“Unless you got anything better planned?”
I pinned him with a dry look. “Yeah, I made plans with that demon who impaled himself on my dagger. He’s coming back to life and we’re going to hang out.”
Zayne grinned. “Then how about you unroll the mats.” A pause. “If you can handle it?”
“I can handle it,” I mimicked, hopping off the stool, “if you can handle the epic ass kicking you’re going to receive.”
He laughed at that, so loudly that I turned to look at him.
“You’re so going to regret that laugh,” I muttered, and stalked to the mats.
As Zayne got down to scrambling, I hefted the surprisingly heavy mats and dropped them to the floor with a loud thunk. After unrolling them and pushing the two large sections together, I wiped the sweat off my forehead and joined Zayne back at the island. Once we’d finished the buttery eggs, I felt a lot more energized, as if I actually had gotten some real rest last night.
We cleaned up, and then I followed Zayne to the mats, stretching out my arms.
“Normally I’d do some warm-ups first.” As he stepped onto the mat, Zayne tugged an elastic hair tie off his wrist, scooped up his hair and secured it in a half-finished ponytail that looked a thousand times better on him than when I tried to do it. “Definitely run a bit at least.”
I frowned as I grabbed my bent elbow and pulled it across my chest until I felt the stretch in my shoulder. “I don’t like running.”
Zayne faced me. “That’s a shocker.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“I figured we’d start with block techniques and takedowns.” Standing there, arms crossed and feet planted with his hips lined up with his shoulders, he reminded me so much of Misha that I had to look away. “Then move on to defensive—”
“So, the basics?” Mimicking Zayne, I crossed my arms. “The stuff I learned when I first begin training?”
He nodded. “Stuff that can always be improved, no matter how much training you have.”
“Huh. And you continue to practice basic blocking techniques?” I raised my brows.
Zayne said nothing.
“I’m going to take that as a no. What makes you think I need to?” I asked.
He tilted his head. “Because I have way more in-field experience than you do.”
“That’s true.” I uncrossed my arms.
Zayne straightened his head, features marked with confusion as if he’d expected more of an argument.
I smiled.
And then I made my move. Shooting forward, I slid down like I was coming in to home base, planting my palms on the mat as I twisted and kicked out one leg. I swept his legs from underneath him, and he went down like a tree, landing on his side with a grunt and then rolling onto his back. Pushing up, I spun and dropped my knees on either side of his hips just as he started to sit up. I shoved my hands onto his shoulders, straddling his stomach as I held him down, tapping into my strength—and the strength borrowed from him. I could feel the strain on my muscles, but he wasn’t moving.
I took a second to soak in his look of surprise and my feeling of pure, unadulterated pleasure in having bested him. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to practice defensive techniques.”
Zayne’s eyes drifted halfway shut. “Touché.”
“Is that all you have to say?” I asked, feeling his chest rise.
One side of his lips quirked up. “What did you and Misha do during training?”
“We fought.”
His brows lifted. “That’s it?”
I nodded. “We fought, and we didn’t hold back.” I shifted my hands to his chest, ignoring how warm it felt under the thin shirt. “Well, maybe Misha did hold back a little, but we fought each other and then I practiced with daggers.”
“The dagger thing is going to be hard to practice in here,” he commented, and I nodded. “But I think we could do that at the compound. There’s a lot of land and a lot of trees to stab.”
“I’m not sure I like stabbing trees, but that will work.”
“What about your eyes? The sunlight won’t be a problem?”
I shrugged. “The sunlight could be an issue. So could a too-cloudy day, but it’s not like I’ll always have the perfect ambient lighting when fighting, so it’s probably smarter to do it under uncomfortable circumstances.”
“Good point.” Zayne looked rather comfy under me, like he was taking a break.
“Are you going to be able to really fight me? Not take it easy?” I asked. “Because I don’t need you to pull punches or kicks.”
“Why do you think I can’t do that?”
“Well, maybe because you wanted to start with the basics? And you’re a nice guy. The last time we fought, you didn’t really come at me. Not as hard as you could’ve.”
“Which is why you were able to get the best of me?”
My lips thinned. “Whatever. I need to know if you can do this instead of just lying there, like you’re doing right now, because like I said, you’re a nice guy.”
That half grin grew. “Maybe I’m just lying here because I’m enjoying myself.”
I blinked. “What—”
Zayne’s hands landed on my hips, and a burst of shock left me unbalanced. A heartbeat later, I was on my back and Zayne was over me, his knees digging into the mats on either side of my hips. I started to sit up, but he caught my wrists and pinned them to the mat.
My heart jumped and my pulse kicked up as he leaned down then stopped when his mouth was within a few inches of mine. The weight of his hands on my wrists and the warmth of his body had my imagination leaping happily into the gutter.
“I don’t like the idea of causing you pain, and that’s going to happen when we train. It’s inevitable.” A strand of hair came loose from his ponytail and fell across his cheek. My fingers itched to tuck it back. Thankfully I couldn’t move my hands. “But I also know that pulling back isn’t going to help you. It’s not going to help me. I know what I need to do as your Protector.”
As your Protector.
For some reason, those words repeated over and over until he said, “And I was telling the truth. I was lying there because I was enjoying myself, not because I’m a nice guy.”
My lips parted as a heady burst of exhilaration swept through me, banging on that file cabinet drawer labeled ZAYNE. I didn’t know how to respond, or even if I should, because it was probably best that I didn’t.
Zayne let go of my wrists and rocked back onto his feet. He extended his hand toward me. “Ready?”
Well then...
Exhaling a ragged breath, I sat up and placed my hand against his palm. His hand curled around mine, the grip warm and firm as he hauled me to my feet with minimal effort on my part.
“Ready.” I gave myself a good mental slap in the face.
We squared off in the center of the mats, and I thought I would have to begin, but I was wrong. Zayne came at me first. I got over the initial shock and darted under his arm. I was quick and light on my feet, but so was Zayne. I came back at him, but he feinted in one direction only to spin, kicking out his leg. I blocked the kick, and at that moment I knew Zayne wasn’t holding back because the blow echoed up my arm, forcing me to take a step back.
And that brought a smile to my face.
Kind of twisted, but whatever.
I spun out to avoid a sharp thrust that would’ve surely hurt and delivered a rather brutal sideways kick to his back.
Zayne grunted but stayed on the balls of his feet as he faced me. “Ouch.”
“Sorry. Not sorry.” I shot toward him, losing the distance that kept him in my central vision, and Zayne must have realized that because he darted right. My breath caught and then exploded from my chest. I couldn’t move fast enough. His fist caught my shoulder, spinning me around. I stumbled back, stuck between irritation and respect. He’d done what he needed to do. Found my weakness and gone for it.
We kept at it, blow after blow. Most I deflected. Some I missed because we were fighting too close and he was too quick for me to gain any distance. Sweat dampened my brow, and my heart pounded from the exertion.
“I’ve taken you down five times,” I told him, dragging my arm over my forehead as we broke apart.
“And I’ve gotten you on those mats six times,” he replied. “Not that I’m counting.”
“Uh-huh.” I charged at him, dipping low and going for his legs, something I was learning was his weakness.
Zayne saw it coming and swung his fist again, but this time I was fast enough, moving to the side so I could see the punch. I caught his fist and twisted.
Zayne tsked and broke the hold all too easily, but I was prepared. I turned on my heel, moving behind him. Planting my weight on one foot, I swung my arms in a low arch to pick up momentum as I jumped off my left foot and spun in the air with my right leg out lower than usual, delivering a butterfly kick to Zayne’s kneecaps.
He went down onto his back as I landed and rose to stand over him.
“We’re tied now.” I grinned despite the ache in my forearms and legs.
Zayne picked himself up. “You’re enjoying this,” he said, knocking the strand of hair out of his face.
“I am,” I chirped.
“A little too much.”