Page 62 of Vengeful Guard

“So, we still have no idea how long you’ll be stuck here with me?”

He frowns but shakes his head again, getting a forkful to his mouth.

Is he avoiding talking to me? Why?

“Do you want to do something today?”

He lifts one brow, looking at me. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Watch a movie, go to the park. Something.”

His eyes are on me for a few seconds, but he makes no move to answer.

“Well?”

He lowers his eyes to his dinner. “It’s better we stay in. You can watch a movie if you want. I’ll be in my room.”

When he’s done eating, he picks up his plate, washes it, and leaves the kitchen with a, “I’ll see you tomorrow for training.”

I don’t know how long I’ll tolerate him ignoring me like this. I’ll let him have his say for now, but this will not last forever.

I’m still not strong enough to beat him. At least, he doesn’t think so. I’ve been practicing a lot more than he knows, though, so I’m ready to put it to the test.

Kael’s been working the smaller punching bag, his hair falling over his face, muscles glistening as he hits it over and over.

The smaller sparring sessions we’ve had over the last couple of days gave me a few ideas, and I think I’m ready for him to stop avoiding me. It’s time to claim that bet.

As my eyes find him, my panties get wet.

Why does he have to look like that? Every muscle bulges when he punches the bag, and it’s so hard not to stare, to focus on my own training.

He stops and gets two bottles of water, throwing one my way.

I catch it, open it, and take a drink. “So, when do we get to spar again?”

“Anytime you want, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” I mumble.

He just grins, throwing his hair out of his face, his blue eyes bright.

“Fine, I’ll set the mats, so we can go for it.”

He puts them on the floor, stretching them out so a big area is padded.

I stand on the end of the mat, looking at him, and he makes a come-hither gesture with his hand that makes my skin heat up.

He’s grinning wickedly, his muscles and tattoos on display.

Shit.

I take a breath and step toward him, kicking out with my right leg. I think I’ve got him, but he grabs my ankle, and I go down on my butt, squealing.

He’s still holding my ankle, my leg in the air as he looks down at me.

“Gonna have to do better than that, little princess.”

I growl in the back of my throat, annoyed, and I stand up, putting my hands near my face while he does the same.

---