Kat
The grunts and yells and bangs coming from the workout room drifted down the hall to greet me later that night. Arik wasn’t waiting on me, apparently. I eased around the doorjamb, hoping to get a peek at him before he saw me and what I figured were probably stars in my eyes.
He did not have near enough clothes on for what little peace of mind I had left.
Granted, he was wearing pants—some clingy, slick-materialed pants that molded perfectly to the heavy muscles of his legs and butt, not to mention what it did for his, ah, other assets. The image of exactly what those assets might look like and the knowledge that he wanted to show them to me was burned into my mind, flashing at the most inopportune moments. Like now. He might very well be the first man I’d see naked, and I had a feeling all others would pale in comparison, for the rest of my life. However long that life ended up being.
And wasn’t that just too crazy to even think about.
The room was blindingly bright, the overhead lights reflecting off the white walls and exposing every nook and cranny, including those on Arik’s body. Surveying that body made my breath speed up. His bare chest, smooth and thickly muscular, just like the rest of him, glistened with sweat, the droplets flinging themselves into the air as he twisted and turned, a long wooden stick in his hand. Whatever he was doing, it was beautiful. He was beautiful: dangerous, gorgeous, powerful in a way I’d never encountered before. I closed my eyes and remembered the feel of his breath in my ear, his mouth on my neck. I hadn’t even considered him biting me. Nightmares still haunted me, and the occasional glimpse of Arik’s fangs made it impossible to close my waking mind to what he was—not my enemy, but not that far different from them either. Still, when I allowed myself to think about Arik’s fangs touching my skin, what sparked in my body wasn’t fear; it was hunger.
And that scared me more than being afraid of him.
Wayward libido aside, those fangs also reminded me that he wasn’t a man, and he was leading me into a world so alien I wasn’t certain if my next step would be on solid ground or empty air. I’d apparently chopped a shifter’s head off. Just the words running through my mind made my stomach churn with the need to vomit.
Of course, they also had me picturing myself dressed as the queen from Alice in Wonderland, swinging a scepter and running after a shifter yelling, Off with his head!
A giggle, slightly hysterical in nature, rose in my throat. I was so losing it. And now Arik wanted me to train?
Suck it up, Katherine. You’ve got work to do.
Right.
I opened my eyes, searching for something to focus on, hoping to avoid the hysteria bubbling below the surface. My gaze zeroed in on Arik’s strong, sexy body once more. He jumped into the air with a sharp yell, twisted the stick in front of his face as if defending himself from an attacker, then lashed out with one pointed end. Grasping the bottom end, he flung the weapon around and back, turning it full circle above his body as he bent into a deep backbend that could’ve been featured in a movie without special-effects enhancement. On the uprise, a series of blocks, strikes, and circles conjured the image of him fighting someone equally well armed, though I doubted anyone could be nearly as fast. The weapon was a literal blur in motion, sure to take out everything in its path.
With a piercing battle cry, Arik performed a final strike that had him jumping straight into the air and landing hard, knees and stick end striking the concrete floor. The stick popped, the half that hit the floor spinning away, the top still in Arik’s firm grip. He stayed there in a kneeling position, his entire body heaving with the effort of his performance, golden skin gleaming in the light. I waited until a final deep exhale left him before I dared to venture into the room.
Arik spun, the broken staff gripped in his hands, relaxing immediately when his gaze settled on me. I gestured toward his hands. “Lose a lot of sticks that way?”
He glanced at the broken weapon. A short laugh escaped. “A lot.” Walking over to collect the shattered pieces of the other half where they lay, scattered after hitting the concrete wall, he asked over his shoulder, “You ready?”
My noncommittal “mmm” probably didn’t hide my nerves. Fishing for a delay, no matter how futile, I crossed to the rack in one corner of the room. Each space cut into the frame cradled a stick like the one Arik had broken. “What exactly are these?”
Arik eyed me as he ran a towel over his chest. “It’s a bo.” He dropped the towel and walked over, pulling one of the staffs out. “Handy to practice with—not many knives or swords just lying around when you get into a fight, but a broom, shovel, anything with a handle…you can find those anywhere.” He passed the bo to me.
It was surprisingly light. I twirled it experimentally, fumbled, and dropped it. The bo clattered against the concrete floor. “Sorry.” I bent and gingerly picked it back up.
“I take it you don’t have a lot of experience with weapons.”
“Try none.” I’d carried pepper spray in my pocket but never had need of it until the night I’d been bitten.
Arik’s touch pulled me away from the dark memories rising. He slid his hands along mine, shifting their position on the bo until my grip felt comfortable. “The key with blunt weapons is intent. If you swing tentatively, there’s little impact. If you swing with the intent to bash your opponent’s head in, drive all the way through, that power is transmitted through the weapon to whatever you’re attacking.”
He showed me a couple of moves, guiding me through the motions until I got the hang of it, then stringing the moves together to form a basic pattern I could practice—a kata, he called it. He walked me through some shorter sets as well, pushing faster and faster until his punches and kicks were nothing but rapid snaps in the air around me. I was surprised at the ache in my shoulders and arms—the bo was light, but swinging it with accuracy took effort. I was beginning to see why he practiced with his shirt off.
The thought of doing the same had me fumbling a block, allowing a punch to connect with my shoulder. Fortunately Arik pulled it at the last minute.
“Focus,” he snapped. “Always focus. A second’s distraction could mean your death.”
He reset my position, but next thing I knew, he had a bo of his own in his hands.
Oh, abso-fucking-lutely not.
I scrambled back. I’d seen him fight. I liked my body well enough as it was, thanks, no new holes or pieces necessary.
Arik’s heavy look fixed on me, irritation still evident. “Don’t be a pussy.”
I laughed, telling myself that wasn’t hurt curdling in my stomach. Yes, I was scared. A lot. That wasn’t how I wanted Arik to think of me, but welcome to my world. It was who I was inside. He’d seen me at my very worst, in fact.
And yet I had no desire to share the humiliation his words sparked in my deepest recesses. “Meow.”
Arik blinked. A contrite grin tugged at his mouth, and then he was the old Arik again. With a relaxed familiarity I envied, he pivoted the staff around his body. “Okay, okay.”
I shrugged. “Don’t tell me I’m the first scaredy-cat when it comes to fighting you.”
His grin made me forget everything but how sexy he was. “What can I say? I do intimidation well.”
Yes, he did. I really didn’t want to think about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of it.
Arik got serious again, though the annoyance stayed gone. “Kat, you have to know the world isn’t sunshine and roses. You won’t always be fighting air.”
“I know that! I’m new to all this, not a complete idiot.”
Seeming to sense the thin ice he’d stepped onto, he grimaced. “Right.” One hand came up, his fingers skating across the tattoo on his neck. “My point is, it takes time to master a gift, just like it does a weapon. You can’t afford to wait on either of them; you have to learn to defend yourself.”
He set the tip of his bo on the floor and leaned against it as if settling in for a long talk. “What you are calls to what we are; Archai and Anigma alike will be drawn to you. You can never take your safety for granted, ever.” A strange bite colored his words.
“What’s an enigma?”
“Anigma,” he said, emphasizing the initial vowel. “They’re the enemy.”
“The ones who attacked me?”
“Yes.”
“Why are they the enemy?” I asked. “Why did they target me?”
“Because somehow, someway, they knew what you were.” He shifted his weight, rocking away from the bo, then back, causing the slender staff to creak. The sway of his beautiful body was mesmerizing, filling in the blanks of how he might look swaying above me. I forced my gaze away until what I was thinking didn’t shine from my eyes. “Hundreds of years ago, a faction of shifters grew within the Archai, shifters who balked at the rules that allow us to live in harmony with humans.”
I snorted. “That’s original.”
Arik hmphed. “That saying, ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely,’ could’ve been written for us. The psychs were our safety net, our last line of defense, until the Anigma began to use them—willing or not—to destroy those who opposed their drive to power. There was a war. People died. People always die,” he said, some emotion I couldn’t identify threading into his voice, “but it doesn’t have to be you. Not if you train. And not if you forget how to trust.”
That indefinable something in his tone sent my heart slamming against the bars of my rib cage. “But I trust you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” Without warning, he drove his bo straight for my throat.
“Arik!” Automatically I brought my own staff up, blocking his teeth-rattling strike at the last second. “What—”
Another jab, this time aiming for my knee. I skittered to the side.
“Stop dancing around and fight. I want you to really go at it. Imagine your worst enemy, imagine hitting them.” Aggression shredded Arik’s tone like ground glass. “Put your weight into your strikes.”
“I don’t have any—” But I couldn’t honestly say that anymore, could I? I did have an enemy, one I wanted to kill. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the feeling of being grabbed, the sensation of needle-sharp teeth ripping into my flesh, of drowning in my own blood. When my throat closed off enough that I choked, I opened my eyes. I swung the bo with all my might, putting every bit of fear, pain, and yes, hate, into my attack.
“Is that it?” Arik taunted. He sideswiped me, the bo’s end passing close enough to snag my T-shirt. “That’s all you’ve got? I don’t think your enemy has anything to worry about.” His grin was more of a sneer.
Frustration beat at me on a swiftly rising tide. I swung again, but Arik ducked and the bo whooshed uselessly over his head. Again, then again. I struck repeatedly, getting nowhere except sweaty and tired.
“Come on, Kitty Kat. Don’t tell me you’re gonna give up.” He raised a mocking eyebrow as he leaned onto his bo, planted negligently on the concrete once again. As if he had nothing to worry about. As if I was no threat at all.
That’s probably how the shifter who’d tried to kill me felt too.
With a surge of adrenaline and anger, I twisted my bo, jabbing the tip directly toward Arik’s ribs. “No!” No way was I giving up.
Arik turned, the bo missing him by mere inches. Still he hunched over, grabbing his ribs, choking on a grunt.
When he straightened, I stared at what had been a pristine expanse of skin. Now a red blush blossomed over his right ribs, trailing around his side. “What…? Did I…?”
Arik nodded his head, chuckling as his breath wheezed in and out. “Yeah, you did.”
Stepping close, I dared to reach out, dared to touch what I knew I shouldn’t. Arik’s abs contracted under the slide of my fingers. “But the bo didn’t hit; I’d have felt it.”
“The bo didn’t, but you did.” Arik’s hand covered mine, pressing my fingers against him, drawing my hand toward the tantalizingly faint trail of downy hair just below his belly button. “That’s your power; that’s what we’ve got to tap into.”
I barely managed to control the impulse to rub my palm against him. I reclaimed my hand but continued to stare at his ribs, unable to process what I’d done. “I…”
Arik took my bo and walked to the rack to put our weapons away. “Words have power, remember?”
“I…yelled.”
“And you were angry.”
I thought about that a moment. “You did that on purpose.”
“Of course I did.” He prowled closer, forcing me to drop my gaze or reveal far more than I wanted. When his chest teed with my shoulder and his breath blew hot on my sweat-damp neck, he whispered, “Don’t. Trust. Anyone.”
Heart pounding, I whispered back, “I trust you.” Foolish or not, there it was. This man had rescued me, helped me heal. He was showing me how to function in a world gone mad. I trusted him.
One hand settled flat on my belly, holding me in place. Arik leaned closer until his lips met my ear. Over the bass drum that was my heartbeat, I heard clearly, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”