swings.
“I figure you can use all the help you can get,” Liam answered, cracking each of his knuckles.
“This should be interesting,” Raif whispered in my ear. “Liam has an axe to grind with Myles.”
“Over what?”
“What else.” Raif shrugged. “A woman.”
Wasn’t it always? If they couldn’t put their petty bullshit aside for a couple of minutes, I didn’t think I wanted either of them. Liam looked like he wasn’t worried about the outcome of the sparring exhibition. In fact, his sheer size and hulking muscle coupled with the bored expression on his face would have sealed the deal for any odds maker.
But my money was on Myles.
In the course of my life, I’d learned it was the unassuming ones you had to watch out for. And those shrewd, calculating cat eyes didn’t miss a thing. Myles observed every minute shift of Liam’s weight with an intensity that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Myles was deadly. Myles was a killer. And I would know.
Liam circled Myles, his arms like tree trunks swinging with every step. Myles smiled, inviting the challenge, twirling the
bokken
once, and then again. He lunged forward, jabbing with a quick, well-maneuvered extension and Liam jumped back, surprising me with the deftness of motion. Their battle dance continued: lunges, reactions, and still Liam circled his prey. No words passed between them, not the cocky, self-absorbed bragging that accompanies an approaching fight. These guys were dead serious. This wasn’t a game to them. It was personal.
Raif shook his head in disgust, apparently rethinking his decision to let them air out their differences on the mats. He took a step forward, and I threw out my arm, stopping him. “You said Liam had an axe to grind. Let him do it.”
“Perhaps this isn’t the place,” Raif said.
“If they don’t do it here, they’ll go somewhere else to settle the score. And believe me, if they take the fight out of this gym, one of them isn’t going to walk away from it.”
Raif relaxed, but I knew he wasn’t happy. He was all about control and in the blink of an eye, his carefully orchestrated demonstration had turned into a full-on grudge match. At least here, under supervision, we could make sure both parties lived to fight another day. And in my opinion, letting the testosterone run its course was the best and only option.
Myles lunged again, this time with an upward cut, and rather than jump out of the way, Liam parried the thrust with his arm. The
bokken
cracked as it made contact and I couldn’t help but wince. Liam’s arm had to have hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t even flinch. I had to give it to him, the guy was tough.
I stole a glance at the candidates lined up against the wall, watching, like me, with intense interest. The one named Louella leaned in to whisper in the ear of the female standing beside her and she nodded, her eyes wide. It impressed me that none of the Shaedes seemed to take a side. Instead, they kept their expressions mostly neutral. Taking in the goings-on with ambiguity solidified the fact that ultimately they were all on the same team. I admired them for that.
“Why can’t I just take all of them?” I asked Raif, my gaze still passing over the candidates. My eyes met feral amber, and I stopped. Stared straight through the kid giving me look for look.
“Four.” Raif said. “Numbers aren’t open for discussion.”
I wanted to argue, but I’d lost my train of thought. By my estimation, the Shaede ignoring the fight to stare straight at me was the youngest man in the room. Probably even younger than my own one hundred and twenty-one years. His eyes were lighter than Xander’s by a couple of shades. Translucent and wild. White-blond hair, shining, thick, and wavy reached to about his collar, giving the impression that he ought to have a skateboard tucked under his arm. I couldn’t shake the look in his eyes, though. As I took him in, I wondered what had happened
“I figure you can use all the help you can get,” Liam answered, cracking each of his knuckles.
“This should be interesting,” Raif whispered in my ear. “Liam has an axe to grind with Myles.”
“Over what?”
“What else.” Raif shrugged. “A woman.”
Wasn’t it always? If they couldn’t put their petty bullshit aside for a couple of minutes, I didn’t think I wanted either of them. Liam looked like he wasn’t worried about the outcome of the sparring exhibition. In fact, his sheer size and hulking muscle coupled with the bored expression on his face would have sealed the deal for any odds maker.
But my money was on Myles.
In the course of my life, I’d learned it was the unassuming ones you had to watch out for. And those shrewd, calculating cat eyes didn’t miss a thing. Myles observed every minute shift of Liam’s weight with an intensity that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Myles was deadly. Myles was a killer. And I would know.
Liam circled Myles, his arms like tree trunks swinging with every step. Myles smiled, inviting the challenge, twirling the
bokken
once, and then again. He lunged forward, jabbing with a quick, well-maneuvered extension and Liam jumped back, surprising me with the deftness of motion. Their battle dance continued: lunges, reactions, and still Liam circled his prey. No words passed between them, not the cocky, self-absorbed bragging that accompanies an approaching fight. These guys were dead serious. This wasn’t a game to them. It was personal.
Raif shook his head in disgust, apparently rethinking his decision to let them air out their differences on the mats. He took a step forward, and I threw out my arm, stopping him. “You said Liam had an axe to grind. Let him do it.”
“Perhaps this isn’t the place,” Raif said.
“If they don’t do it here, they’ll go somewhere else to settle the score. And believe me, if they take the fight out of this gym, one of them isn’t going to walk away from it.”
Raif relaxed, but I knew he wasn’t happy. He was all about control and in the blink of an eye, his carefully orchestrated demonstration had turned into a full-on grudge match. At least here, under supervision, we could make sure both parties lived to fight another day. And in my opinion, letting the testosterone run its course was the best and only option.
Myles lunged again, this time with an upward cut, and rather than jump out of the way, Liam parried the thrust with his arm. The
bokken
cracked as it made contact and I couldn’t help but wince. Liam’s arm had to have hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t even flinch. I had to give it to him, the guy was tough.
I stole a glance at the candidates lined up against the wall, watching, like me, with intense interest. The one named Louella leaned in to whisper in the ear of the female standing beside her and she nodded, her eyes wide. It impressed me that none of the Shaedes seemed to take a side. Instead, they kept their expressions mostly neutral. Taking in the goings-on with ambiguity solidified the fact that ultimately they were all on the same team. I admired them for that.
“Why can’t I just take all of them?” I asked Raif, my gaze still passing over the candidates. My eyes met feral amber, and I stopped. Stared straight through the kid giving me look for look.
“Four.” Raif said. “Numbers aren’t open for discussion.”
I wanted to argue, but I’d lost my train of thought. By my estimation, the Shaede ignoring the fight to stare straight at me was the youngest man in the room. Probably even younger than my own one hundred and twenty-one years. His eyes were lighter than Xander’s by a couple of shades. Translucent and wild. White-blond hair, shining, thick, and wavy reached to about his collar, giving the impression that he ought to have a skateboard tucked under his arm. I couldn’t shake the look in his eyes, though. As I took him in, I wondered what had happened
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