Page 105 of The Last One
“Calamity and mayhem,” he says, winking. “But you don’t look like you’re enjoying my precious Chaos.”
“It’s not a matter of enjoying it or the weight or my ability,” I say. “I’ll handle him if I must. But do I want to? The hilt is throwing me off. It looks great on you, but for me? It’s elegant and breathtaking, but I dread holding it in my hands. I fear that if I chop off one head and a pair of hands, then I’ll want to chop off another head and another pair of hands, and then more and more.”
“You’d lose control?” he asks, eyebrow arched.
“I’d never want to stop. And I doubt you’d stop me.”
“I like watching you fight,” he says, eyes narrowed, tongue poking his cheek. “Why would I ever stop you?”
I cock my head to the side. “You’d let me finish until I had my fill?”
He says, “Mmhmm.”
“You’re a very considerate partner.” Familiar heat floods my body, and our eyes meet.
Have Iever flirted with anyone like this? Knowing who I am today combined with knowing one of my favorite things, I must have flirted and more. And how was it? Can I not remember those times because I can’t remember anything else right now or can I not remember those times because they were truly forgettable encounters—decent and good enough, more congress than libidinous? Or was I the one who’d been decent and simply good enough?
Of course not. I scoff at the idea of me being a mediocre lover. I’m pretty sure that I’d make the man on this bed of hay forget his own name.
“Sorry, Chaos,” I say to the broadsword. “It’s not you but it’s not me, either.”
“But look how big and wide that blade is,” Jadon says, smirking.
I roll my eyes. “It’s always aboutsize,isn’t it?” I point the broadsword at him.“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but just because it’s big and wide doesn’t mean it’s good.”
“Is that so?” Jadon says.
“Yes, that is extremely so.”
He narrows his eyes. “Didn’t you just say that you’re open to new experiences?”
“I am open, but I didn’t mean…” I hold the broadsword far away from me.
“Just one time,” he says. “Try. I won’t ask you again, and you can cross it off your list.”
“Fine.” I lift Chaos, despite my wincing muscles. Bronie is pretty much depleted, but his head remains. I swing the broadsword, and I don’t even feel the resistance of steel cutting straw. Bronie’s head and the top half of his torso lie in a neat heap in the dirt. I say, “Shit,” and gape at the blade. “Bronie was dead before I even realized I’d swung.”
Jadon says, “Mmhmm.”
“Nope.Too much. I’m scared that I’d enjoy the experience too much. I’d lose my mind.”
“I certainly don’t wantthat,” Jadon says. “We tried. So. Last weapon.” He hops back up with ease.
I squint at the table, the mace, dagger, longsword, broadsword… I’ve tried them all. “I don’t see any others.”
“These weapons weren’t made in a forge, and I’ve seen you use them in a few ways already, but not this way.” Jadon lifts his fists. “We’re back to these. Hand-to-hand combat andnotusing your wind-whipper powers. Just good old-fashioned fighting.”
“Right. I haven’t punched anyone.” I lift my fists. “I promise not to hurt youtoomuch.”
“Don’teverhold back on me,” he says. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Deal?”
We start with striking and punching.
“Do you remember your favorite technique?” he asks.
I pause and flip through the pages of my mind. Most are blank, but then: “Joint locks!”
“Really?”
