Lover Mine(54)

As her pace through the fountain intensified and her robing started to get soaked, she leaped out of the pool and jogged around, her fists up in front of her, the punches she threw out pumping the air.

Being the good, dutiful Chosen was not in her hardwiring, and that was the root of all of the problems between her and her mother. Oh, the waste. Oh, the disappointment.

Oh, do get over it, mother dear.

Those standards of behavior and belief were for someone else. And if the Scribe Virgin had been looking for another robed ghost to drift around like a silent draft through a temperate room, she should have picked another sire for her young.

The Bloodletter's vital makeup was in Payne, the traits of the father carrying through to the next generation--

Payne wheeled around and met Wrath's falling fist with a forearm block and a scissor kick to his liver. The king was quick to retaliate and the hammering elbow that returned at her was a concussion waiting to happen.

Fast duck had her barely out of the way. Another kick from her sent the king jumping back--though he was blind, he had an unerring ability to know precisely where she was in space.

Which meant he would guess she would come at his flank. Indeed, he was already spinning his weight around, ready to punch her with the sole of his boot around the back.

Payne changed her mind, hit the ground, and swept both of her legs out, catching him at the ankle and throwing him off balance. A quick jog to her right and she was out of the way of his huge, lurching body; another leap and she was latched onto his back as he landed hard, his neck caught in a choke hold within the crook of her elbow. To gain extra leverage, she grabbed onto her own wrist and used her other biceps as she pulled against his throat.

The king's way of dealing with it? He turtled on her.

His incredible brute strength gave him the power to get his feet under both their weight and rise up. Then it was a jump in the air that had them landing with her underneath, flattened on the marble.

Hell of a bedding platform--she could practically feel her bones bending.

The king was first and foremost a male of worth, however, and in deference to her inferior muscularity, he never kept her down for long. Which irked her. She'd have preferred a no-holds-barred contest of skill, but there were differences in the sexes that were not negotiable and males were simply bigger and therefore stronger.

As much as she resented the fact of biology, there was nothing to be done about it.

And anytime her superior speed got him a good one, it was extra sweet.

The king was nimble as he popped back to his feet and swung around, his long black hair fanning out in a circle before resettling on his white judogi. With the set of dark lenses over his eyes, and that tremendous spread of muscles, he was magnificent, the very best of the vampire bloodlines undiluted with anything human or otherwise.

Although that was part of his problem. She had heard that that blindness of his was the result of all that pure blood.

As Payne went to get up, her back let out a spasm, but she ignored the sharp shooting strike and faced off with her opponent once again. This time, she was the one who came out swinging and chopping, and for a blind male, Wrath's ability to parry her was downright amazing.

Maybe that was why he never complained about his impairment. Then again, they didn't talk much, which was fine with her.

Although she did wonder what his life was like on the Other Side.

How she envied him his freedom.

They continued to go at it, working their way around the fountain, then over to the columns and toward the door that led out into the sanctuary. And back again. And around again.

They were both bruised and bleeding by the finish of the session, but it was no bother. As soon as their hands dropped to their sides and no more hits were exchanged, the injuries would begin to heal up.

The last punch that was thrown was hers and it was a stunner of an uppercut, catching the king's chin like a ball and chain, throwing his head back, that hair once again flying.

They always seemed to agree without speaking when it was time to end.

They cooled down by walking side by side to the fountain, stretching out their muscles, cracking their necks back into place. Together, they washed their faces and fists in the clear, clean water and they dried themselves on soft cloths that Payne had asked to have at the ready.

In spite of the fact that they traded punches and not words, she had come to think of the king as a friend. And to trust him as one.

First time she'd ever had that.

And it was truly just friends. As much as she could admire from afar his considerable physical attributes, there was no spark of attraction between them--and that was part of the reason this worked. She wouldn't have been comfortable any other way.

No, she wasn't interested in something sexual from him or anyone else. Male vampires had a tendency to take over, especially highbred ones. They couldn't help it--it was, once again, a case of what was in the blood determining behavior. She'd had quite enough of someone with an opinion about her life. The last thing she needed was another one of those.