Page 51 of Griffin Undone
“The power you have—” Arik sighed, running a hand over the back of his head as if trying to rub an explanation into his brain. The gleaming expanse of his broad shoulders, right there in front of me, tempted me to run my fingers along it, forget all of my worry, all of the unknown in the exploration of his skin. I even felt the tingles in my fingertips, but— “That power killed in an instant, and could do it again if you were ever threatened. Do you really want to run around without a leash on it? Without any way to avoid what could be disastrous consequences if you make a mistake?” Those big hands settled on my shoulders. He shook me gently. “It’s not a risk worth taking, believe me.”
Looking into Arik’s intense eyes, I managed to whisper, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Then work with me. Train with me. It’s the only way to transition you fully into Archai society. Ignoring your power will lead to disaster.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“You won’t.”
I didn’t believe him, but doubt was nothing new. What exactly didn’t I have doubts about these days? There wasn’t a single part of my life that I didn’t question, have missing information on, or wonder about the truth of. The question really was, did I trust Arik to keep me—and himself—safe while I did this?
I’d never trusted anyone like that. I’d never had anyone to truly rely on. But as I absorbed Arik’s stare, I realized the question really was, did I believe he was strong enough to protect both of us from my power?
Yes. Yes, he was. I truly believed that.
With the surety of that belief ringing inside me, I conceded. “Okay.”
“Good.” He smoothed a palm along my bare bicep, causing gooseflesh to coat my skin. “Warm up.”
For a minute I blanked. Then, “Now?”
“Now.” When I hesitated, his voice went deeper, rougher. “Now, Kat.”
Really, that tone should be illegal. It also really shouldn’t make me wet. That was wrong on too many levels to even count.
I pivoted on my heel before he caught sight of what his order did to my nipples, and began a slow circuit around the room, working up to a jog, my thoughts circling to the steady, slapping echo of my running shoes hitting the concrete. Arik strode to the far corner of the room where a large, cylindrical punching bag stood. Hefting it onto his shoulder as if it were a bag of dog food, he carried it to the center of the room and latched the top to a heavy hook dangling from the ceiling. After testing the connection, he turned to scrutinize my progress.
I will not trip. I will not trip.
When I finished my next lap—without tripping—he motioned me over.
Cautiously I approached Arik and the bag. It wasn’t so much that I was scared of the thing, more that it loomed over me with its massive black weight, white targets dotting its surface like eyes watching me. In my mind it became a visual reminder of the looming, scary, massive creatures I might face if I ever had to use my skills, psych or otherwise.
Arik cleared his throat. I glanced at him from beneath my lashes, my gut squirming at the amused grin flirting with his lips. How could this man…male…guytie me in so many knots? I wanted to be Milla Jovovich for him, not a field mouse.
“Go ahead,” he told me, nodding at the bag. “Give it a try. It won’t bite…much.”
I moved a bit more awkwardly than I’d like into the fighting stance he’d taught me. Squaring my shoulders, I reared back and gave the bag a hard punch, succeeding in setting the heavy weight swaying slightly on its anchors. I shook out my stinging knuckles.
Arik’s choked-off laugh heated my cheeks and my temper. “It’s not funny. How much does this thing weigh, anyway? It’s like trying to push a horse off its feet.”
When he continued his not so silent laughter, I glared, at him and the bag, then squared off and punched again. And again there was very little response. Searching my mind for the things Arik had taught me, I breathed in, out, focusing all my attention and energy in my gut, then punched as I pushed the energy up my body and out my arm.
So, a little more sway this time. My shoulders slumped as I eyed the bag.
“Good, Kat.”
When I glanced over to see if he was being facetious, I instead found honesty in his eyes.
He met my look with a quirk of his lips. “Seriously. You’re focusing, using what you’ve learned. We just need to add your talent now.” He leaned toward me, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let’s show this big ole bag who’s boss. Think of an emotion.”
I discarded the first one to come to mind with him so close: lust. The heat in my cheeks ramped up.Yeah, not getting anywhere with that one. Let’s see.Needing breathing room, I circled the bag slowly, hands up and ready to punch, letting my mind circle as well.
Anger was the obvious choice, but I wasn’t angry at the bag. More…determined. To prove I could do what Arik wanted. To prove I was worthy, that I was as valuable as he seemed to think I was.
The bag mocked me, silent and still. It wasn’t going to win, though. I was.
I let the resolve firm in my gut, fill out my frame as I stared down that bag. I stared until a red haze washed over my sight and the big, black target was all I could feel or think or imagine. And then I planted my feet, twisted, and struck.
