Page 9 of Marked By Night

The only source of illumination is the harsh brilliance from each flash. My eyes narrow, straining to see, but there’s no use. I’ll have to rely on my other senses to follow his movements.

My fingers flex as I wait for the opportunity to strike, biding my time. A droplet of sweat travels down the side of my face then drips to the floor, soaking into the mat where countless others have come before me.

There! A shift in the air to the left.

As soon as I reach out, his aura is suddenly gone, leaving me momentarily confused. The faint chuckle lets me know he finds it amusing that he’s eluding me so easily. My jaw grinds together. I’ll make him regret his amusement, as soon as I’m able to get my hands on him.

Instead of reacting to his taunt, I make myself take a deep breath. I focus on keeping my breathing slow and even, despite my racing heart. Seconds later, the air shifts and he goes for my right, forcing me to react quickly. I manage to avoid his fist by dancing to the side and he slinks back to the shadows once more.

Somehow, I can sense him circling me despite the darkness. I suppress a shiver. There’s such finality in the dark. Hopefully, the power comes back on soon.

As if the universe hears my silent thought, the power bursts back to life, briefly blinding me. “I’m Made of Wax, Larry, What Are You Made Of?” by A Day to Remember blares out of the shitty overhead speakers as my playlist resumes, distracting me.

Rookie mistake.

Pain blooms across my abdomen, making it hard to breathe. My hands drop as I pant harshly through the pain. When I lift my head, my eyes connect with Benjamin’s black ones. He smirks, watching me struggle as he goes in for the kill.

There’s no mercy in his eyes whatsoever as he takes me down to the hard-unforgiving mat. The force of his shoulder crashing into my side steals the air from my lungs. For a moment, all I can do is lay there.

Ben’s chest rumbles as he shakes with uncontrollable laughter. His torso lingers over mine for a moment longer than what I’d consider comfortable, but I’ve learned to ignore his weird advances.

I clear my throat, trying to shrug his body off but he doesn’t make any effort to move which pisses me off. After I tap his shoulder a few times, he finally seems to get the hint, climbing to his feet, and then extending a hand to help me up.

Did I mention he loves taking me down? I think it’s his own personal version of flirting, but that’s a fact I try my best to ignore. I’m not interested in Ben whatsoever.

“You know better, Sadie. Rule number one—”

“Never lose focus. Yeah. I know, I know. A Day to Remember is my jam though.” I fold my arms over my chest in my best fuck-off pose. Unfortunately, it draws his eyes to my cleavage, so I drop them quickly.

He smirks, and it’s not an attractive look on him. Usually, when a guy smirks at you, it’s at least a little sexy, even if it’s a tiny bit condescending. But with Ben? Nope. He looks like he’s constipated.

“Your assailant wouldn’t give you any mercy and you know that. Focus on your surroundings and nothing else.”

Instead of responding I merely nod, gritting my teeth to hold in my snarky response. The asshole treats me like a child sometimes and it pisses me off.

I try to walk away but I’m snatched out of the air and pulled into a hard chest faster than I can blink. His bare skin makes mine crawl, and the feeling is wrong. I scramble out of his hold and he grabs ahold of my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. “Oh, Sadie…” His gruff voice drips with longing.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Ben?” I yank my wrist out of his revolting hold. There’s no doubt in my mind I’ll be bruised with his fingerprints tomorrow.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

He looks taken aback for a moment before his face falls and he runs a hand over it. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I get worked up sometimes. You know that, right?”

Don’t fucking say anything, Sadie.You need this training. You promised Skylar you’d learn how to become a weapon with your body. Fuck. Even thinking my brother’s name is enough to leave a lump in my throat that I’m forced to swallow down. My brother, my perfect older brother. I miss him more than the sun misses the moon.

I don’t respond to Ben. Instead, I retreat to the other side of the training room, rubbing my sore appendage. The silence drags on while Ben pretends to be busy tying his shoelace, and I act like I’m not watching him out of the corner of my eye like he’s going to pounce any second. Then I realize how silly I’m being and mentally shake myself. I pop the top on my purple water bottle and take a long drag.

Out of nowhere, the stereo cuts out, then switches to the middle of a Bring Me the Horizon song. Oli Sykes’s haunting melody pierces the air. Huh. That’s strange. Did my playlist not download correctly? I move toward my phone to check when the ominous lyrics of “Shadow Moses” reach my ears making me shudder.

You see, I’ve always been particularly gifted in theintuitiondepartment as I call it. I get these feelings that are hard to ignore and this song is bringing all those feelings to the forefront. Odd.

Shaking away those strange sensations, I squeeze my palms together while jumping up and down on the balls of my feet a few times to keep my blood pumping. There’s nothing better than the anticipation of the next fight.

When I waltz back over to the center of the training mat, I paste on my cockiest smile and drop into the starting position like nothing happened. Even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the feeling of Ben’s skin against mine. It’s not that I have a problem with Ben. It’s—there’s something off about him that I can’t seem to put my finger on. I’ve never had those warm fuzzy feelings about him.

The guy is my ex-boyfriend’s best friend for crying out loud. Tyler and him are two peas in a pod.

Besides, isn’t there a bro code about this type of thing? I’m sure if he opens that mysterious book of bro’s, there’s a commandment in there somewhere that states, “Thou shall not try to fuck your best friend’s ex.” Seeing as I don’t have a dick—a literal one, anyway—I don’t know for sure, but men seem to take it pretty fucking seriously from what I’ve heard. Well, minus Ben, obviously.

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