Page 56 of A City of Smoke and Demons
‘I want to try again.’
She tried twice more, the bullet slamming into the concrete wall behind the target. She dropped her arms with an exasperated sigh.
‘You’ll get the hang of it,’ Ezra said.
Analise put her hands on her hips. ‘Show me then.’
‘You want a demonstration?’
She nodded.
‘Alright.’ He took a pistol from the table, loaded it, and came back to where Analise was standing. She stepped aside for him, and he could feel her scrutinising him. He hadn’t fired a gun in a year, but if there was ever a time to pull that skill out of his arse, it was now. He cleared his throat, took a steady breath, held it while he lined up his shot, making sure his stance was correct. She’d tell him if it wasn’t. On his exhale, Ezra squeezed the trigger.
The bullet tore through the air and slammed between the eyes of the target.
Analise made a noise that could have meant she was impressed, but her face when he looked was expressionless.
‘It takes practice,’ was all he said, returning the weapon to the table.
Analise took up her position once more. Ezra stood behind her, watching how she moved, concentrating more on that than the shape of her arse. This was important to her, so he’d stay and help until she was happy, or until she’d had enough of it, or him.
‘Your hips aren’t right.’ He moved closer, placing his hands on the curve of her hips. The sound of her breath catching speared through him and he couldn’t help but think of the last time his fingers caused her to make that noise.
‘Feet out,’ he managed, sliding his leg between hers and knocking his foot against one ankle, then the next. She shifted her stance, immediately straightening her spine. ‘Raise the gun,’ he told her, his mouth close to her ear. The smell of her hair was making him dizzy. ‘Line up the shot.’
She inhaled, exhaled; he could feel her tension, her nerves.
‘Relax, Analise,’ Ezra murmured. His hands remained on her hips to steady her. ‘I’ve got you.’
He hadn’t meant to say that, but the closeness of her was overwhelming. He could smell soap from the bath, and the faint scent of perfume. He stood a head taller than her, the slim line of her shoulder dwarfed by his, but despite that, each curve of her fit neatly against him, like she’d been carved into existence for that purpose.
The thought made his mouth go dry.
His fingers tightened on her hips, a gentle squeeze. Her breath seized. Tension flowed through her. ‘Relax,’ he told her again. ‘Look down the barrel, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger. There’s no rush.’
A tiny nod of her head to show she understood. She unlocked her knees, shifted her weight, and when she fired, the sound made them both jolt. The recoil took her by surprise, more than before; she stumbled back, colliding with his chest. ‘Shit,’ she hissed.
His arms slid around her instinctively. Her head was tucked beneath his chin; strands of her hair tickled his jaw. Analise’s breathing was heavy, fast, and he could feel the pounding of her heart through her back.
‘I missed—again.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’ Ezra was still holding her against him and slowly, he let his arms drop away. His fingers curled; his hands wanted to keep touching her, to feel the heat of her skin against his. ‘Go again.’
This time, she was more confident. Her stance was good, and her aim improved. She emptied the chamber, shot after shot, until a bullet slammed into the target’s shoulder.
‘I hit it!’ Analise turned to him, beaming, but when he grinned back, the smile dropped from her face, as if she’d realised who she was smiling at. She cleared her throat. ‘I think I’ve had enough for now.’
He nodded. ‘You did well, better than most on their first try.’
How’s that for professional, Jem?
Analise returned the gun to the table. ‘Will I get to try a moving target one day?’
Ezra blinked. ‘What?’
This time, her smile was calculating. ‘How fast can you run, Ezra?’
He laughed nervously, pulling his hand through his hair. ‘You don’t need a gun, Analise. You’ve got your mouth, and let’s not forget your hands.’ He hadn’t meant to say it, but that moment in the safe house, when she was dripping with anger and full of spiteful words, rose to the surface, pushing all other smartarse remarks out of his head.
