Page 53 of Gift from the Tree

“Why’s everyone in my fucking room right now?” she screams, standing on the bed with the cover wrapped around her. Her hair’s wild, her eyes blazing with fury. Fucking perfection.

“I heard you scream,” Draken whispers, still holding his flames in his hands.

“Yeah, because I woke up to this asshole hovering over me.” She points her finger at me, seething. Fuck me, that wasn’t what I was doing.

“I knocked on your door multiple times and it didn’t wake you up. It’s past dawn,” I tell her, still rubbing at my jaw as my healing kicks in.

It takes her a minute to put together what I’m talking about, but then it registers. “Fuck, training. And I punched you. Shit, sorry.”

In a haste, she tries to run off her bed but gets tangled up in her sheets, falling fast off the side. I’m there in a second, catching her before she face-plants the floor.

“Get ready. We’re late,” I order, placing her down on her feet, holding her tight while she gets her balance. Reluctantly, l let her go and watch her hurry off to the closet.

“Don’t,” I tell Draken, whose thoughts are running wild right now.

“I wasn’t going to. She hit the shit out of you, didn’t she?” he asks with the biggest fucking smile on his face.

“Hell yeah, she’s got a pretty good hook.” I keep my face impassive, but internally, I’m impressed. No one’s been able to hit me in years, unless I allowed it, and here she is about to lay my ass out for scaring her.

“I’m ready. I’m ready,” she announces, crashing out of her closet, still attempting to pull on a shoe, with her hair flying around everywhere.

“Good luck, kitten. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Draken calls to her as he makes his way back to her door.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” she hollers back with a small smile on her lips.

Huh. She’s figured out Draken thrives on approval.

“Hurry up. We’re late,” I say in a firm tone as her thoughts move to more provocative ways to thank Draken for his heroism.

“Yes, you’ve already said that,” she snarks back with so much fucking sass.

“Well, if someone woke up when they were supposed to, we wouldn’t be in a rush now,” I sarcastically reply, not bothering to mention we forgot to give her a timekeeper.

“How was I just supposed to wake up at dawn? I don’t have an alarm clock or anything.”

Damn.

“I’ll get you a timekeeper,” I mumble.

“Oh, so it’s your fault I didn’t wake up.” She snorts out laughing.

“No.” Yes.

“Back to one-word responses, are we?” I push my tongue into my cheek to keep from smiling at her. She’s mouthy in the morning. Well, she’s always mouthy, but there’s no bite behind this sass. She’s trying to be playful, flirty, with me. It’s fucking addictive, dangerous.

I grunt in response, despite wanting to tease her back. I like the challenge of her banter. It’s entertaining, but I’m not here to entertain her this morning. She’s got work to do and I can’t train her properly if she continues to distract me. Luckily, she doesn’t say anything else as we set a fast pace to get to the backyard.

“Thanks,” she mutters as we walk through the kitchen and I hand her one of the water bottles I left on the counter before I came to look for her, immediately opening the cap and drinking down half the bottle.

Fucking hell, she’s going to throw up.

“Start stretching,” I tell her as I point off to the lawn.

I stand there with my arms crossed over my chest and watch as she does some half-ass stretches. She lifts her arms in the air, then bends and touches her toes. Standing back straight, she starts shaking all her limbs out and bounces in place.

What the fuck is she doing?

“All stretched. What’s next?” she says cheerily. Poor thing. I’ll let her learn the hard way today.

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