Page 161 of Blood & Betrayals

Max follows behind me. “All right, let’s start slow.” Max shakes his muscles out. “Show me your stance.”

I quickly stretch, my muscles groaning, and then I get into the only stance I know, the one I’ve seen on television. I awkwardly angle my body sideways and put my fists up.

Max grimaces and tips his head. “What are you doing?”

“You said… you said to get into a stance, so…”

Max sighs and steps behind me. He puts his hands on my hips and adjusts my body. “Fae are fast, so you must make yourself a small target.” He pushes a foot between mine, widening my feet. “Speed can take down even the biggest of targets. Even a Goliath can fall from a thousand tiny cuts.”

My brows furrow. “And if I’m not… fast?” I ask cautiously, knowing how devastating my powers can be and unwilling to rely on them.

Max moves around me, lifting one of my elbows slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said,” I say, a little more harshly than I mean to.

Max steps back, studying me, but not in a way I’ve ever been studied before. This isn’t him looking to get to know me. He is watching me like an opponent would. “You don’t have to use your powers. The only problem is, your opponent probably won’t have the same consideration.”

“I understand. I know I need to be smart, and I need to know what I’m doing. You know what to do, and I’m smart. Together, I shouldn’t have any need for fae anything.”

Max shrugs. “I can teach you to fight. If you want to leave your best weapon behind, that’s between you and the mirror.” He checks over my stance again and nods. “All right, show me a punch.”

I thrust my arm forward into the air between us and am pleasantly surprised at how well the stance holds up. I feel balanced and still fairly strong.

But any joy I feel from the small achievement is instantly ousted by Max’s look of disappointment. “You’ll throw your shoulder out if you keep doing that. Punch from the hip, and you’re going to feel the power start from here.” He touches my right hip. “It will travel all the way up to your shoulder, down your arm, and then into your fist. Try again.”

I bristle a little. I don’t enjoy not being good at things, especially when my teacher is such an arrogant jerk. I reset, and Max has to correct my stance again. Concentrating on how it feels, I focus on following his instructions. This time, I push through my right hip, and the punch feels more controlled and stronger.

“Better,” he says.

“Can you just show me? I’m a visual learner.”

Max smirks and summons a fighting dummy. I’d say the pasty, faceless, floating torso is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen, but after the last few months, that would be a lie.

Max settles into his stance as if it is second nature, and I circle him, trying to see from all angles so I can replicate it. He twists, pushing the weight through his hip. When his fist connects with the dummy, it flies across the room, hitting the wall with a loud crash.

I feel a surge of determination when he smirks at me again, and I get into position. Max summons the dummy again and corrects my stance only slightly this time.

“Though the hip,” he reminds me, and I nod.

I throw a punch at the dummy, following Max’s movements almost exactly. The dummy rocks back a little but doesn’t move, and my hand throbs a little in pain. This thing is fucking heavy.

Max laughs. “Better. Okay, again.”

I nod, and I soon settle into the flow of punching the dummy. Max watches and only occasionally has to make slight corrections to my stance or technique.

“Right, now kicking.”

Max demonstrates the kick, then readjusts my stance, shifting my center of gravity. I kick out at the dummy, and Max grabs my ankle in midair.

“Hold it there. I’m going to try to make you lose balance.”

He slowly releases my ankle, and I wobble a bit but manage to keep my leg in the air. I feel the bandage on my thigh start to unravel as the muscles flex.

Max shoves my foot down and then to the side, trying to make my planted foot falter. I sway a little, feeling a bite of pain in my thigh. I feel the rumble of power inside me, my instincts trying to kick in to stop me from falling, but I quickly oust them and fall to the mat.

Max looks down at me, an eyebrow raised. “You’re not a hundred percent hopeless. You definitely held on longer than I expected.” I bristle at his comments, but he continues, “Ice when you get home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Painfully, I push from the floor. The bandage on my thigh completely unravels and falls to the mat.

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