unedited!
“You playing
today?” Kalen asked.
Syn lifted a
shoulder. “Unless you plan to.”
Bron went
flying passed them—literally. He landed with an oomph
and lay there for a few seconds, a dazed look in his eyes. His
lean face went red as he tried to breathe.
Syn and Kalen
grinned at each other. Then Kalen said, “I’ll pass. Lee and I
are doing some hand-to-hand tonight. I’d rather not start off
injured. I’ll let you have the fun today.”
“Coward.” Syn
clucked her tongue. She watched, gauging the distance, as Xan
started towards Bron. As he offered a hand to the other man,
Syn moved.
She went for
his feet and as he went down, she slid away.
It was like
hitting a brick wall, she decided. A heated brick wall. She
was so used to being cold, but the moment she touched him, even
though her touch was an attack and not a caress, his heat chased
away the chill and left her entire body suffused with warmth.
He was
outweighed her, outreached her, and stood nearly a head taller
than she did. Which pretty much described every sparring
partner she’d ever had.
That
unreadable gaze of his didn’t change, but she sensed some
surprise coming off him as he came to his feet. Bron was up,
too, and he moved so that he stood just a little behind Syn and
off to the side. It was a choreographed move—they’d done this a
thousand times and they’d do it a thousand more.
“So now it is
two on one,” Xan said, his voice emotionless.
“It can be a
lot of fun.” Syn flashed him a cheeky smile, keeping her weight
on the balls of her feet. Her heart was racing. Her skin felt
warm, edging close to hot as she waited.
Xan didn’t
make a move towards her, even though she stood the closest. He
circled around, trying to make for Bron. Even after he had Bron
back down, he didn’t engage with her. Syn lifted a brow and
asked, “You do have a second opponent you have to take down.”
“I’m not
putting a woman on the ground.”
“Okay.” It
wasn’t the first time she’d been told that and she’d handle it
the same way she handled it every other time. The cold knot
tried to settle back inside her, but it faded when she attacked
him—when she touched him.
He deflected
her next attack. And the next. Bron was back on his feet at
that point, though and as he moved towards him, Syn went for
another takedown. He went down and as he did, he tried to catch
her feet.
She was
prepared for him, though, springing away at just the last
second. Xan got back on his feet and this time, the look he shot
her seemed a little bit perturbed.
“You can
either spar me straight-on, or I’ll keep coming at your back.”
“I’m not
fighting with a woman.”
“Then get
out,” she told him. She wasn’t touching him now and as she
crossed her arms over her chest, the cold knot returned. “The
gate’s that way. You can walk out now. If you move quickly
enough, you can probably catch up to the convoy. But you don’t
get to pick and choose your poison here, my friend. You do it
my way or you hit the road.”
His eye
narrowed on her face. “You sound very certain of that fact.”
“With good
reason.”
With the
exception of Xan and Syn, everybody turned to look at Kalen as
he entered the circle. He stood a few inches taller than Xan.
He wore cavinir—a light, form-fitting armor that clung to a
hard, leanly muscled body.
Kalen had
been born a warrior, forced to become a leader. At a time when
he should have been dreaming about girls and dreading his
impending adulthood, he’d been on the front line of their war.
He circled
to stand in front of Xan, pinning the other man with a cool
silvery gaze. “Nobody stays in my camp without proving they can
hold their own. Nobody stays in my camp without showing they
know how to handle themselves, without showing they know how to
take orders. That includes training—you either spar Captain
Caar, as ordered, or you get the hell out.”
“I don’t
believe in harming women,” Xan growled.
“It’s not
about harming women.” Syn moved between them and gave Kalen a
narrow look. He inclined his head and fell back, letting her
handle it. There was one thing she could rely on to chase away
the chill, and that was anger. Right now, it flooded her and
she welcomed it—welcomed it, channeled it.
Giving Xan a
pointed stare, she said, “I’m not calling you on the floor to
get hurt, Xan. Trust me, I don’t like pain, although I am used
to it. But this isn’t about hurting me, hurting women. It’s
called training—we all do it.”
“Then train
women against women. Females are naturally weaker than
males—the risk for injury to the woman is too high, even in
training.”
“So this is
about having a level playing field?” Syn snorted. “Sure,
because we’re fighting a war where there’s always an excess of
fairness.”
Xan stared at
her, his black gaze unflinching. “I do not raise my hand to
women.”
Syn smirked.
“That’s a way of thinking that could end up with you getting
hurt—in a serious way.” She glanced over his shoulder and her
smile took on a decidedly devilish twist. “Bron, you’re out.
Elina. Coryan.”
Elina
Corsairs, long and lean, came at him from his right, a blur of
movement. She was all speed and grace and as he moved to
deflect her attack, the other woman came up behind him.
Coryan Holder
stood at six feet and her body was nearly as broad as Xan’s. As
he backed away from Elina, Coryan caught him in a wrestler’s
hold and wrenched him off his feet. He went down and as one,
the three women in the circle moved on him.
Elina ended
up on her ass first. She would have moved back in but Syn
caught her eye and shook her head.
Now facing
Coryan and Syn, Xan grimaced. He looked between the two women,
his gaze measuring.
Finally.
Syn knew what sort of picture they presented. Coryan had the
muscle mass to rival a man’s and her face was scarred, hardened
from battle and years of a harsh life. Syn had faced that same
hard life, and many of the same battles, but she was slender,
not particularly tall and she looked…well, soft.
He’d go for
Coryan next, she figured. Eliminate what he perceived as the
biggest threat.
This wasn’t a
new scenario for her. Too many of the men who wanted to join
the rebellion showed up with preconceived notions—they were
fighting a war against those that preyed on their females and
having those females involved directly in the fight went against
their baser instincts.
He feinted
towards Coryan but at the last minute, he changed direction.
Moving too damn fast, he came for Syn. Only one thing saved
her—he wasn’t used to fighting somebody half his size. She
darted away, relying on her flexibility and years of experience
to evade him. It was close, though. She felt the disturbance
in the air ripple against her flesh. He didn’t waste any time
and came at her again, harder. Faster.
Syn took his
legs out from under him, but he was prepared this time and when
he went down, so did she. Trapped under his bigger body, she
sucked air into her lungs.
Heat.
Once more,
touching him flooded her with heat, heat that suffused every
fiber of her being, chasing away the chill. For the briefest
moment, they were close, close as lovers and she let herself
revel in that heat, let herself feel his strength, feel all of
him. But not enough…no where near enough.
Through their
clothes, she could feel the heavy thud of his heart, beating so
close to hers.
Then he
spoke, and the spell shattered.
“This isn’t a
fair fight,” he said in a monotone.
Working her
hands in between them, she jabbed at his neck. He went red and
gasped for air. As he went to shove away from her, she caught
him between his legs with her knee.
It was
utterly silent, save for the strange, choked sound he made deep
in his throat as he rolled to the side. Syn came to her feet
and stood over him.
“You’re damn
right it’s not a fair fight,” she told him. “But then again,
you can’t win a war, you can’t survive if you’re busy
complaining about a fair fight.”
She moved to
the edge of the circle, watching Xan from under her lashes. He
recovered quick, rolling to his feet and watching her with a mix
of disbelief and anger. The anger melted away, replaced by that
same measuring gaze he’d focused on every other fighter he’d met
in the circle.
About
damn time.
