the two-pound weights, holding them out to me. When I take them, my eyes flick to his. “These aren’t heavy. At least give me a challenge, Daniels.”

His lips twitch. “I want to make sure your form is proper before we get into the serious lifting.”

“Okay.” I guess that makes sense.

We go through half a dozen arm workouts with Noah showing me the correct movement, and by the time we’re done, my muscles feel like noodles and sweat covers my skin.

So maybe the two-pound weights weren’t too light…

We return to the mats and sit while Noah gives me a chance to down my water. “Are you going to make me go to a class tomorrow?”

He arches a brow. “I’m not going to make you do anything.”

I nod slowly, chewing my bottom lip as I stretch my legs out. “I’m just thinking about how thrilled some of the hunters are going to be with me coming back.”

“Why do you say that? Because your boyfriend just became our number one enemy?”

My heart nearly leaps into my throat. “He’s not…” My voice trails off, and I frown at my knee-jerk reaction to deny Xander being my boyfriend. But he can’t be, especially not now. I resent the hope I had before the mission to be with him once Lucia was gone. It seems impossible now. There are too many unknowns, along with questions I likely don’t want the answers to.

“We don’t have to talk about him,” Noah chimes in. “In fact, I’d much prefer we didn’t.” His voice lowers. “That whole thing was a disaster.”

I nod my agreement. “Noah, I—” I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around his forearm. “I’m really sorry about Elias. He was a good guy and didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“You’re right.” His smile takes me by surprise, and he pats my hand. “We’ll have to get you trained enough to be my new partner.”

Warmth blossoms in my cheeks, and I decide to play into his quip as I pull my hand back. “I’m not sure how that’s supposed to happen when you’re going easy on me.”

Cue the glimmer of amusement in his gaze. “I’m giving you what you can handle so you’ll show up again tomorrow.”

What I can handle?

I can’t help the flare of annoyance that brings. I get to my feet, flexing my fingers and shaking out my arms. “You’re not going to sit there and tell me you know what I can handle better than I do.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up as he stands. My attention snaps toward him as he comes closer, and I immediately go on the defensive, my body tensing a second before he attacks. I can’t move away fast enough to escape him, and he kicks my legs out from under me. I land hard on the mat, the air knocked from my lungs, and Noah pins me in record time. His thighs trap my hips, and when I try to sit up, he grabs my shoulders and slams me down, holding me there. He opens his mouth to gloat, no doubt, but I snap, “Don’t you dare.”

He shoots me a smirk, and I use every ounce of strength trying to buck him off. My efforts are futile, which only makes the anger in my chest burn hotter.

“Are you done?” he asks in a voice tinged with arrogance.

Asshole.

I sneer at him, though parts of me are a little too aware of how much he’s pressed against me. I’m nowhere near prepared to consider what that means, so I double my efforts trying to get out from under him. Finally, he relents, getting off me and hauling me upright. As soon as my feet are on the mat, I put distance between us.

“I think that’s enough for your first day back,” Noah says.

I can’t agree fast enough.

We grab our jackets and head back to the car.

“You should work stretches into your morning and evening routines. It’ll help prevent your muscles from tightening in between training sessions.” He slides the key into the ignition, starting the car and backing out of his parking spot. We’re near the front gate when he continues, “I also recommend taking a magnesium supplement before bed. It’s a natural muscle relaxant and will also help you sleep better. That’s another thing—get plenty of sleep. Your mom mentioned that you’re taking time off school to focus on training, so you have no excuse not to get enough rest.”

I tip my head back against the seat, closing my eyes as we head for the interstate. I’m struggling not to get annoyed with him firing all these things at me, and remind myself that he’s trying to help me.

It’s safe to say we both have our work cut out for us.