Page 29 of Taste of Fate

“No,” I said, and the vampire arched a brow. “I’m defending myself. So you need to come at me.”

“Fair enough.”

Cyan’s shrug barely registered in my vision before he was on me. I felt a sharp pain in my scalp as he jerked my head back by my hair. His fangs hovered just above me and I reacted on instinct, slashing upward with the dagger.

He closed a hand around my wrist to halt the attack. The blade didn’t even touch him.

Immediately he released me and took several long backwards strides until he was against the far wall. “Not bad, but keep your arm tight to your body, don’t swing wide with it. Protect your vital organs and your throat. You also need to have the dagger up before I reach you.”

The next thing I knew he was on me again, his fist gripping the hair at the base of my skull, teeth pulled back and fangs hovering over my neck. My slash at him was just as slow and uncoordinated as my first attempt. He’d moved so fast, his advice hadn’t even registered before I reacted again. He didn’t even grab my wrist this time, but simply deflected my strike with a lift of his elbow.

“I wasn’t ready,” I panted when he released me again. His arm had wrapped around my waist this time, and I swore his fingers lingered there before he walked across the room again.

No, I had to be reading into it.

“You’ll never be ready when a real attack comes,” was his only reply.

Cyan came at me again. And again. And again.

By roughly the 8th time, I started anticipating his strikes and incorporating his advice into my defense. He didn’t do the exact same thing every time, but I quickly figured out that he would always go for my neck. When I started catching on to one technique, Cyan would switch it up and rush me another way. We practiced over and over so many times, I started to see the similarities and differences for each situation.

Cyan didn’t talk much except for brief pointers. “Tuck your chin. Keep a slight bend in your knees, let gravity help you. If I come from the side, cross your arm over your body and slash downward.”

Mostly, he allowed me to figure it out on my own, which I appreciated. I wasn’t used to fighting with a weapon, but I knew how to target weak spots and break holds when being grabbed. After he encouraged me not to hold back, I had to admit it was satisfying jabbing my elbow in Cyan’s stomach.

“I’ll heal in minutes,” he said against my ear while capturing me in a hold from behind. “Only silver can permanently damage me, remember?”

I made sure to kick the inside of his knee, but stopped myself from shoving the heel of my hand into his nose. Broken noses could heal badly, on top of being painful as hell.

The dagger felt unnatural at first, but after so many repetitive rounds it began to feel like an extension of my arm. I held the blade outward when I slashed up to protect my neck, kept it facing my attacker as I rotated my body away from him.

We went through pretend attacks so many times that my arms and legs ached with exhaustion, but I also felt like a well-oiled machine. I could sense Cyan’s movements and even anticipate his fake-outs. He was always faster than me, but I knew he was doing me a favor by not taking it slow and easy. He wanted me to be prepared for anything, and I appreciated that from him.

I liked that he respected me enough to not coddle me.

“You’re doing well.” After hours of drilling, he didn’t even breathe hard. I, on the other hand, was fighting for air and dripping with sweat. “Let’s take a breather, go through it a few more times, then call it a night. Dawn’s approaching.”

I nodded, lacing my fingers behind my head as I sucked in mouthfuls of air. Across the room, as far away from me as possible, Cyan made a face. It looked something like a grimace, but he looked away and smoothed his expression in the next instant.

“Do I smell bad or something?” I ask through my panting breaths.

“What?” He stared at me, facial muscles tense like he was trying to not make that grimace again. “No, you smell…fine.”

“It’s okay, Cy, you won’t hurt my feelings.” I gave him a knowing smile. “I’m a big girl. And I’ve been sweating for the past hour. I badly need a shower.”

“No, seriously. Your scent is…it really doesn’t bother me.”

“Cy.” I shot him a withering look. “You’ve been standing as far away from me as possible every moment you’re not attacking me. I’m sweaty and ripe, I get it.”

“No.” The word came out more forceful, tinged with a growl. “Nothing’s wrong with your scent. You know what it is? It—” He cut himself off abruptly, rubbing his jaw. “Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.” I took a few steps toward him and immediately noted how he flattened against the wall. “If it’s not how I smell, then what?”

“Don’t come any closer,” he snarled. “I can only handle it up close in small doses.”

“Handle what?”

“Your pulse,” he snapped. “Your heart’s been hammering like a drum the whole time we’ve been training and it’s,” he inhaled a harsh breath and forced it out, “it’s fucking distracting.”

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