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“Don’t play games with me. What do you want?” I push, and his hand on my arm tightens as if he senses I’m going to make a run for it. I definitely need to, but not for the reason he thinks. It’s almost nice feeling his warmth around me, and I need to put as much distance between us as possible.
“Me? Nothing. Cassian and Raiden? A moment’s peace,” he offers as an explanation, and I huff.
“Let me know where they find one. I could do with one of those as well.”
He smirks but doesn’t respond, keeping me tucked under his arm as we step into the large gym space for combat class. The entire floor is one giant mat, but otherwise, the room is bare. Everyone gathers in the different colors, confirming who is what without having to look deeper than our clothes.
“Good morning, I’m Professor Tora. I’ll be your combat teacher for the foreseeable future,” he announces, standing in the center of the room with his arms folded over his chest. Everyone gathers around him, and as we get closer, it’s impossible not to note how stacked he is. He’s not wearing colors like the rest of us, but his aura gives an easy read on him.
Nomad. Built. Strong.
He’s a shifter. Thankfully, not a wolf. I’ve had my fill of those forever.
I try to shake out of Kryll’s hold, but it only seems to tighten. “You can get off me now,” I bite, glaring up at him, and he shakes his head without peering down at me.
Fucker.
“I want to know everyone’s abilities from the get-go,” Tora states, pacing in front of us. “Which means we’re going to break off into pairs, bring it to the mat, and see what we’re working with,” he explains, confirming my initial thoughts. Even though part of me knew this was coming, I still feel the nerves threaten to overwhelm me.
I need to remain focused and free of distractions, so I can’t let nerves take over. There’s no room for that on the battlefield, and there’s no room for it here, either.
He starts to rattle off names, going along the crowd before his steps slow in front of us. “Nice, Kryll and Addi, you two can go together.”
Kryll grins, slapping hands with the professor, and my gaze narrows.
“What the fuck is that?” I mutter when Tora carries on.
“Tora has my back.”
“And?”
“And…” He looks at me, puzzled, like he didn’t just give me half a damn explanation, and I know I’m not going to get anything else from him.
Fucker.
We find a space on the mats and face off with each other. I roll my shoulders back, calculating how I can use Kryll’s size against him as he assesses me, too.
“You had room for improvement back at the diner.” My eyes widen at his comment, but I tamper down my defenses and shrug, acting as unaffected as possible.
“Thanks for the assessment.”
“At least I have it easier than she did since you don’t have any daggers hanging off you this time.”
“Says who?” I retort, cocking a brow at him. He’s right, I don’t have any, but he doesn’t need to know that. He wets his lips, looking over me once more to try and find any hints of silver. “Don’t worry, I’ll try and show you the same mercy too. You just have to tap out,” I state sweetly, smiling wide at him, and his gaze narrows.
This may actually be fun. Despite the unfazed exterior he’s always rocking, I can see the smallest crack in his walls, and trying to get to him offers a little excitement.
He charges at me first, testing my reflexes as he swings his arms at me in quick succession. I manage to deflect the first four with my arms, but the fifth catches me by surprise as he changes his angle. His balled fist connects with my stomach, but not enough to wind me. He’s holding back. That’s for sure.
“You hold your arms too high. You need to centralize them a little more so you can shift up and down when needed,” he points out. He’s right. I know he is. But admitting that to him feels like defeat. So I nod and carry on.
Refusing to let him continue with the upper hand, I circle him, hoping to make him feel like prey for a minute. He watches me with amusement as I hook my arms into my chest, fists balled, ready to connect with him.
I extend toward his right shoulder first, and he blocks it effortlessly. I repeat the motion with my other hand, aiming for the same spot as I stretch my leg and kick at his thigh. I catch the weak spot perfectly, and he stumbles, dropping to one knee with a look of utter surprise on his face.
“You focus too much on my hands because you underestimate what I can do. I have legs, too, and they work just as well as my fists.” My pointer is definitely condescending, but I can’t help it.
“You know how to handle yourself. Well, you think you do. I can prove you wrong,” he says, but it’s not an offer. A moment later, he’s on his feet, stalking toward me with purpose in every movement.
