by Sharon Kay
Ria smirked, remembering how Arawn had rolled his eyes at Gin’s list, but agreed.
Now Ria entered the main gym and walked across the blue mats, past the impressive array of weapons mounted on the wall, to the free weight area. I can start small. She did fifty jumping jacks to warm up, then picked up a twenty-five pound weight and propped one knee on a bench.
Checking her position in the mirror, she began a series of tricep curls.
Gods, it felt good to use these muscles. She finished up and started a series of squats. With each strain and stretch, her muscles felt better and better.
After she’d worked every group, she took a long drink of water and looked around. No one else was here. No one would know if she pushed herself, really pushed hard.
But Ashina would know tomorrow. Ria blew out a breath and her gaze fell on a rack of swords. They ranged from thin, delicate Italian-style long swords to heavy, two-handed Celtic claymores. Silver and gleaming, they were just begging to be used. She decided to risk the healer’s reproach.
Picking up a thin sword, she hefted it in her hand. She’d used this weapon often. It was her go-to sword, though she could use any blade and preferred daggers. But right now she wanted a challenge. She walked to the center of the blue mats and started a sequence of moves she knew well. After a minute, she switched to her weaker hand—her left one. She had to be able to use both, and her left side was slightly weaker in general.
Plus, her left leg was the one that had been sliced to the bone during the battle.
It had healed with no scarring and no apparent soreness, but then again she hadn’t really tested her quadriceps yet.
She swung and darted, whirled and rolled. Muscle memory took over and she lost herself in a series of feints and parries, visualizing any number of demons as the enemy. That damn Serus who had breathed on her—
Thud.
The gym’s door slammed closed. She hadn’t even heard it open.
She turned and stared, as her heart rate tripled and butterflies zoomed inside her stomach.
Arawn strode toward her, shirtless and with damp hair. The faint scent of chlorine clung to him, mixing with his own scent of wild grass and musk. He wore low-slung sweatpants and had a towel flung haphazardly over one shoulder. He appeared relaxed, but she knew he could pounce faster than she could take a breath.
Her feet stayed rooted in place, her muscles frozen but her blood heating. Unable to move, she was riveted by his intense physical perfection. His eight pack abs made her mouth water and the sinewy cuts below his hips begged for her caress.
His nostrils flared and she knew he was picking up the scent of her sweat. That didn’t bother her as much as the fact that if she didn’t calm her thoughts, he’d know she was aroused as well. Damn it!
He gave a chin lift to her weapon. “Opposite hand?”
She nodded, only partway stirred from her Arawn-induced trance.
“That’s one way to jump back into it.” He dropped his towel on the mat and crossed to stand in front of her. He was barefoot and still towered over her. “You get clearance for this?”
“Kind of.” Her voice came out too breathy.
“Kind of?” He tilted his head. “I’m guessing that means Ashina okayed a light workout and you took it a step further.”
“This is a light workout.” She held up her sword. “See? Not heavy at all. And anyway I couldn’t sleep.”
“That makes two of us.” He raked a hand through his hair, making muscles ripple along his arm.
“How many laps did you swim?” she asked. Her brain scrambled through reasons to keep him talking, keep him there with her longer, before he had to go take care of more official business.
“A hundred.” His gaze dropped to her hands. “Switch back to your good hand. Let me see how you’re doing after a month in bed.”
Something about the way he said a month in bed made her skin prickle with awareness. But all she could do was swallow and agree. Part of it was ingrained, a soldier listening to her commander. But part of it was simply the knowledge that he wanted to check on her out of true concern for how she was recovering.
She transferred the sword to her right hand and started her routine again. Her muscles buzzed with energy as she swung left and right, forward and—
Whoosh!
The air left her lungs and she gasped. She blinked, finding herself on her back, looking up at the fire bulbs that lined the ceiling. Her left foot was caught in Arawn’s grip. She tugged it free, leaped to her feet, and scowled. “That wasn’t fair.”
“You can’t afford distractions. Where was your head?”
She blew out a breath and shook her sword hand. “Here.”
“That’s only one of many places your head needs to be.” His voice bore no reproach, just facts.
“I know.” Be aware of everything. Above, around, behind, below. That was one of the first rules Watchers learned. And she hadn’t been. But dammit, he was so close and his chiseled muscles taunted her. “Let me try again.”
He nodded and chose a blade for himself. “That’s what I want to hear.”
She dove back in to her moves, this time pouring on even more concentration. And this time, when he moved to block her, she was ready. She anticipated his arm trying to twist hers at an awkward angle, and ducked out of the way.
He nodded. “Better.”
She went on the attack. Not trying to injure him, but trying to finesse her offensive moves. She swung as fast as she could, swung low and high, but he was faster. With fluid grace, he blocked her every time. As she expected.
Abruptly she stopped. She had one move left, one that no one had ever been able to stop, block, or anticipate. But she never used it on fellow Watchers.
She walked to replace the sword and turned to face him. “You win.” She spread her arms wide.
“This wasn’t about winning, Ria.” His dark eyes tracked her as he set his own sword on a table. “I need to assess your progress and decide when you’ll be ready to go back into the field.”
“And?” She took a long drink of her water bottle. She was sweating more, though this was the lightest sparring she’d done in years.
“You look good. But it’s only been a week.”
“I’m getting stronger every day.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He stepped closer. “But we can’t take chances with a predatory demon who’s hell-bent on killing you. If I give you an assignment too soon, things could get ugly.” He shook his head.
“I still have my spin,” she murmured. He was a foot away now. Clearly in her personal space. Thick pectorals blended into massive shoulders covered by smooth tanned skin. A few small scars dotted his torso. Even though Lash demons healed at an accelerated rate, some injuries did leave a mark. And after eight hundred years, she imagined his body could tell the stories that his mouth told her in her sleep.
Her spin was her trump card. The one move she could perform in a fight, in close quarters or in wide spaces, the one that always ensured her victory. She was able to rotate her body so quickly that she was a literal blur of motion. And with her dagger in hand, she became a cyclonic killing machine. Her blade would slice deeper on each rotation.
Mathias had been gifted with a superior nose. Ria had gotten the speedy spin. One which she hadn’t tried since waking from her coma, simply because she always assumed she’d be able to do it.
“Have you tried it since you woke up?” he asked.
“No.”
He rested his hands on his hips, drawing her attention to the V of muscle pointing down. She should look up, she really should, but he was way too tantalizing, too close. Hard muscles, hard—
“I don’t want to risk sending you out yet.”
“Okay.” What else could she say, with him so near he scrambled her brain? With effort, she met his eyes. “Um, well then, it’s good that things are relatively quiet right now.”
He nodded. His hair had partly dried, and several strands sli
d forward to frame his cheekbones. “I like quiet.”
“Uh-uh.” She smiled and shook her head. “You like a good brawl. You know it.”
A low chuckle started in his throat. “Touche, Tirianna.” His eyes dropped to her lips and lower, and he made no move to back up. She remained at the rack of wall-mounted swords. Nowhere to go, except into his arms.
Arawn fought for control. Fought the urge to pin Ria to the wall, strip off her tight workout clothes and kiss her until she begged him to fuck her.
But where was his honor? His loyalty? And his love for the female he’d once pledged his soul to?
It was centuries ago. He’d had years to bury the hurt. Quick fucks were all he engaged in now.
Ria knew him. She was right—he did like a good fight. Or an ugly one. Whatever. He was a warrior to his core.
But Ria wasn’t a female he could sleep with once and be done with. Not for a million reasons, least of all that she was in his ranks and her older brother was in his inner circle.
Not because she was brave, strong, and loyal. She fought harder than anyone he’d met, because she felt she was representing the females, as she liked to put it. She had honor and integrity. But the air crackled between them and when her breath hitched, another strand of his control snapped.
He raised a hand to touch a stubborn curl that had escaped her ponytail. Bright as the sun, thick and bouncy, her hair was sexy. More than once, he’d thought about what it’d be like to wind a section around his fist as he took her hard.
Her orange blossom scent had teased him the minute he walked out of the pool room and here, intensified by exertion, she was more tempting than she’d ever been. He inhaled, drinking her in, and caught an unmistakable fragrance that ratcheted his lust to a dangerous level. Ria was turned on.
His cock hardened and another thread of control snapped. Unable to resist her dewy skin, he slid his fingers higher to caress the side of her neck.
She turned toward his hand. Her lush lips were millimeters away. Her breath skated across his fingers, sending an arrow of heat to his groin. Her hand came up to circle his wrist, then her fingers slid along his forearm. Light, gentle, but teasing in circles as she inched toward his elbow. Eyes as blue as a tropical pool met his in a silent question.
And why wouldn’t she, after the way she woke from her coma? Seeing him holding her hand?
He stopped her wandering fingers. Her touch felt too good. She shivered at his grip, and he knew she wasn’t cold. His acute senses detected the increase in her heart rate, heard the quicker thumping in her chest, and saw the pulse ticking at the base of her throat. Her grip on his arm tightened and she tilted her face up, pink lips parted.
His free hand clenched into a fist as desire and denial fired arrows through his heart. His cock throbbed, pushing at the cotton of his sweatpants. “Ria…” His hips ached to flex into her soft curves.
“Hmm?” Her breaths came quick and choppy.
Words wouldn’t form on his tongue. One kiss. This female. Now. His body fought his mind, shutting down all logic.
Not giving her a chance to move, he closed the small distance between them, covering her mouth with his. Demanding her response. And hell, she was ready for him. Her soft, eager lips tasted like heaven and his body jolted free of any hope of restraint.
A primal growl reverberated up from his lungs. His free hand went to her hip and his other one tightened at her nape. He pushed her back, moving to the side to avoid the rack of sharp weapons behind her.
She was warm, curvy, and urgent against him. Alive and healthy, and stronger every day. Her hands knotted in his hair and held tight. A tiny whimper escaped her lips.
He took advantage of her open mouth and plunged inside. Gods, she was perfect. She pulled him closer like she couldn’t get enough. Her tongue lashed against his in velvety strokes that made him conjure up a mind-numbingly erotic image of her on her knees, doing exactly this to his cock.
Her nails dug into his skin. She rubbed her front against him, mixing their scents and giving his length enough friction, even though their clothes, that a low snarl began deep in his throat. He smacked her ass.
She gasped and blinked up at him, eyes bright with a turquoise glow. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he cupped her breasts over the stretch fabric of her clothing and she moaned in pleasure.
Those sweet breasts had been straining the confines of her bra since he’d walked in. And now he couldn’t resist. A tiny voice warned that this was more than a kiss, had always been more than a kiss since before it even started, but he ignored it as the primal demon in him demanded more.
He dipped his head to lick down into her cleavage. Maybe he was a bastard, but he’d always liked her breasts. Big and tempting, and of course he’d never seen them bare. But hell, right now he wanted to tear this scrap off her. He rocked into her, needing to assuage his aching shaft.
Ria panted and threaded her hands into his hair. She moaned, a sound so full of need it stole his breath.
He moved over the swell of her breasts and bit her nipple through her clothing. Her body jerked. He repeated the process on her other side, then kissed his way up her neck, rough and hungry. Wanting her breasts, her throat, her shoulders, any skin that he could lick and mark.
All thought stopped as she dragged her warm hand down his abs to tug at the waistband of his pants. She dipped two fingers inside the edge and his cock flexed in response, though she hadn’t touched him yet.
The image of her naked in his bed loomed in his mind. He’d fuck her over and over until everything in his room smelled like the two of them combined in a hundred carnal acts.
A breathy moan escaped her lips before he could corral the wayward thought. Her hand tightened in his hair, nearly making him forget…
He’d only had one female in his bed. Sure, he’d been with plenty of them over the years, especially during the fertile seasons. But never, ever in his own room.
He pulled back, breath ragged, and dropped his hands as memories savaged his brain.
Her eyes went wide. She drew her hands to his chest, lingering but maintaining contact. She shook her head in question, blinking.
“I’m not the male you want.” He grasped her hands and moved them away from him, down in front of her body.
“I didn’t ask you to be anything, other than who you are.” Big eyes blinked in confusion, and if he had to guess, a sliver of indignation.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said. “It’s better that way. For you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “First of all, I’ll decide what’s best for me.” Her eyes flashed blue fire. “And second…” her tone softened, “how could you think I’d judge you? We all have a past.”
“Mine’s more complicated than most.”
“I like complicated.”
You have no idea. He just shook his head, unable to put words to the horrors that he saw reflected in every mirror and those that lurked in his memories.
She tilted her head. “Why did you spend so much time in my room while I was in my coma?”
Ah, hell. What could he say? “Fuck, Ria.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Your room was quiet.”
“I don’t really think it was the quiet.” Her words were soft, her expression convinced.
Smart and straightforward. That was Ria to the core. She wouldn’t be satisfied until he answered honestly, and she deserved that much anyway. “You want to know why I visited you so often?”
She nodded and arched a brow.
“I wanted to see that you were okay. And yeah, I could have asked the healers or Mathias for updates. But I needed to see for myself. I needed to see you…” He rubbed the back of his neck, aching to touch her again but knowing he shouldn’t. “See every change, every hint of change, for myself. I couldn’t get anything done otherwise.”
She stared up at him, lips parted.
“So there’s your answer.” Part of it. He wouldn’t fess up to
the other fact. That being in her presence calmed his restless heart in a way he couldn’t begin to describe. He’d pushed any thought of anything with her away for so long, that when the possibility of her death loomed, a part of him bled in anguish and could only find peace in proximity to her. In seeing the color in her cheeks, hearing every intake of breath, every movement beneath her eyelids as she dreamed.
And that made no sense. He’d only felt this way about one female, and never expected to again.
“I have to go.” His voice came out rough and gravelly, choked by emotion that had no outlet. He turned and walked out before he said anything that would make this situation worse, or gods forbid, give her the idea that there was a chance for more. Or that she could somehow change him or help him.
Redemption was only a concept. One he could help others find.
It would never be in the cards for him. Not when evil simmered in his blood.
C
HAPTER 5
DAWN BROKE OVER THE GRASSY acres of the Watcher compound as Ria completed her tenth running lap along the outer perimeter. After that encounter with Arawn, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t sit still, and couldn’t stay in the training room that hung heavy with his scent and presence.
Pink streaks pushed at the dark edge of night as Ria finally stopped running. Hands on her thighs, she gulped air and wished like hell she’d thought to bring a water bottle. She’d left too fast and her mind had been scrambled by that kiss. Her lips and neck still tingled, despite the hours that had passed.
What the hell had happened?
She resumed walking at a fast clip so her muscles wouldn’t cramp from the sudden stop. He’d been into her, no doubt about it. The monstrous hard-on taunting her through his pants may as well have been a neon sign. Then he had to go and open his mouth.
