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CHAPTER 1
Lyssa
The musty scent of stale hay and horseshit wafts through the old barn as I enter slowly. Carefully. I move silently across the floor, scanning for any sign of life. My boots are quiet but I can’t help the wisps of dust they raise that catch the late afternoon rays peeking through the slatted walls.
A flicker of shadow is my only warning before Scarlett drops from the hayloft above in a cascade of loose straw. I only just have time to dive away, but she tucks into a roll on impact and surges back to her feet, fists raised.
I barely deflect her first volley of blows, take a kick to the side that knocks me back. At least it gives a little space between us, a little time to get my bearings. She’s bobbing and weaving with fresh aggression.
We kick into high gear at the same time, but I’m still faster than her, slapping aside her palm strike, and Scarlett staggers to the side, a victim of her own momentum. She recovers quickly, whirling with a high kick.
Careless.
I seize her ankle in an iron grip and yank, upending her balance. Scarlett crumples to the floor in an ungainly heap with a pained grunt.
“You’re overextending,” I tell her, driving my point home by burying my boot in her midsection, knocking the breath out of her. Scarlett coughs and heaves for air, eyes watering, but nods her understanding.
She’s a fast learner. I’ll give her that.
I back off, but Scarlett does this cute little flip to get to her feet as soon as she’s caught her breath, and then she’s on me again, raining strikes down. I counter each one until I spot an opening. I sway inside her guard and cinch her in a crushing embrace, pinning her arms at her sides as I shove her hard against one of the wooden pillars holding up the hayloft. Her back slams against my front and she’s pinned between me and a hard place.
“You lose,” I tell her, putting my hand around her throat in a soft warning. I can feel her wildly pulsing artery thrumming against my palm. “Again.”
Scarlett stills in my restraining hold as we both slow our breath…or I try to, anyway. There’s a surging need low in my belly at the intimate tangle of our bodies, the scent of her in my nose.
Easy, Wolf. Down, girl.
Scarlett tosses a look at me over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in irritation, but widening as I keep her gaze. The full lips part to suck in another breath, and I watch her tongue flick out over the lush curves of her mouth.
I’m suddenly, viscerally aware of every place our bodies meet—my arm around her waist, the curve of her ass cradled into me. My grip on her throat flexes infinitesimally, and I see her jewel-like hazel eyes go darker as her pupils blow wide.
“You done for now?” I murmur. “Or should I put you on the floor again?”
She tries to suppress the full-body shiver, but it’s hard to miss. She gives a sharp nod and I release her with a shove to the side, putting space between us before things can veer into territory I don’t dare entertain.
I finger-comb my disheveled hair back—she didn’t give me time to get it into my customary ponytail—and calm my breathing. “Nice try.”
“I nearly had you.”
I snort. “Uh-huh. Okay.” I head back to the worn gym bag I set down by the barn door, the one I tote back and forth from Elysium stocked with supplies and rations to keep my captive guest alive. I retrieve an aluminum canteen and a crumpled paper sack, tossing them to Scarlett.
Once she’s drunk down half the canteen, Scarlett digs into the paper sack and extracts a gas-station sandwich and a couple of protein bars. She raises one critical eyebrow at me.
“I didn’t have time to grab anything else.” I sound more defensive than I’d like, but she just sighs and tears into the ham-and-cheese. Some days I get lucky and find a meatball sub or something more substantial.
And I feel bad about it. I really do. Scarlett needs to eat a lot more than she is right now, to keep up the muscle that I’m trying to pack onto her. It’s difficult, though, without electricity or running water out here. She has some canned food, but I can’t blame her for avoiding it. Not much fun eating cold chili.
But nevertheless, I frown at her. “You gotta eat more of the canned stuff. You’ll need your strength for what’s next.”
Scarlett just stares back at me with that woodland-shadows gaze. For a while, we pass the time in silence, Scarlett chewing methodically while I pace the perimeter and think about whether I should try another training exercise today. She’s taken to trying to surprise me when I arrive, though it never works. I mean, I already know she’s in here, which doesn’t help her out. But I like that she takes the initiative.
She wants to train. Wants to be better.
If she can just focus, start acting instead of reacting, she’ll be a formidable opponent.
Once she’s drained the canteen and stuffed down a protein bar as well, I check my watch. “I have a half-hour until...” Until what? I have to disappear back to the city? Hunt down more leads on Grandmother’s whereabouts?
Plot Scarlett’s eventual death?
