Page 38 of Tabitha

I’m up before dawn the next morning, having slept better than I had in years. Apparently, kisses and orgasms are good for my health, putting me out like a light. I enter the kitchen, stumbling to a halt when I find Pierce already waiting for me.

He glances at me over the rim of his cup. “Did you have a good time last night?”

I cock my head, not surprised that he knows what happened. I’ve gotten used to him watching me. He lowers his cup, his expression giving nothing away, and I answer him truthfully. “Yes.”

“Good.” He relaxes, then grabs a cup and pours hot water over the waiting tea bag before pushing the cup toward me. “We’ll start training when you’re ready.”

Then he drops a quick kiss on my lips before picking up his coffee. He glances at his phone, completely oblivious to the way I froze at the casual kiss. Unsure how I feel about the open affection, I turn away and flip through the random cookbook lying on the counter, blindly reading a recipe for rabbit stew.

I touch my fingertips to my lips, then yank them away.

This is going to be a problem.

Distractions on a mission could lead to mistakes or even death.

My tea is gone much too soon. By the time I place the empty cup in the sink, Pierce is waiting by the backdoor. He opens it, gesturing for me to go first, and I eye him suspiciously…only to have his smile widen at my reaction.

As I scurry down the stairs, he follows closely on my heels, whispering in my ear, “Get used to it. A girl like you deserves to be treated like a princess.”

A shiver ghosts down my spine, and I’m almost able to imagine it’s his fingers brushing against my skin. I shake off my visceral reaction to him, snorting at the absurd thought of me being a princess. I’m the furthest thing from a pampered diva, and I scowl, wondering if that’s what Pierce really likes in a woman.

For some reason, that thought smarts, and I jab my elbow into his gut to give myself some breathing room, not liking the image of him with some simpering goddess of femininity. Even if I wanted to pretend to be that for him, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to go about it.

I shake my head at the absurdity, the brisk morning air helping to banish those foolish thoughts. No, if he doesn’t like me the way I am, then he can go fuck himself.

I don’t need him.

It’s still dark outside, the sun just a splash of color on the horizon as the rays break across the treetops. I drag my hair away from my face and pull it into a messy bun, looping the strands up into a messy bun. Once done, I bend over, touching my fingers to my toes and stretching out my muscles.

A muffled groan sounds from behind me, and I glance between my legs. Pierce is frozen mid-stretch, watching my ass like he wants to take a bite out of it.

I feel a little smug at the attention, heat suffusing my chest at his obvious lust.

I doubt the little princess he fantasizes about can kill a man without getting caught.

After going through a series of stretches, my muscles warm, and I turn to face off against him, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I wait for him to square up. He only stands there, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, blinking at me with a dazed expression on his face.

He takes a step forward, and I don’t wait, throwing out a punch that snaps his head back. He grunts, swipes the back of his hand across his nose, then stares down at the smear of blood in a mixture of confusion and bafflement.

Then his eyes clear, a vicious smile slashing across his face, and he brings up his fists. “Let’s do this, then.”

For the next twenty minutes, we exchange punches and dodge blows, each of us trying to get the upper hand. It almost feels like he’s challenging me. Every time he gets close, he trails his fingers over every inch of my skin that he can reach.

It’s fucking distracting, and I hate that I can’t predict where he’ll touch me next. It leaves me feeling needy and irritable and craving more.

* * *

BAST

Ilean against a tree, watching as Pierce and the girl train, grudgingly admitting that they’re good.

Real good.

Lover boy is fast and brutal, always assessing his opponent and adapting. Tabitha is different, relying more on natural instinct, able to flow and adjust to the smallest nuances. While Pierce has strength, Tabitha is flexible and incredibly fast. She strikes where you’d least expect it.

If Pierce weren’t so familiar with her fighting style, she could easily disable or even kill him in less than a minute. She knows the pressure points and vulnerable spots on a person’s body that could cripple her opponent in seconds.

River appears next to me, emerging from the trees like a ghost. If he doesn’t want a person to see him, he remains invisible. He stays silent, his eyes sharp as he watches the fight. Tension thrums through his body, like a spring ready to launch into action. I’m not sure if he wants to go after the girl and drag her off to his lair, or if he wants to beat lover boy to a pulp.

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