After a fitful sleep that saw most of the day disappear, Taer was on the floor in the living room, the news showing on the muted TV as she did some stretches to loosen up her muscles, tight and cramping from the previous day’s training.
Bending one leg and placing her foot near her groin, Taer leaned her chest towards the ground and stretched out her arm until her hands were wrapped around her foot. She felt the pull all the way through her hamstring, but she leaned even further forward, making her muscles scream. She welcomed this ache, trying to take her mind off the accidental dream walk she’d found herself in—the events still running like a movie reel in her head.
“Like what you see, Little Girl?”
Aubrey’s words echoed through her head, taunting her. All right, so maybe she was attracted to the bastard, but nothing was ever going to happen between them. All Taer needed him for was to help find Darrion. After that, he would be nothing more than a goddamn memory.
“But no matter how cool you play this, I know you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you.”
Taer huffed and increased the stretch, hoping the pain would take her mind off that smug bastard.
But no matter what she did, or which part of her body she pushed to the very limits, she couldn’t get her mind to focus.
“I knew you were there, watching me with that woman.”
She closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. Behind her eyelids, the image of Aubrey standing with the towel pooled around his feet, his magnificent body on show, all for her, was like torture.
“Taer?” Korvain asked, touching her on the shoulder, wrenching her from her thoughts. She blinked rapidly at him standing in front of her.
“Yeah?”
“How are you feeling today?” he asked, concern in his voice.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Taer said, “I slept like shit. How do you think I’m feeling?”
Korvain grunted. “You slept most of the day.”
Releasing her stretch, Taer gave her other hamstring the same treatment. “Is that a problem?”
“Of course not,” he replied, taking a seat on the couch behind her and pulling out his karambit to clean.
“Will we be doing any training tonight?” she asked.
The Mare shook his head. “Not tonight. Dream walking takes a toll on your energy levels—even more than physical training does. Tomorrow night, maybe.”
“We could do some weapon training instead?”
His eyes shifted from the blade. “No, Taer. We’ve already discussed this,” he replied darkly, “and I’m not willing to discuss it further. My decision is final.”
Turning away from him, Taer swallowed down her anger and disappointment. If he wasn’t willing to teach her, she would just have to find someone else to do it.
“I have to go downstairs and help Bryn open up,” he said. “What are you doing tonight?”
Taer shrugged, focusing on the TV. “Not sure yet. Might just watch some TV or something. Maybe there’ll be a good movie on later.”
The dull rasp of a blade being put back in a holster whispered behind her. “I’ll check in on you later, Taer.”
She waved him away and pretended to be transfixed on the TV instead. When the apartment door shut behind him, Taer stood up and got showered and dressed.
She had somewhere she had to be.
*
Pushing into the War Hammer, Taer was too pissed off to acknowledge the stares and marched to the same booth she’d seen Aubrey at before. The bastard was sitting there, looking relaxed, with a woman—a different woman from before—straddling him, happily rocking backwards and forwards in his lap. He glanced up at her arrival, a cocky grin spreading on his lips. Taer wanted to wipe the damn thing off with the blunt end of a bar stool.
“Caught you at a bad time?” she asked sweetly. The woman turned around with a gasp, staring at Taer as if she had just interrupted a very private moment. Fucking newsflash: they were in a bar.
“Give us a minute, Ava,” Aubrey told the woman in a steady drawl, patting her on the ass she as extricated herself from his lap. Ava left them in a hurry, Taer’s eyes following her as she did. When she was out of sight, Taer turned her attention back to Aubrey, who was giving her a narcissistic smile.
Dick.
“Girlfriend?” she asked caustically, hating that anger she heard in her voice. Why should she care who Aubrey fucked?
“Just a girl,” he replied, readjusting himself openly. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Two visits in less than twelve hours.” He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Aren’t I the lucky one?”
The reminder made Taer grind her teeth together. “That was a mistake,” she replied, “and not the reason I came here.”
Aubrey’s pale brows rose. “A mistake? I wouldn’t have called it that, but do tell me what the other reason is for you coming to see me.”
“I need to know whether you’ve found out anything about that Mare yet.”
“The guild master?” he clarified. Taer gave him a tight nod. The light elf leaned back in the booth, his fingers interlacing on top of the table. “Not yet.”
Taer was seething. “Is that because you’ve been too busy … entertaining the opposite sex?” she asked.
A lazy smile hitched up one side of his delectable mouth. “Jealous, Little Girl?”
Taer frowned. “Of her?” she asked, angrily indicating the direction the female had disappeared in. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“If you’re not jealous, why are you so angry right now?”
“I’m not angry, Aubrey. I’m fucking pissed off. You’d know if I was angry with you.” Taer realized what she’d just said was nonsense and frowned. “And that’s not the point. You said you could help me find this male, but so far I’ve not seen you do much else other than womanize and philander. If you can’t help me, just say so, and I’ll go find someone else who can.”
“You didn’t mean a single thing you’ve just said,” he retorted, leaning forward, ensnaring her with his searing gaze. “If any of it were true, you wouldn’t still be standing here. So, tell me the real reason you came down here.”
Taer didn’t like how intuitive he was, but he was right. She hadn’t come down here simply to chew him out for not finding Darrion yet. She had come here to ask another favor, but was afraid of what he would ask for in return. He hadn’t asked for anything the first time around, but now she would be asking a lot more of him.
“I need another favor,” she begrudgingly replied, the words like ash on her tongue.
“I’m all ears.”
Cursing under her breath, Taer forced herself to look him in the eye. “I need weapons training.”
Both of his brows rose this time around. “Why would a sweet young girl like you need weapons training? And why would you think I would know anything about weapons?”
Planting her palms on the table, Taer leaned down, making sure Aubrey could see just how serious she was. “To torture and kill the bastard that killed my brother,” she replied darkly. “And you haven’t lived as long as you have without knowing how to fight,” she added.
The light elf’s expression sobered, his gaze intensifying. “So that explains the pain in your eyes,” he commented softly. There was pity in his tone, and Taer hated to hear it. Straightening, she tried to put as much distance between them as she could. His expression hadn’t changed, forcing her to look away.
“Will you help me or not?” she asked, knowing there really was nowhere else for her to turn.
“Of course,” he replied unhesitatingly, and her eyes darted back to his face.
“Just like that?”
He shrugged. “Just like that.”
There had to be more to it than that. “What’s it going to cost me?”
“Your name.”
“That’s all you want? I tell you my name and you help train me?” she shot back incredulously.
He smiled, but it lacked the cockiness she was used to. “Is that so hard to believe?”
She wanted to tell him yes, it was, but she wouldn’t push the issue. He had agreed to train her, and it had cost her a hell of a lot less than she’d expected.
“When can we start?”
“When will you tell me your name?” he returned, one brow cocked.
Taer looked away, indecision about his motives plaguing her. She’d already come this far, though. What was another step into Aubrey’s tangled web of debt? Facing him once more, she said, “It’s Taer.”
“Winter Fox,” he said, the true meaning of her name on his lips sending shivers down her spine. Fuck, she had to get better control over her mind and body while she was around him. Pissed off with herself for letting him affect her so much, Taer turned to leave, but paused when Aubrey spoke again, his silky voice drawing her back like it was a drug and she was the addict.
“Tell me something; do you like to read classic books?” he asked casually.
Taer’s shoulders tensed. “Not really had much time to read,” she replied warily.
“You should find the time. I could lend you a copy of my favorite book, if you’d like?”
“And what’s that?” she asked.
His expression was mocking. “Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. You have heard of it, yes?”
Taer cleared her throat, refusing to acknowledge that she had. Instead, she said with a shrug, “Can’t say that I have.”
Aubrey stood up and moved towards her, his body lithe and graceful. “I’ll bring you my copy sometime.” His voice was inviting.
Reaching up, his fingers grazed Taer’s cheek. The pounding of her heart intensified, and she prayed he couldn’t hear it.
“Come back here before closing. We’ll start training then.”
*
It was close to three in the morning when Taer returned to the War Hammer. She had tried to talk herself out of going more than a dozen times, but she always came back to the fact that she needed Aubrey, even if she didn’t want to admit it in so many words.
The street was quiet as she tapped on the door. She was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, the bitter wind blowing right through her. Cradling her upper body tightly, she tried to fight off the chill as she waited for the door to open. There was a shuffling of feet on the other side, then the door was pulled open by Alistyre. The dwarf gave her a reproachful look.
“What are you doing here?” he asked gruffly.
“She’s here to see me, Al,” Aubrey said from deeper inside. The dwarf looked over his shoulder, grunted and stepped back from the door. Taer pulled the top of her hood down and walked inside. Aubrey appeared from the back of the bar dressed in a black singlet and black trackpants, his feet bare.
Against her better judgement, and in direct contradiction to her own pep talk to not become ensnared by the light elf, Taer couldn’t help but peruse his body when she saw him. Forcing her eyes away, she found him watching her, amused.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked.
She shrugged easily, dismissing his question. “Where will we be training?” She looked around the empty bar, noticing the relics from their old worlds hanging from the walls for the first time. Among the dwarves’ axes were elven shields and bows as well as battle horns and helmets.
“Upstairs.”
His answer brought Taer’s eyes back to him. “You live here?”
He shook his head. “I never said that.” Before Taer could ask any more questions, he turned around and walked back the way he’d come. “Are you coming, Winter Fox?” he called, mockingly.
Cursing quietly under her breath, Taer stomped after him, finding the light elf waiting at the bottom of a set of stairs.
“After you,” he said. Pushing her shoulders back and tilting her chin up, Taer marched right past him and up the stairs. She felt more than heard him follow, the heat of his body pressing up against her. At the top of the stairs she reached a door and pushed it open.
The space was huge, at least as big as the bar below. Each corner held different equipment: daggers and hand weapons, sparring mats, grappling dummies and targets. On the floor, blue mats had been spread out, covering the entire surface.
“Where would you like to start?” Aubrey asked, his voice a seductive whisper from right behind her. His hand brushed against the back of her neck. Startled, Taer spun around and reflexively swung her arm out. Aubrey caught her by the wrist before the strike could land, his fingers cinching shut.
Taer struggled to free her arm from his grasp, but Aubrey just flexed his arm, dragging her closer to his body. On instinct, Taer went still, her face mere inches from his. She was staring into his pale eyes, those infinite grey windows to his soul.
“Lesson number one: be prepared for anything.” His breath was a warm breeze across her cheeks, his cinnamon scent wafting over her. “And lesson number two: strike only when you know you will inflict damage.”
Releasing his fingers, Aubrey gently pushed her away and dropped his arms. “How much training have you had?”
“Not enough.” Taer hoped he couldn’t hear the tremble in her voice.
“It shows.” Walking in a tight circle around her, he seemed to watch her and ignore her at the same time. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
He paused and turned to her. “That’s a lot. Narrow it down for me.”
Taer thought about it for a moment. “I need to know how to defend myself against a bladed weapon.”
“What kind of bladed weapon?”
“Throwing knife,” she replied automatically, remembering Darrion’s proclivity for daggers.
“Okay. It’s a start.” Aubrey walked over to what looked like a metal tool chest. Pulling open the top drawer, the light elf withdrew a double-edged knife and turned to face Taer.
He weighed the weapon in his hand carefully, walking back towards her.
“A throwing knife,” he said, presenting the weapon. “Deadly if you know how to wield one successfully.”
She stared at the metal weapon. It was probably no more than seven and a half inches long with a silver and black finish on the blade. The brushed steel reflected light while the black oxidized steel seemed to absorb it.
“But beatable?” she asked. She needed it to be beatable. Taer had worked with long and short swords with Adrian, but he hadn’t wanted to show her any more weapons.
He shrugged, the muscles in his chest and shoulders rippling beneath his pale skin. “At a distance? No. At close quarters, perhaps.”
“Show me.”
Aubrey gave her an indulgent look. “I will, but I want to see how you handle one first. Have you ever thrown a blade before?” Taer shook her head. Aubrey walked over to one corner of the room and pulled out a large wooden board and an A-framed stand. Setting it at the other end of the room—at least forty feet from her—he made his way back to her, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his hips swayed. She had to stop looking at him as if he was melted chocolate and she wanted a taste.
Coughing, she pinned him with a hard stare and muttered, “It’s too far away for me to hit.”
He only shrugged in reply and handed her the knife, handle first. The cold steel hit her palm, but it warmed to her body temperature almost immediately. “Close your eyes,” he ordered. Taer blinked at him. “Close your eyes,” he repeated. “I’m not going to do anything to you, Winter Fox,” he added with a self-assured grin. “No matter how much I want to.”
“Why?” she asked, and she realized her mistake as soon as the word had left her lips.
His grin turned lascivious. “I want you to feel the balance of this weapon,” he replied, but his eyes were saying so much more.
Letting out a breath, Taer weighed her options. She had to trust him at least a little. He was training her, after all. Against her better judgement and every instinct she had, Taer closed her eyes.
Aubrey shifted closer to her, making Taer stiffen in response. She brought the blade up, tilting it in his general direction. “Relax,” he whispered. “I’m not going to touch you until you ask me to, Taer.”
“That’ll never happen,” she spat back. Aubrey chuckled and moved away.
“I want you to get a feel for this weapon. Unwrap your fingers from the hilt and let the knife find its natural balance in your hand,” he ordered gently.
Taer relaxed her hand and let herself feel the metal, how the steel felt against her skin.
“Can you feel it?” he asked beside her.
“Yes.”
“Good. Open your eyes. Now, the trick to throwing a blade is having a firm but not too tight grip. These blades don’t have a guard, so be careful with your fingers.”
“Am I holding it properly?” she asked, stretching out her hand to show him.
“Don’t worry about that so much. I want to see what your instincts are when it comes to a blade. You might just be a natural.”
“All right,” she submitted. “We’ll try this your way, I guess.”
There was a low chuckle behind her. “Throw the blade.”
Taer drew in a deep breath, concentrating on the steel in her hand. She had no idea of the correct technique, so she just brought her arm above her head and threw the blade with as much power as she had.
The ring of metal slicing through the air sounded for a moment before a loud thunk and an even louder clattering sound made her eyes open wide. The blade was lying on the bare floor about three feet from the wooden target. The hilt had hit the target but then bounced away. She looked at Aubrey.
“You do not have a natural ability for throwing knives.”
“No shit,” Taer muttered, going to collect the steel from the floor. She handed it back, being careful not to brush his hand as she did. “So, clearly I can’t use a throwing blade. But that’s not what I want to know.” Taking a step towards him, she watched his eyes widen and nostrils flare. “I want to know how to defend myself against one. What if my opponent has one? What then?”
Aubrey’s clear eyes narrowed on her face. “You know who killed your brother, don’t you?”
“And I’m sure you know who killed him, too,” she retorted, holding back the grief that threatened to spill out with her words. How could he not know? He wasn’t a fool. She was looking for Darrion, and although she hadn’t told him why, he must have put two and two together by now.
She said, “Teach me how to defend myself against someone who uses throwing knives.”
Aubrey studied her for a long minute. “You’ve got balls, Winter Fox. I’ll give you that.” He walked a few paces away and then turned to face her again. “You can’t defend yourself unarmed against someone with a throwing knife who attacks from a distance, especially against someone who is as … proficient with the blade as Darrion is. But if you can get close to him—inside his guard—then you can defend yourself.”
Taer’s eyes locked on Aubrey. “Drill me on that then. I want to attack Darrion in a way that will leave him unable to fight on his terms.”
Aubrey gestured at her hoodie and sweats. “What have you got on under there?” he asked.
Taer looked down at herself. “A singlet and underwear,” she replied, brazenly meeting his gaze.
Heat flared in his eyes. He reached out a hand and plucked one of the strings from her hoodie, playing with the end. “Lose the hoodie. Keep the sweats.”
Taer’s mouth was suddenly dry. She didn’t want to expose her scar to Aubrey, but she really didn’t have a choice. Sliding her arms from the sleeves, she pulled the hoodie over her head and threw it against the wall.
Aubrey’s eyes were focused on her chest when she looked back at him.
“Enjoying the view?” she asked, turning his own question back on him.
His pale gray eyes met hers. “Would you hold it against me if I said I was?” he asked.
“That’s so not going to happen,” she muttered. “Can we get on with this?”
Aubrey’s eyes drifted down, and she could see the moment when they found the scar at the base of her throat. “Who did that to you, Taer?” he asked darkly, his hands clenching tightly at his side.
Taer’s hand automatically rose to her throat. “I’m not discussing that with you, Aubrey,” she warned. “You said you’d train me, not interrogate me.”
He stared at her again, the set of his jaw firm and unyielding. “Fine.” Bending his knees, he lowered his body into a fighting stance she recognized well. “Just remember that you wanted this.”
They were the last words he spoke to her as he became of blur of shadows and silver arcs, his smooth, sinuous movements silent except for the whoosh of steel cutting through the air. She had known he’d be proficient with a weapon, but she hadn’t realized just how good he’d be. It was almost as if he were a completely different person when he had a blade in his hand.
Taer did her best to dodge each attack with a well-timed pivot, or by ducking the swipe of the blade, but she quickly became aware of how futile fighting at close quarters was. Still, Aubrey barked orders at her, correcting a stance, or trying a new position. Angry and frustrated, Taer tried again and again, but his strikes kept landing, opening up yet another wound.
By the time they were done, Taer had shallow cuts on her forearms, the tops of her hands, her throat and face. The superficial damage was already beginning to heal, but the smudges of her dried blood served as a reminder of just how lethal Aubrey really was.
Taer doubled over, her breaths coming out in a harsh staccato rhythm. She could hear the pounding of blood in her veins, feel her sweat mingling with the blood that covered nearly every inch of her upper body.
“Again,” Aubrey said—not even a little bit breathless.
They were continuing? Aubrey gave her a look that told her to toughen up and face him again, and she suddenly wished for one of his seductive smiles, his usual teasing tone.
“You’re letting your emotions get in the way,” he said matter-of-factly. “Remain detached. Remain unaffected and you can overcome any enemy.”
She hauled her body upright, ignoring the sharp protest of her muscles and readying herself for the next onslaught.
With every movement, she was aware of her injuries, aware of how Aubrey was cutting her in the same place two or three times. Fresh blood tainted the air, somehow fueling her to fight harder, to move faster, but her arms and legs screamed with each contraction of her muscles.
She forced all rage, anger, grief and pride from her body, focusing everything she had on the fight, and suddenly found that she could anticipate his next move, and counter it, but she was still too slow.
They continued in this way for what felt like hours, until her entire body begged for release. Taer had just been knocked down and was picking herself up again when Aubrey abruptly stepped away. “Good,” he muttered, wiping his blade with the end of his T-shirt. “Enough. We’ll start again tomorrow.”
Taer was disinclined to argue with him after the beating he’d just dished out. She pulled the slick fabric of her singlet away from her sweat-drenched body to wipe her forehead.
“Put this on before you get cold,” Aubrey said, handing her the hoodie he’d retrieved from the floor.
“You’re asking me to cover up?” she said incredulously, taking the sweater and pulling it over her head.
“I promise it’ll never happen again,” he said teasingly.
Finally, the womanizer was back.
“Regretting asking me to train you now?” he asked gently, his expression serious.
“Why would you ask that?”
He reached out a hand to brush against her cheek, but Taer dodged it, glaring at him.
“Because it appears as if I’ve hurt you.”
“You haven’t hurt me,” she replied, turning around and walking to the door. She stopped there, not turning back around. “Because you can’t hurt what’s already broken.”
With her words still hanging in the air, Taer went down the stairs and left the War Hammer, a new sense of accomplishment unfurling in her belly.