I can’t stop the heat filling my cheeks. “I need a private training room and as many icepacks as you can give me.”
He switches gears surprisingly fast. “Follow me.”
I draw level with Juliet as we hurry to keep up with Cain along the footpath.
I say to her, “We need to treat your wounds first, then we can train.”
She fires at me, “I don’t want your pity.”
I appreciate her pride. I respond firmly: “You won’t get any. What you will gain from me is instruction. Listen to what I say and you’ll put that idiot on his butt in a week’s time.”
She lets out a short laugh. “That’s impossible.”
I find myself channeling Cain’s favorite response, the one he uses when he wants to disagree with me. “Hmm. No.”
Cain takes us to a quiet section of the Realm—a beautiful historical building that was hidden from my view before. “This is the guest house. You can use the training room on the lower level. I’ll have ice brought to you.”
He swings on his heels and I venture along the corridor until we reach a large room containing mats and dummies. No weapons on the walls, but that’s okay for now.
When Cain returns, he is followed by a staff member hauling a trolley with a box of icepacks.
Cain leans against the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest. “All the ice packs I can give you.”
“Thank you.”
Without fuss, I set about bandaging them to the worst of Juliet’s bruises.
When I finish, she asks, quieter now, “If it’s not pity, then … why are you doing this?”
I want to tell her the truth: because I can do something about her situation when I can’t do anything about my own.
Instead, I say, “Because … I like to piss Brenna off.”
She lets out a laugh and then covers it, shooting a wary glance at Cain, who hasn’t budged from the doorway.
I sit down opposite her on a mat. I spend the next hour talking to her about how she moves and how she can compensate for her opponent’s height and weight. She listens, and when she’s ready, I bandage her hands to protect her knuckles and get her to stand up and practice her punches with one of the dummies, correcting her balance as she proceeds.
Cain comes and goes, seeming content to leave us be.
Until I glance up and realize that it must be lunchtime.
Juliet is much more relaxed now. She says, “I have magic and poisons classes in the afternoons. Will I come back here tomorrow morning for combat training?”
“Seven a.m. sharp, please.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
She splays her arms before exiting the room.
Cain lumbers over to me. “You’re a born teacher.”
I shrug. “That sounds like a compliment, Cain.”
He continues, “But you’re missing an element of combat.” He arches an eyebrow in a way I recognize as a challenge. “I said I’d show you how I beat you.”
I square my shoulders and take up position in the middle of the floor. It’s a sprung floor with multiple padded mats scattered around for safe tumbling. It’s nowhere near as harsh an environment as I assumed an assassin’s training camp would be. “Go ahead.”
He takes up position a careful two paces from me. “You either attack or defend, but you always move with impact. I assume that’s the way you were taught. But defeating your opponent isn’t only about making an impression, it’s also about containment.”
I remember the way Cain avoided my strikes and fought back by restraining instead of attacking me. “You … contained me.”
He tips his chin at me. “I did a good job of it, too.”
“Hah! Try it again, Master.”
He blinks at me, clearly thrown.
I take advantage of his distraction to step up and take a swing at him. He sidesteps me but I’m ready for that move, quickly spinning, but this time my hand grazes his torso as I pass by. He catches my hand and spins me back to him, but I glide under his arm, catching and dragging him just slightly toward me. He turns with me, taking a step forward, moving with me.
For the next five minutes, we turn and move in a sort of fight-dance, neither one of us gaining a hold on the other until I decide to let down my defenses, tugging him toward me, chest-to-chest, allowing his arms to fold around me. We slow and stop in that position.
Being contained by Cain is not so bad.
He murmurs, “You adapted.”
Feeling pleased with myself, I tip my head, my hair sliding to the side. “Always learn your opponent.”
He catches my eye. Then he drops a kiss on the side of my exposed neck. It’s the briefest contact. He pulls back, but only a little, his lips close to mine and a hint of dare back in his brilliant eyes.
I find myself wondering … would it be so terrible if I closed the gap and kissed him?
Yes, it would. Remember where you are and why you’re here.
Hating my inner logic, I pull away. I’m not sure if my heart or my body can take more close encounters with Cain Carter.
11
My belongings arrive that evening—all two boxes of them. One contains my clothing. The other is filled with books. If I had left Boston by myself, I would have been forced to leave my books behind.
After my shower, I search for the linen cupboard, determined to make up the spare bed to sleep in it. I drag my boxes into the spare room. Then I finish changing the sheets, smoothing out the surface.
“Grace?” Cain’s call is short, sharp, an urgent edge to it that I haven’t heard before.
I shoot upright, calling back, “I’m in here.”
He appears in the doorway, dressed only in boxer shorts, water dripping from his hair and down his bare chest as if he didn’t stop to dry himself properly.
I brace, preparing for a disaster or an attack. “What’s wrong?”
“It was quiet. You weren’t in the living room, so I thought…” He inhales. Stops speaking. Folds his arms across his chest and then unfolds them.
I study him with surprise. “You thought I left without telling you.”
“It’s possible.”
I draw myself upright, wanting to ease his worry but not sure how. “Cain … I can’t stay here forever, but I won’t ghost on you.”
He rolls his shoulders as if he’s easing the tension out of them. Then he studies the turned-down bed. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to sleep.”
“In here?”
I turn away from him to plump the pillow, happy with how the bed turned out. “Uh-huh.”
There’s a pause behind me. Then … “No.”
“Huh?” My question ends up muffled against his chest as he appears beside me and picks me up, easily hoisting me into his arms, hooking my legs around his waist while I’m still holding the pillow. I end up startled, frozen, the pillow wedged against his side, and as close to him as I was this morning.
His arms tighten, his voice gruff in my ears. “You should sleep in my room so that I’m close by if something happens. I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about.”
It hits me that he’s talking about losing Parker. He hasn’t spoken about her all day. My hurt at losing her friendship is nothing compared to his. He has so much more to lose if she doesn’t forgive him for who he is.
It’s difficult for me to pull back to see his face without making it seem like I’m trying to get free when really … I’m more comfortable like this than I ever expected to be.
I rest my head against his shoulder, dropping the pillow so I can wrap my arms around him. His big chest rises and falls as he inhales and exhales as if he’s measuring his breathing.
I say, “I promise I’m not going anywhere without telling you. Parker was upset, but you’re her brother and she loves you more than anything. She won’t be angry forever.”
He presses his cheek to mine, a rough whisper. “I hope so.”
Despite scooping me up, he has
n’t moved. He has never dragged me anywhere without my permission and his stillness tells me he won’t force me to sleep anywhere I don’t want to.
I swallow my emotions, speaking softly against his neck. “I don’t mind sleeping in your bed if that’s where you need me to be. You make my feet warm.”
Without another word, he turns and carries me to his bed. When he places me down on it, I climb under the blankets without reservation. I wait for him to get in before I scoot over to his side and find his shoulder, the perfect place to rest my head. And his arms, the perfect cocoon around me.
I close my eyes and fall asleep.
* * *
For the next four days, I settle into a cautious routine. Juliet is a quick learner and soaks up my instructions. She has skills—she just didn’t know how to use them. Within days she’s light years ahead of where she was. I spend the afternoons in the archery range, determined to conquer the bow and arrow. Each time, I eventually give up in disgust at my own inability to reliably shoot an arrow and head to the gun range instead, riddling my targets with bullets.
On the fifth morning, two days before Cain’s ceremony, I wake to find that he has let me sleep in. What’s more, he’s not in the bed.
Ouch, my feet are cold.
I pull on socks and emerge into the kitchen to find Sarah at the table with Cain, speaking softly. I’m still in my pajamas, but Cain has seen me like this plenty of times. I ignore Sarah’s raised eyebrows. Cain’s worried expression tells me there are bigger problems at play than her curiosity about our sleeping arrangements.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He growls, “Lutz Logan.”
Sarah leans forward a little, curiosity lighting her eyes. “Cain doesn’t want to tell me who you are, Grace. Or what you’ve done. But Lutz Logan is here for a reason and I need to know why.”
I frown at Cain. “I thought he couldn’t enter your territory.”
“If Slade comes here without permission, I’m entitled to kill him. But Lutz … well, he can come and go as long as he doesn’t get caught.”
I spin to Sarah. “Then catch him.”
She sighs. “I would if I could, but his reputation is earned. He trained with Slade and that makes him … unbeatable. I don’t dare take him on.”
My blood suddenly runs cold. “Has he threatened Parker?”
“No.” Sarah is quick to answer, her hand flying upward in a calming gesture. “He hasn’t come near her. But he knows where we live. Which makes what I came here to ask much riskier.”
“What is it?”
She says, “Parker wants to see you.”
I glance at Cain. “Just me? What about Cain?”
Sarah bites her lip. “Sorry. Only you.”
Whatever Cain feels about it, he’s hiding it well. He is a blank slate right now. I feel guilty about accepting, but it’s an olive branch that I can’t pass up. “Then I’m going.”
Now Cain reacts: “Are you sure that’s wise? I brought you here for a reason. It’s dangerous out there.”
I level my gaze with his. “I beat Lutz before. I’ll beat him again. You know I’ll keep Parker safe.”
Sarah’s eyes are wide. “You beat Lutz? When?”
Oops. I wish I could take back my declaration, but it’s out there now.
Cain is tight-lipped. He folds his arms across his chest.
I press my own lips together, my jaw clenching. Stupid mouth.
Sarah stares at Cain. Then at me. “Other than Hunter Cassidy and Slade Baines, nobody beats Lutz. Unless you’re talking about … Archer Ryan…”
She stands up so fast that her chair topples over. “Oh, damn … you’re a woman.”
I give her a humorless smile and a wave. “Hi.”
She presses her palm to her forehead, struggling to focus on me. “Well, this certainly explains why you’re here but … Archer Ryan is a killer of … so many … and damn Brenna is lucky to be alive.”
It’s almost comical to see an assassin pale at the idea of how many people I’ve killed.
“In other words, Grace is pretty damn unbeatable herself.” Cain’s frown clears as he turns his attention to me. “If you want to go, then you should. The Code makes collateral damage unacceptable, so Lutz won’t risk hurting Parker. It’s the safest way for you to get out of here for a while.”
I say, “I’ll get dressed. Oh … but Juliet is expecting me.”
Cain stands. “I’ll train her this morning. She can put her new skills to the test on someone twice her size.”
I glare at him. “Don’t intimidate her. Her confidence is still growing. I don’t want a setback.”
“I don’t want her to fail, Grace. As I said, she excels at poisons and her physique makes her the perfect assassin. Some of the most impressive assassinations are the ones nobody knew were kills.”
“Okay. I’m trusting you, Cain Carter.” But I pause in the doorway, frowning. “Who is Hunter Cassidy?”
Sarah has recovered enough to sit down. “The daughter of the Glass Fox. The one I was telling you about.” She pales again. “Oh. But the Glass Fox was the one who protected your father…”
My hand clenches around the doorframe. “Hunter beat Lutz?”
Sarah says, “She’s one of the few assassins he doesn’t mess with.”
Cain leans back in his chair with a dry laugh. “Nobody messes with Hunter.”
I allow myself to smile. “Then I like her already.”
* * *
Parker gives nothing away when she meets me at the door to Cain’s apartment. She is dressed casually in jeans and a black sweater that draws out the dark highlights in her hair, but she’s also wearing heels and makeup, making me underdressed. Since I got my own clothing back, I’ve shunned the clothes Cain provided. My clothing leans toward functional instead of pretty. Take my boots, for example, the heels of which can break ribs even though the leather is scuffed beyond belief.
Parker’s green eyes remain level with mine. “Apparently you need a dress for the ceremony this Saturday. I’m taking you shopping.”
I am completely prepared to let her call the shots today. Whatever she is—or isn’t—willing to do or talk about is fine with me. If we keep our conversations to fashion, then … well, actually I probably won’t have much to say since dresses are foreign to me.
When she closes the door behind her, I ask, “Sarah isn’t coming with us?”
“I asked her not to. It’s just you and me.”
We travel silently in the car. Every now and then, Spencer glances back at us. I guess the silence is getting to him, too. We travel along the Colorado River and into downtown Austin, stopping in the 2nd Street District. I trail Parker along the sidewalk, hesitating outside the door of a boutique fashion store that Parker confidently leads me to.
I pretend to study the window display as I use the reflection to assess the two guys across the street who have been following us for the last two minutes. I don’t recognize them as Horde assassins, although I haven’t met all of them so I can’t say for sure. Cain could be overprotective. Or they could be Legion. Or they could be Lady Tirelli’s people. I won’t know for sure until they make a move.
For now, they seem content to watch us.
Inside, the shop contains a glittering array of evening dresses. I can’t see price tags, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that nothing will cost less than a thousand dollars.
I say, “Parker … I’m happy to try things on, but I can’t afford any of this.”
She waves a credit card at me. “Cain can.”
I frown. “Revenge spending?”
She lowers her eyes. “Actually, no. I have his permission. He wants you to choose something yourself. Or so Sarah told me.”
Parker quickly picks out three dresses and propels me toward the dressing room. “Try these on for starters. I’ll find more.”
The dressing rooms are enormous—large enough to accommodate two women side-by-side in puffy dresses. I
t’s early enough that I’m the only one here. I smooth down the sides of the dress I try on first, jumping when Parker slips a pair of heels under the door and flips a push-up bra over the top. Despite wearing heels, she walks as quietly as her brother.
She calls through the door, “Try these on and come out when you find a dress you like. I’m coming back with more.”
I slip on the push-up bra, pull on the heels, and slide on the next dress. It’s baby blue with spaghetti straps and an embroidered corset, the fitted skirt overlaid with sheer panels that float down to my toes.
I almost look … like a woman.
The price tag makes my stomach sink. I could buy a lot of food for that amount.
I reach back to pull the zipper when the corner of the dressing room shifts at the edge of my vision.
I freeze, the back of my neck prickling.
The air shifts again.
Damn. I’m in trouble.
A dangerous voice at my shoulder whispers, “You should stay dressed, sweetheart.”
12
Lutz Logan materializes right behind me, a menacing form blocking the exit.
I grab the hand he lowers toward my shoulder, twisting and pushing. He drops, following the curve of my push so that I don’t break his wrist. He lands on one knee, but his other hand snakes out, catches me behind my own knee, and pulls. At the same time, he maintains hold of my other hand.
I have nowhere to go but down, straddling his bended knee. Right where he wants me. Two big arms whip around me, crushing me close, pinning both of my arms at my sides. Within seconds, he has restrained me and … damn … he’s strong.
But I still have a trick or two up my sleeve.
I stop struggling and scowl at him. All I need is for him to relax just the smallest amount…
I say, “Since you don’t have wings, I assume you were in here the whole time.”
His amber eyes crinkle at the corners. His arms shift, but not as much as I want.
He says, “I promise I closed my eyes when you got undressed.”
I hiss, “Sure, you did.”
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 50
