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Fal’ran gritted his teeth and when Tar swung at him again, he weaved around it and dove for Tar’s knees. A whore who didn’t want to be here and a klah’eel who couldn’t smell. This was the team the army had given him. They hit the mats hard and Fal’ran threw himself over Tar’s bulk to get at his arms before the big man could roll them. What did that say about Fal’ran?
Before Tar freed himself with brute strength, Fal’ran pinned his wrist with one hand, slipped his arm under Tar’s and twisted the man’s limb until he grunted with pain.
“Time!”
At Smith’s call, Fal’ran rolled off Tar’s body and up to his feet. “Are we done here?”
Smith glared at him. “You think that was good?”
Fal’ran jutted his chin up. “I think I won.”
“You were sloppy.” Smith lifted his lip and indignation pulled Fal’ran’s spine up straight.
“I was quick.”
“Your take down was solid, but a more experienced opponent would have flipped you before you even thought about putting that lock on them.” Smith pointed at Tar’s arm as the big man rubbed it. “You’re lucky you even pulled that off.”
Fal’ran narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t luck.”
Smith scoffed and tossed his timer to Tar. “Then do it to me.”
Tar dropped the timer and Bar’in made a choked off noise.
But Fal’ran’s heart leapt in his chest at the dare in Smith’s blue eyes, and a smirk spread across his lips. Who the hell did this human think he was? Captain or not, decades of experience or not, Smith stood a head shorter than Fal’ran and weighed a third less. If he wanted to go toe to toe with Fal’ran, then Fal’ran was more than happy to put him in his place.
Smith replaced Tar in the ring, rolling his neck.
“Alright, Fal’ran,” Smith said as he turned to face him. “Keep your feet. Don’t get sloppy. Don’t get cocky.”
Bar’in snorted from behind Fal’ran. “Too late for that.”
“Worry about yourself, human,” Fal’ran scoffed.
Smith gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fucking kid.” Then he charged.
Fal’ran stumbled to the side just in time to avoid the collision. Okay, so Smith was fast. A jab slammed into his liver, and Fal’ran grunted and backed out of range.
Smith was very fast.
Fal’ran ducked and dodged around Smith’s swings, eyes glued to Smith’s hips as he struggled to stay one step ahead. He was so focused on trying not to get hit again, he couldn’t even think about mounting an offensive. Left, right, forward, back, Smith worked him around the room, always a hairsbreadth away from smashing a hard elbow or knee into some soft part of Fal’ran’s body.
Smith couldn’t smell, and he didn’t care. Tar had been slow and cautious, obsessed with his handicap, and Fal’ran had exploited that insecurity. But Smith moved like he had no handicap at all. Confident, fast, ruthless.
Fal’ran’s blood sang in his veins. This was a challenge. He locked gazes with Smith’s bright blue eyes. This was fun.
Making a split-second decision, Fal’ran held his next dodge and caught Smith’s fist in his stomach. He grabbed the human’s wrist and yanked him forward. Smith twisted, but they crashed into each other and went down in a tangle of limbs.
Smith landed hard on Fal’ran’s chest with a grunt of surprise and his smell flooded Fal’ran’s nostrils.
Oh fuck.
Fal’ran’s mind blanked, and he groaned as a frisson of energy shot to his balls.
Rain.
Smith smelled like the torrent of rain that had poured from the sky on Fal’ran’s first night in the camp. He’d never seen rain before that night, much less smelled it. The richness, the earth, the life, and the decay. The heaviness of the scent on his tongue.
Fal’ran grasped Smith’s damp tank and yanked him closer.
