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“Right. So, I brought my sword.” I unsheathed the unwieldy thing from where it hung on my belt and presented it to him. “I know it’s not the best. I mean, I got it from this angel who was about to throw it out because it didn’t quite work anymore, but?—”
Aziel regarded the blade with an expression that could only be described as somewhere between horrified and disgusted, then took it from my hand and tossed it over his shoulder.
“Hey!” I called out indignantly.
“That sword is a disgrace to smithery. You’re more likely to hurt yourself with it than an opponent. And besides, it’s not fit for your size and strength. Try this one.”
And with a flourish, he summoned another sword. He paused with the blade half-raised in the air, giving me a critical look. “If I throw this to you, will you be able to catch it, or will I accidentally skewer you?”
“Let’s not tempt fate,” I muttered and stepped closer so I could take it from him.
“Some things never change,” he said so quietly I barely heard it, the hint of a soft smile on his face.
“What was that?” I squinted at him as I accepted the new sword he held out to me hilt first.
“Nothing.” He nodded at the blade in my hands. “You’ll notice this one here is shorter than the other one. It weighs less, too. You’ll be able to wield it one-handed, which leaves your other hand free to grab or punch your opponent or even use a second sword if you want to go for that. Your reach will be lessened, and you won’t have as much leverage for your strikes, but given your size and strength, exertion of brute force should not be your focus anyway. You want to be quick and agile, and a lighter sword will help you with that.”
I regarded the blade. “Makes sense.”
“Well, let’s see you with it. Show me a few moves.”
“All right.” I cleared my throat. “But I have to warn you—I’m a bit clumsy.”
“Oh, I know,” he muttered, and I gave him a good side-eye.
How in the world would he know how clumsy I was? I scrunched up my face and replayed the entire meeting from the beginning, trying to see if I’d tripped at some point. I hadn’t run into a stalagmite, had I? Or…had Naamah warned him? And on that note, what exactly had she told him about me?
“Focus!” he barked.
I jolted out of my musing and had just barely enough time to raise my sword to block his swing. The metallic clang of the blades clashing echoed in the cave, my breath whooshing out of my lungs with the force it had taken to parry his strike. My arm trembled, my muscles quivering from the impact of his blow.
“Good,” he said and lowered his sword. “You’ve got good reflexes. But you should tailor your reaction to your opponent. Right now, you blocked me straight on. I’m bigger and stronger than you, so you know—even before I come at you—that my strike will be powerful. If you use your lesser strength to parry me straight on, it will take a lot out of you. More than blocking someone of your own size and power. What you want to do is deflect while blocking. Don’t absorb the blow like a wall. Instead, steer it away from you and use the momentum to open up an opportunity for a counterstrike.”
I nodded and blew a strand of hair out of my face.
Again he attacked me, and again I parried, this time guiding his strike away while blocking. It really was easier on my sword arm. He didn’t give me time to bask in that, however, and instead came at me again right away, varying his angle of attack. He was testing me, evaluating how I moved, how much I knew, my level of skill.
And he was holding back.
How I could tell, I had no idea, but I had no doubt that he only used a fraction of his real strength and speed here with me.
Back and forth we went, and in between, he’d pause and explain something to me, pointing out my mistakes and correcting my form.
“No, not like this.” Aziel stopped and grasped my wrist.
A trail of pleasurable heat prickled out from his touch, and I bit my lip to keep my inappropriate gasp well inside my mouth.
“See, when you hold your wrist like this,” he continued, his voice rough silk over my senses, sounding far too intimate in the softly lit cave, “you put undue pressure on the joint when you block. Try it like this.” He minutely adjusted my lower arm and hand and then stepped behind me.
The heat of his power rolled up against my back, a thousand tiny pricks of energy against my own, a veritable wave of virility that made me want to lean backward, into the promise of that strength and hardness. Holding back yet another gasp at that feeling almost made me choke on my own breath.
As if to make matters worse, he reached around me, his hand enveloping mine holding the sword, and murmured into my ear, “Your movements should be fluid, like this.”
And he demonstrated how I should wield the sword.
The only thing fluid about me right now was between my legs.
His front was flush against my back, heat blooming where our bodies touched. A whisper of warmth on my skin where his breath intangibly kissed the curve of my neck. He was so close. All of my muscles locked, lest I gave in to the impulse to simply melt into him.
