Page 173 of Caelum

Her hair was in a taut bun that had to tug on the roots, and her face was a mixture of pink, white, and red from where the other girl had been hitting her. She wore an oversized shirt that could be used against her in a fight, and leggings that had my hands itching to shape her ass through them.

Against the other girls in the class she was training with, she looked like a woman, mostly because she was one, but also because she was all curves. All round and soft where they were edges.

Her feet were bare against the soft surface that took up a large chunk of space against one side of the gym. It was meant to make landings less painful, but in my opinion, it just made it harder to train. Unless you were in real-time conditions, it was hard to know how you’d respond in a fight. If someone smashed your face into the ground, there wouldn’t be a bounce or some padding to cushion the blow, now would there?

“He has a death wish,” Dre commented when Samuel said something that had Eve’s hands curling into fists.

“Like someone else I know,” I retorted, the barb aimed his way, but he didn’t bother replying because one of Samuel’s evidently hit home and Eve’s control broke as she charged Samuel.

Now her soul was in charge, her hesitance bled out, and the accuracy of her hits surprised everyone because most of the class stopped what they were doing to watch. I knew that was helped by the fact that Samuel was one of the top fighters in his year and a girl was slapping him hard, but Eve wasn’t as weak as my Pack seemed to think she was.

Her souls were strong. The woman might be vulnerable, fragile in some ways, but she wasn’t afraid to throw down when things went to shit.

Samuel worked hard not to hurt her while letting her practice on him. I had to applaud his control since the way he fought ensured she had a true workout, one that tested her instincts as well as her body’s reflexes, instead of having her stand there, allowing someone to elbow her in the face over and over.

Why Coach thought that was an appropriate way for her to learn, I’d never know, but there was no arguing with the asshat sometimes, and I’d been hoping he’d learn the error of his ways just by watching Eve.

No such luck.

Even as I thought about whether involving Nicholas was wise or not, a half-hour later, Eve was limping toward me. Her face was damp with sweat,her temples had beads of perspiration gathering on the hairline, and she was flushed all over. Her clothes stuck to her, and though she looked tired as she hobbled over to me, her words were bright when she asked, “Can we have the cake you made now?”

I grinned at her eagerness, and Dre snorted at her words, but she ignored him and focused fully on me.

“If you want,” I told her, inordinately pleased that she wanted to taste something I’d made for her but also delighted that I could share some of my culture with her. We tended to lose that at Caelum. Merging into the creature’s culture while losing our family’s heritage. Some kids were glad about that, but ones who’d loved their parents like Samuel and me didn’t want to dismiss everything from our pasts.

“Of course I do,” she retorted with a huff.

“As the lady commands,” I told her, smirking as she rolled her eyes at me. “Go get washed up and meet me in the kitchen, yeah?”

She nodded and took off. The second she did, Samuel took her place. He was armed with a towel he was using to wipe down his face, and he had a bottle of water in his other hand he was taking huge gulps of.

“She can fight,” he said, confirming what we pretty much knew. “But her soul needs to be engaged.”

“We figured that out already, pretty boy,” Dre snarked back, making Samuel’s top lip curl, revealing blunt fangs that were just waiting for his Vampire to mature.

“I’m curious how she knows some of those moves. It’s like her souls are?—”

He broke off, but where Eve was concerned, I wanted to know everything. “Like they’re what?”

Samuel shrugged. “Older than her somehow. Like what the human knows and what the souls know are two separate entities. It’s odd.”

That did sound odd, but fuck, Eve was weird.

Which was why I knew she’d appreciate the fact that the treat I’d prepared for her wasn’t completely done yet. And when she met me in the kitchen about twenty minutes later, her hair wet and body still stiff from fighting, her eyes gleamed with joy as she looked at the setup on the counter.

“What is this?” she questioned, staring at the dough I’d been rolling out for what felt like a lifetime.

“It’s going to be something called baklava.”

A door slammed shut and she jerked at the sound. The kitchen was industrial, meaning that every space inside was utilitarian without a hint ofappeal. Stainless steel counters lined the walls, and several large islands armed with sinks and stovetops were dotted here and there. There were industrial-sized ovens and fridges and freezers, as well as a smaller refrigerator that was loaded down with snacks for kids to eat if they were hungry outside of mealtimes—creatures ate a shit ton. Our metabolisms burned fast and hot.

Because of the way the kitchen was designed, however, the slamming of the door echoed around the space, and her head whipped around to find its source.

I didn’t like Brendan, thought he was a prick even if he did make the best cookies this side of the Atlantic. The guy ran the kitchens, and though he didn’t like us being in here, there was no hard and fast rule about it. We were allowed to make ourselves snacks and to prepare food in here so long as we cleaned up after ourselves and weren’t wasteful.

When Brendan stalked into the kitchen with a glower on his face, I just nodded at him in greeting, hoping he’d move on by.

He didn’t.

---