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We sealed the deal with a kiss...or would have if a shiny steel blade hadn’t sliced down between us just as our lips were a whisper away from meeting.
“Really?” the voice emerged from the other end of the blade even as the weapon twisted so it menaced only me. “You want us to be trained by someone who doesn’t notice an armed swordswoman walking up beside her in a public space?”
I tried to see who was speaking, but I couldn’t move without slicing my own jugular. So I used half of my attention to create a metal choker around my sensitive neck while responding to the opponent I still couldn’t see.
“You want to be trained? It seems like you already know what you’re doing.” With my words as cover, I materialized the other half of my magic into a sword that clanked ever so slightly as it settled on the step below me.
Meanwhile, Gunner—darn him—merely chuckled as he stood and descended down the stairs away from the female with her sword at my neck. “Looks like you’re busy,” he noted. “How about we meet up for lunch later?”
“What happened to our promise?” I complained. “You watch my back, I watch your back?”
“You appear to have everything under control.”
As we bantered, I used half my senses to guess how many werewolves had snuck up on us. Because I wasn’t just facing the single female whose blade was now separated from me by a thin sheet of magical metal. No, from the scents and sounds, I’d guess there were half a dozen here at least.
Despite his dismissal, Gunner still hovered, ready to assist me. But this was clearly a problem I needed to solve myself. The trick was to make my escape not only effective but also flashy enough to prevent a repeat occurrence....
Stepping onto my sword hilt with one foot, I flicked it upward with the other. Then I twirled and caught my own weapon even as I used the metallic choker to knock my opponent’s blade aside.
Edward’s daughter. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or daunted by the fact that my opponent was instantly recognizable. Ditto by the sheer number of females arrayed behind her back.
There were fifteen bystanders, most young but a few middle-aged or older. Becky wasn’t among them, and even though a few faces looked vaguely familiar I didn’t know anybody’s name. Had they really come to me for lessons, or was this the female version of the welcoming committee that had left me black and blue yesterday when I failed to respect my place within the pack?
Whatever the sword wielder’s purpose, I didn’t slow my steps to debrief her nor did I bother to introduce myself. Instead, I slipped beneath my primary opponent’s guard, gauging my angle carefully. She was clearly a clothes hog, her outfit perfectly coordinated and apparently tailored to her form.
So I hit her where it hurt the most. Turning my blade at an angle, I sliced off the lace collar lining the top half of her shirt. Her free hand rose to catch the descending fabric even as I slashed slices into her tight-fitting pants.
There was an art to ruining clothes without scratching the skin beneath it. Good thing I was a pro at that art.
Behind her, the other werewolves were wide-eyed, some gasping, a few giggling. Meanwhile, Edward’s daughter seemed torn between anger...and was that amusement fighting for dominance on her face?
I’d almost forgotten Gunner was waiting until he spoke into the silence. “Yep, you definitely have this covered,” Gunner noted. “Enjoy your girl time.” And he strode away down the sidewalk, leaving me to teach swordsmanship to females who might or might not actually want to be taught.
***
“I’M ELIZABETH,” EDWARD’S daughter told me as she shifted her sword to her left hand and stretched out the other so we could shake on it. “And you’re impressive.”
“Well, you’re clearly not a beginner yourself,” I countered, providing a bit of well-deserved praise to reduce the sting of her recent loss.
“Gunner gave us a DVD to practice with in August,” the youngest girl interjected from behind the group’s spokeswoman. “But it’s hard to understand if you’re not face to face with your teacher.”
“So we’ll practice face to face,” I assured her. “Just give me a minute to gather some gear....” And I headed back up to the cottage in search of face masks and blade protectors, glad I’d packed all of my teaching equipment even though Gunner hadn’t bothered to give me a heads-up about my soon-to-be place within his clan prior to my move.
I had this covered, though. So it was hard to blame Gunner for his omission as we started with the basics, giving me time to take stock of my students one by one. They were better than I would have expected after just two months of DVD lessons, but they did have shifter agility to call upon after all.
Still, there were inevitable blunders. “No, not like that,” I corrected, stepping up to place my own hand over the hilt of the oldest woman’s weapon. “You want to—”
“—Get back in the kitchen where you belong!”
We all turned to face the interrupter of our lesson, and I didn’t need to see the pack bonds or smell the sulfur to know there was definite rot developing between this twenty-something bystander and the females armed with swords. What I couldn’t decipher was the reason for the former’s venom. Had he been spurned by one of the young ladies, or was he simply threatened by any shift to the status quo?
“If you’d like to join us,” I told the male carefully while waving in the appropriate direction, “there are extra masks over on the porch.”
“Join you?” The werewolf looked like he’d smelled something vile. And maybe he had with his head stuffed so high up his own butt. “I’d rather f—”
“Move it.”
Yet again, a werewolf had snuck up on me while I wasn’t looking. But this time the arriving shifter was a friend. Tank’s hand landed on the other male’s shoulder so hard the latter stumbled and almost fell to the pavement. Nonetheless, the nameless male puffed up his chest and opened his mouth to spew out more invective...until, that is, his gaze and Tank’s met.
I reached out my hand, wanting to warn Tank that fighting my battles wasn’t going to help matters in the long run. But Gunner’s lieutenant was too intent upon subduing his opponent with a single glance. Sure enough, our unwelcome audience member shriveled beneath Tank’s stare-down, turning without another word and beating it out of sight.
“I guess that’s our cue to get back to work,” I noted, trying to keep frustration out of my voice. How was I supposed to do my job as the alpha’s mate if well-meaning werewolves kept stepping in and doing that work for me?
But this time Tank’s gaze met mine as he shook his head. “They’ll have to finish up by themselves, chica. Because there’s someone here to see you. She says she’s your grandmother.”