My father’s voice chimed in my ears, chiding me as a teenager over the length. He’d scold me and remind me that the length of my hair allowed an attacker to use it as a handhold against me, but my mother had loved my hair. She’d brush its length every night for me while growing up. I could still feel the phantom touch of her delicate fingers when I thought of her.
Shaking the memories away, I left the bathroom. Retrieving my discarded daggers and sheath I carefully placed them along my hips before shrugging into my leather jacket and pulling on my boots. Heading for the front door, I made sure to lock it on my way out and quietly jogged down the four flights of stairs leading to the apartment entrance. I was exhausted but awake and knew sleep would elude me. I might as well do something productive.
I took a quick jog down to the Hills Fitness Center, a short four miles west from my complex. The jog allowed me to clear my head of any remnants of my past, focusing instead on the cool crisp breeze hitting my cheeks and the lingering moisture in the air. I loved the smell of Spokane air, especially after it rained, and judging from the damp streets, the rain had only recently subsided.
My boot-clad feet thudded against the wet pavement as I turned the final corner leading to the gym. At the door I entered in the six-digit lock code and waited for the light to turn green before opening it.
Two months back James gave me his entry code, telling me I was welcome to use the facilities anytime, and I took him up on the offer on a regular basis. I enjoyed training when no one else was around to watch, it allowed me to really hit it hard, without worrying about what others would read into it.
Once inside I made my way through the receptionist area, not bothering to turn on any of the lights. Using my memory as a guide to avoid stumbling into any equipment, I walked on silent feet towards the back of the gym and headed down an unassuming stairwell shedding my coat along the way.
At the base of the stairs I flicked on the lights, illuminating the large space. Before me stood the gym’s open training room. Each wall lined with a variety of weapons. Everything from swords and axes to maces and scimitars. Everything imaginable lined the walls, some more for decoration than actual use but the room reminded me of home nonetheless.
I ran my fingers along the hilt of several swords to my left before finally selecting a talwar; a Persian sabre with a wickedly curved edge that ran thirty-three inches in length with a six-inch hilt. I tested its weight in my right hand, judging it in around forty-seven or forty-eight ounces. It was crafted to be a thrusting sword, a blade meant to kill in a single strike with deadly precision. With my weapon of choice in hand, I headed to the center of the mat and faced off with my imaginary opponent, taking a moment to center myself. Closing my eyes, I pictured an enemy on an open battlefield. The breeze whistled in my ears and the scent of freshly cut grass tickled my nose. Taking the time to visualize the scene made it that much more real.
Far away from the gym and after inhaling another lungful of air, I opened my eyes and thrust the sabre in a fluid motion, following through with a strike while moving my feet to the left and twisting my shoulders to bring the sabre back for a second strike to my opponents back, coming from my right. I repeated the movement several times until my body remembered the steps without conscious thought.
With beads of sweat dripping down my brow, I changed up my movements and reversed my strikes.
After thirty minutes passed, confidence in my abilities to strike at a would-be assailant from either angle rose. I began to parry and thrust, alternating directions. Left then right, right then left, and then mixed my directions even further. Right, right, left. Left, right, left, and then right, left, right. Changing directions until no pattern remained.
Time blurred, no longer relevant in the haze of my imaginary battle. I was covered in sweat, my clothes sticking to the curves of my body. Deciding to give it one more round I made a swift thrust to my right when all of a sudden my gaze caught on a dark shadow in the corner of the room.
I abruptly stopped my forward momentum and caught the familiar steel colored gaze of a man wrapped in shadows. Dressed in a faded black tee and black denim jeans paired with matching boots, he looked predatory, lurking in the darkened corner of the room.
I winced, my arm lifting to wipe the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my shirt, the dull ache in my neck and shoulders from the vigorous workout telling me I’d been down here for a while.
“I thought we were meeting up later?” I placed the talwar back in its resting place along the wall.
James made a look at his non-existent watch, looking up at me with a quirk of his brow. “It is later,” he said, his voice thick like honey along my senses.
“Right.” I took a seat on the bench holding my jacket. James tossed me a bottle of water he seemed to acquire out of thin air. Not bothering to question where he’d pulled it from, I twisted off the cap and drank half its contents in one long pull.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem.” He shrugged.
“So just how much later is it now? I seem to have lost track of time down here.”
James stepped farther from the shadowed corner to stand about six feet in front of me. Looking down at me from his high vantage point he said, “A little after eight a.m., I stopped by your apartment before heading here. When I knocked and you didn’t answer, this was your most likely destination.”
I nodded. The gym was practically my second home. I came by on an almost daily basis, sometimes multiple times in the same day. The smell of sweat and leather was comforting, reminding me of the home I’d lost.
“Puppy want to play?” I quirked a brow in question.
The frown on James’ face told me he didn’t find me at all funny. That was okay because I found myself hilarious.
“Shouldn’t we head over to meet with the Blackmores?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “We don’t have an appointment so it makes no difference. Besides, they’re grieving, I doubt they’ll be going anywhere.”
He seemed to ponder it for a few minutes. I was sore and if it was already eight a.m. that meant I’d been down here for close to three hours, but a sparring session with James was something I’d never turn down.
I tilted my head from left to right in an effort to loosen my muscles, popping my neck in the process.
“You going soft on me?” I asked, when James remained silent. “If you’re too tired I understand, maybe you should go back to bed and I can pick you up around noon. I know how you like your beauty sleep. Like I said, the Blackmores aren’t going anywhere.”
I was goading him, which wasn’t the smartest thing to do to a werewolf but despite my vigorous workout, my nightmare still weighed heavily on me and I needed an outlet.
Taking one last swig from my water bottle I rose from my seat and walked towards him, stopping just inches away, an arrogant lift to my lips.
“Terms?” I asked.
James rolled his shoulders and turned his head from side to side.
“Up to you,” he said.
Yes! I knew he wouldn’t pass this up.
“No weapons, no claws.”
“Ah, you’re no fun.”
I shrugged, unconcerned. While a sword against James was almost a necessity, it would give him the advantage of shifting and I was definitely not up for James in his wolf or warrior form. His warrior form was a mix between human and wolf, a daunting and ridiculously formidable sight. Being a shifter alone would give James a huge advantage in the strength department but at least in his human form, he was less likely to tear me in two.
“No fire then,” James added.
That was fine by me. I wouldn’t risk lighting anything up in an indoor space anyway. The ache between my shoulder blades was making me stiff. I inhaled deeply, exhaling through my nose in an effort to realign myself and push the slight pain out of my consciousness. Pull
ing in several more deep breaths, James and I faced off against one another, both waiting for the other to strike first.
James’ patience ran out first after a short four minutes and he lunged, arms outstretched as he reached to grab hold of my shoulders. Twisting to the left, I sidestepped his reach while jamming an elbow deep into the center of his back before quickly stepping out of reach once again.
James turned and liquid silver filled his gaze.
The wolf was coming out to play. This could get interesting.
I grinned and gave him a come and get me wave. James let out a bark of laughter before lunging again, this time coming in low, aiming for my stomach. I launched myself into the air narrowly missing his attack and threw myself over him, rolling to my feet once my body hit the mat, but I wasn’t fast enough. As soon as my feet touched the mat, my body was propelled backward as James tossed me over his shoulder.
Tucking in my knees and allowing the momentum to turn me in the right direction, my body landed in a steady crouch several feet away from him.
I heaved out a breath and swept the hair that had escaped my braid out of my face. The ache between my shoulders quickly blossomed into a full on throbbing sensation. I was having a difficult time ignoring it. Standing up slowly, I paced to my right, watching James through narrowed eyes as he did the same.
This time, my attack came and I faked a punch to his left flank before changing direction at the last possible second and striking him in the midsection. My knuckles popped and cracked as they met the hard steel of his abdomen, but I ignored the slight pain and landed a left hook to his jaw.
His head snapped back but only for a second before he was on me, his full weight holding me down against the firm mat. Arching my back and attempting to twist to my left in an effort to dislodge him, he held firm. After squirming for several seconds, I finally caved and looked up into his eyes. They were liquid silver now, a beautiful metallic quality much like mercury.
James had a wolfish grin on his face.
“What are you so damn happy about?”
“I won.”
I heaved as my lungs struggled for air under his weight. “You did not win,” I gritted out. “This isn’t over.”
“Oh sweetheart, it’s over.” He settled his weight more firmly against me.
My chest was on fire, my struggles picking back up, in an attempt to escape. It felt like a truck was parked on my lungs.
James seemed oblivious to my struggles until I heard him cough, his grip on my arms tightening.
“Um hey, Aria, you might want to stop doing that,” he said. His voice took on an unusual husky quality.
I ignored him and continued my struggle.
“You so did not win.” Defeat was not an option.
“Ari, seriously, you need to…stop,” he said on a growl, and that’s when I felt his hard length against my lower stomach.
Shit! I froze.
“Really James?!”
“Hey, I’m a guy, you can only expect so much from me.”
He grinned and I had the sudden urge to smack him upside the head. If only I could get my arm free.
“You going to get off of me?” I asked, rolling my eyes at his pleased expression.
In one fluid movement, James was off me, standing several feet away. I made to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in my shirt and readjusted my braid before standing up. Going for casual.
“Umm, you ready to get moving?” I asked, avoiding eye contact.
James began to laughing, causing me to jerk my head in his direction.
“God, Ari, you are such a prude.”
“I am not!” I snapped.
Still rocking his shit-eating grin he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever you say. Why don’t you go shower while I clean up here. Or better yet, I could join you.”
My mouth hung wide open, was he kidding? He had to be kidding.
James folded over and holding his stomach, began laughing so hard tears leaked from his eyes. “God if you could see the look on your face,” he said between gasping breaths.
I walked towards the locker room, seeming to ignore him as I passed by. When I was only inches away, I gripped his bicep and bending my knees, pulled him over my shoulder as I tucked my body in. James sailed through the air and having been caught off guard, landed in an ungraceful heap a few feet away.
He turned to me, a shocked smile on his face. “You fight dirty.”
I continued on my way. “I’m not a prude.”
James chuckled, “Whatever you say, Ari. Whatever you say.”
After a quick shower in the gym locker room, I was grateful I’d decided to wear layers since I hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes. Throwing my sweat soaked under tank into the empty locker that was reserved for me at the gym, I threw my black cotton tee back on over my sports bra. Dressed and with my hair freshly plaited I made my exit and waited for James by the gym’s front doors.
Playing with the leather bracelet around my wrist I wracked my brain over James’ comment earlier. I wasn’t a prude, despite what he may think. He just happened to be like family and feeling him hard between my thighs was just…weird.
It didn’t help that I’d been experiencing a two-year-long dry spell. One I had no interest in rectifying.
Don’t get me wrong, James was practically sex on a stick and he could easily walk into a bar and walk right back out with any girl of his choosing, but he was also like family. Aside from Mike, James was my next go to person. I looked at him like a brother, albeit a hot brother, but a brother nonetheless. Maybe more like a step-brother. So I wasn’t a prude, I just wasn’t into crossing boundaries and James and I certainly had lines that should not be crossed. His friendship would never be something I’d risk so carelessly and relationships were something I considered fleeting.
I was just about to head outside for some fresh air when a hand touched my shoulder, causing me to practically jump out of my skin.
I turned with a dagger raised before realizing it was only James.
Shit!
“You have got to stop sneaking up on me,” I said, putting my dagger away and swatting him on the shoulder with my free hand. “You know I’m always jumpy after a spar session.”
James quirked a brow before reaching around me and opening the front door.
“You ready to get going?” he asked, sporting a wide grin on his face.
Jerk.
He really needed to get a hobby—one that didn’t include scaring the hell out of me. I followed him outside in response and let him lead the way to his Mustang. Climbing in when I heard the distinct click of the doors being unlocked, I threw on my seatbelt and let myself sink into the leather seats.
We rode in silence to the Blackmore residence. I was too exhausted from our sparring session to make any conversation. Fifteen long minutes later we pulled up to a charming three-story townhouse. James left the engine running for a few moments while we each surveyed the neighborhood through the car windows. The home was beautifully landscaped and it appeared to be your typical Veradale home, narrow and tall. All of its features screamed expensive. All the way from the slate, stone pathways to the detailed wood molding around the windows. Each feature was meticulous and elegant.
I climbed out of the car and walked up the stone pathway leading to the front door. Before I could knock, the door opened and a tall woman dressed in a sleek green, knee-length dress stood before me. Her hair was impeccable, styled in a fall of curls down her right shoulder. She had large gemstones adorning her ears and her makeup was flawless against her pale complexion.
“Mrs. Blackmore,” I said.
“Yes?”
“We’re sorry to bother you,” I said in way of greeting, “but we’d like to speak with you some more about Daniel’s disappearance and subsequent death.” Footsteps sounded from insi
de the house leading towards the front door. Jessica Blackmore looked over her shoulder as a small frown creased her brow.
“I’m sorry but this isn’t really a good time. We were just on our way out…” she trailed off as a middle-aged man stepped up beside her.
“Jessica who is it?” he asked.
“It’s the investigator that was working on Daniel’s case. Ms. Ummm…what was your name again?” she asked, turning back towards me.
“Aria. Aria Naveed.” Obviously I hadn’t made much of an impression on her. Maybe I needed to get myself a Boss 302 mustang so I could be seen and remembered as well.
“It’s Ms. Naveed,” she told her husband, as if he hadn’t already heard.
“Why is she here?” he asked.
Not wanting Mrs. Blackmore to continue playing middleman, I focused my attention on Patrick Blackmore and answered him directly.
“I’m here to discuss the circumstances surrounding Daniel’s abduction and murder.”
“Why? It’s over. Done with,” he said in a gruff voice as he adjusted the burgundy tie around his thick neck.
For some reason, I disliked him on sight. He had sleaze ball written all over him and I wasn’t particularly fond of the way he kept eyeing me up and down like some piece of meat.
“No, Mr. Blackmore, it isn’t over,” James said from behind me. He took a menacing step forward, his tone laced with steel.
I made sure to keep a bland expression on my face as Mr. and Mrs. Blackmore studied James over my shoulder. I could tell that neither one of them knew who or what he was. If they did, their expressions would have changed from annoyance to apprehension at the very least.
I was surprised by their reaction to my visit though. They had just lost a child. Less than two weeks had gone by since Daniel’s disappearance and news of his death only brought to their attention a handful of days ago, yet the two of them looked as if they were going out to celebrate. These weren’t the grieving parents I’d expected to meet with this afternoon. I knew they were working on moving on but the complete lack of emotion was off-putting to say the least
Cursed by Fire (Blood & Magic Book 1) Page 4
