World Outside
I needed to convince Blaine that he could trust me. Should’ve been easy enough.
A.) He fancied me.
B.) He was nuttier than a bag of raccoons.
All I had to do was throw in a few smiles, an occasional compliment, maybe some eyelash batting. Easy-peasy, right?
Wrong.
So utterly, horribly wrong.
If he’d been your average, run-of-the-mill lunatic, it may have worked. But Blaine could sense and even smell my emotions, which made things infinitely trickier, especially when my anger had me destroying small portions of the manor, one bit at a time. As it turned out, that little bite I’d given Blaine came with a lot more punch than I had bargained for. It seemed whatever drugs I’d been given had still been lingering in my system to some degree, because as the day progressed, the more aggressive my runes became. I was growing stronger.
Assuming Blaine slept in the master bedroom at the far end of the hall, I chose my living quarters to be as far away from his as possible. He suggested a closer room, but I assured him I’d be fine, finding a lovely handcrafted canopy bed awaiting me. The mattress was relatively soft, although the comforter smelled a little musty, making me wonder when the last time someone had even slept in here, if ever.
It was only eight o’clock when I turned in, ready for sleep to grant me a temporary reprieve from all this. I’d made it through the night just fine…until a certain dream had me up in a frenzy. I awoke in blind hysteria, my runes already lit. The moment I shot upright, the energy pulsated from my hands, shooting out on all sides. The force struck every one of the canopy posts, splitting them in half.
I shrieked as the wooden beams crashed all around me, and the fastened canopy sheet followed in suit, blanketing down on me like one of those animal capture nets, ensnaring me beneath its material. With the heavy posts collapsed on the floor, I struggled to wrestle my way out from under the fabric, finding Blaine standing in the entranceway already shaking his head.
“Don’t even start.” I slumped back under the canopy, wishing I could die.
My morning didn’t fare much better. The tiniest fleck of frustration had me ripping off another few doorknobs, a sink faucet handle, and even the showerhead. By the time I entered the kitchen, I realized something. If I played my cards right, I could use this to my advantage. Kill two birds with one stone.
Blaine wanted me to play along. Fine by me.
“I want to take you up on your offer,” I announced, taking a seat at the island across from him.
Blaine’s focus had been concentrated on whatever book he was reading, but the declaration definitely earned his attention. “Offer?”
“The night of my Rite. You said that you’d help train me, to help me control my powers. I want to take you up on the offer.”
He leaned against the counter, taking a long moment to look me over. I waited with baited breath and prayed I didn’t appear too suspicious. Could he smell the lie? His eyes studied my face, and it felt as if the guilt was painted across my forehead.
He finally set down his coffee mug. “Is this really what you want?”
“No.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I appreciate the honesty.”
He could tell.
Crap.
“I don’t want you to train me,” I clarified, “but you’re the only one who can. Being that Reese is a Light Mage, his runes don’t work the same way as ours do.”
“So you’re asking me as a last resort?”
“Pretty much.”
He nodded, seeming to consider. “When do you want to start?”
***
“Do your worst.”
There we stood, in a training room. I’d combed every inch of the manor, and had never spotted it. Though, I couldn’t blame it on being dimwitted. The entrance to the basement stairwell was made of the exact same wooden paneling as the length of the walls, making the doorway undetectable to the naked eye. It wasn’t until you pushed on the specific plate that it opened. Tucked away in the far end of the basement, the training room was about the size of a basketball court, lined with exercise equipment along with an entire wall decked out in various weapons.
I gawped at the dagger Blaine set in my hands. “You want me to stab you?”
He smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”
This wasn’t common cutlery. The hilt of the dagger was adorned with filigree, and the blade had to be at least ten inches long. By the looks of it, I guessed it was an antique.
“Are you crazy?” I looked up at him, immediately realizing who I was talking to. “I mean, obviously you are, but I didn’t think you were suicidal.”
Blaine laughed. “It’s not silver.” Seeing my unwillingness to even test it out, he came up and took the weapon back from me by the tip of the blade. He held it between his fingers, letting me take note that it wasn’t burning his skin. “Unless by some miracle you can manage to decapitate me, I’ll be fine,” he assured. “Just try to avoid the eyes. From what I hear, that is not a pretty healing process.”
He extended the dagger back to me, allowing me to wrap my hand around the hilt. “I thought you were going to help me control my runes,” I said.
“We’ll get to that, but you also need to learn how to fight without relying on them. If the Angel of Death really does have it out for you, then you won’t have the luxury of using any magic to defend against him.” He took a healthy step back and beckoned me to follow. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I positioned myself, readying the blade, and he immediately shook his head. “What?”
“Your body’s all wrong.”
“I’ve never heard you complain about it before,” I ribbed.
“Your stance is wrong,” Blaine clarified, unable to fight the grin pulling at his lips. “You have your fighting arm angled behind you. Here.” He came over, turning my whole body to the left. “When you’re facing your opponent, you want your dominant side—which for you is your right—to be coming forward. When you’re turned the other way, you’re leaving the entire unarmed side of your body exposed. Plus, when your fighting arm is further back, you’re losing most of your reach, making it that much more difficult to strike your attacker.”
Made sense.
“This way,” he said, repositioning my feet, “your attacker has to find a way past the knife in your hands to get to you. And always try to leave your free hand up guarding your throat. It’s the most effective area to strike, even with our kind.”
With my newly acquired position, Blaine urged me once again to come at him. I wasn’t going to lie. The idea of being allowed to stab Blaine sounded pretty good. In fact, it was a fantasy of mine. Only, it was much harder than it looked. Even without any weapons to defend himself with, he averted every swipe, strike, and slash I threw at him. Every move was so effortless, it only fueled my fury, making me all the more imprudent.
At last, he caught my arm, the knife still a healthy distance from his neck. “You’re exhausting yourself.”
“Am not,” I panted.
Yeah, real convincing, Kat.
“I can smell your anger, as well as see it,” he remarked, pointing at the glowing rune on my arm. “The more energy you waste on ineffective strikes, you’re only giving your opponent the upper hand by wearing yourself out.”
I pulled away, tossing the blade aside, unable to bottle my annoyance.
“You already have the necessary skill set,” he sighed. “I’ve seen it for myself. Our bond gifted you my fighting abilities. You just need to learn how to tap into it, and maybe brush up on a few techniques. It won’t be that hard, I promise.”
Still peeved, I bent down to reclaim the dagger when it suddenly slid away just out of reach. I took another step forward, and yet again, it skittered across the floor. I shot a dirty look up at Blaine, seeing his finger crooked toward the dagger. No doubt magic. “Will you stop it?”
He shook his head. “Leave it. I want to see what you can do with hand-to-hand combat.”
“I’m not going to learn anything if you keep jumping from subject to subject,” I scoffed.
“We’ll come back to it later,” he assured. “Anger and sharp objects don’t generally mix well. If you pick up the blade again, the only person you’re most likely to hurt is yourself. Let’s stick to fists till you dial it down a few notches.”
I took a moment, pretending to collect myself, when in fact I really needed it to catch my breath. God, didn’t he get sick of always being right?
And the prospect of fighting him only became less and less appealing as I looked back at him. Having tossed aside the hoodie he’d been wearing, Blaine showcased his lean, inverted triangular frame in all its glory, hidden beneath nothing but a fitted black wife beater tank top and a pair of workout sweats. I could even see the ripples in the shirt’s fabric where his six-pack rested. Match that with toned biceps, broad shoulders, and defined pecs, I felt about as threatening as a basket of kittens.
“Okay, show me what you’ve got.” Blaine motioned me forward, still not bothering to take any stance. He stood not five feet ahead in front of me, his arms laxly at his sides as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Without anything to go off of, and admittedly self-conscious of any further criticism, I held up my hands. I’d taken self-defense courses before, so I at least knew to bend my knees and keep my elbows tucked in. Except…which side was I supposed to turn my body toward again?
Crap.
Was the technique for punching the same as knife-fighting? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. With Blaine’s eyes homed in on me, on my body, anxiety hit in full-force. Desperately grasping at any scrap of memory for help, I still drew a blank.
How the hell was I ever going to pull this off? Every time Blaine touched me, it took everything I had not to run away screaming. And now? I literally couldn’t stand in front of him without becoming flustered.
One look at him, and I already knew whatever I was doing had to be wrong. I immediately dropped my hands.
Blaine sighed. “If you’re that uncomfortable, we don’t have to do this.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I need to learn.”
He nodded. “You had it right the first time.” Blaine adjusted my stance so that my dominant leg and punching hand were positioned further back, like how I’d been when first holding the knife. “Make sure to stand square. The power of your punch starts in your legs. Keep them bent, and use your hips to guide your body.” He demonstrated beside me, illustrating the perfect technique. Just as he said, the energy travelled up his torso and into his arm, allowing him to throw a forceful jab. Blaine repeated the action, purposely slower to further illustrate each step.
After showing me various punching methods, my ‘teacher’ wanted to see if I could put his lesson to use. To say it bruised my ego all over again would’ve been an understatement. That challenging brow, that smirk teasing at the corner of his lips, that condescending nonchalance; it all made my blood boil. Time and time again, I managed to punch into nothing but air as he casually sidestepped and parried each attempted strike like he was facing off against a toddler. At one point, he even yawned!
That was the last straw. The moment I pulled away from him, my runes reignited as I clenched my fist. Without my permission, the power brewing inside me exploded, clearly deciding to show Blaine who was boss. Something shot off the small bench in the corner and hurled right at the back of Blaine’s head, smacking him in the base of his skull.
I nearly yelped, uncertain of what I’d inadvertently thrown. The entire section of the room was covered with weights and weapons, all of which could do some serious damage.
I expected him to scream or curse, or do…something. Instead, he just looked baffled. Something thudded behind him on the floor, and he turned around to see what I now realized was a water bottle.
“Cute,” he smirked, kicking it back over to the sidelines.
A freaking water bottle? Seriously?
Not only had I involuntarily Hulked out, I couldn’t even do that right, picking the least effective weapon known to mankind. In all of human history, no one’s autopsy report was ever going to read ‘death by water bottle.’ Along with the damn thing being only half-full, it didn’t even have the decency to be well-made. It was one of those stupid environmentally friendly bottles where the plastic was so thin, you could crinkle it up in your hand. I might as well have hit him with a party balloon.
“May we proceed? Or do you wish to continue your tantrum?” he asked, getting an eye roll for an answer.
I wasn’t sure if he had started taking it a little easier on me, but my self-esteem got a much needed boost for the next half-hour after I managed to land a couple decent punches. Sure, they only connected with his arms and chest, and he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by them, but at least I wasn’t swinging uselessly at the air.
“Turn around.”
“What?”
“We need to test your reflexes,” said Blaine, apparently switching gears into our next subject. “In a perfect world, you’d always face-off with your opponent, but unfortunately, that’s rarely the case in reality. You’ll need to learn how to defend yourself against ambushes.”
Turning my back to him was the last thing I wanted to do. It hadn’t done me any favors in the past. Hell, the fang marks scarring my neck were proof enough. But none of this was about trying to make me feel warm-and-fuzzy. I needed to learn things like this, and I needed to convince Blaine that I could at least tolerate being around him. It was the first step in the right direction, and if I had any hope of gaining his fullest trust, I had to work fast, comfort be damned.
I did as instructed, trying to ignore the quiver working its way up my arms. It wasn’t from my runes. It was pure, unadulterated anxiety. I gripped my hands together, as if I could squeeze out the unease. My heart only pounded faster as haunting music suddenly blared across the training space from speakers I hadn’t realized before were mounted into the corners of the walls. I whirled on my heels.
Blaine merely twirled his finger at me, indicating that I needed to turn back around. He didn’t want me to hear him coming—whenever he decided to. I stood stupidly for a good minute, straining to hear over the gorgeous, dark melody. Without a sound, his only hint came from the breath of air hitting my neck before his arms wrapped around me. I’d expected him to rush me, ensnaring my hands to my sides as he pulled me up off my feet. I’d expected him to attack me. But his hold wasn’t so much of a hold as it was…an embrace, feeling his body pressing up against my back. Even with his taut muscles and sculpted arms, the embrace was so startlingly gentle.
His lips were so close to my ear that his breath warmed it, and all I could suddenly see was that wood paneled wall from my dreams. All I could feel was his mouth on my shoulder, his hands roaming my body, our lips crashing into one another. Every inch of me went flush at the recollection.
“What do you do?” he whispered.
“Huh?” I muttered, snapping myself back into reality.
“When your attacker grabs you like this, what do you do?”
I seriously doubted my attacker would be holding me ‘like this.’ “I…I don’t know. Stomp their foot?” It had worked with the demon possessing Officer Hernandez.
“Nice sentiment, but it only works if they’re standing still. Most of the time, your attacker will try lifting you off the ground, dragging you backward. Chances are you won’t get the opportunity.”
“Head butt?” I attempted again.
“If they’re not too tall, it’s a possibility. But you need to think in guarantees.” He gently kneed the back of my leg. “I want you to take your right foot and pivot it to the outside of my left foot, as far back as you can.”
I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I nevertheless did as he said.
“When you do this, grab the fabric of my pants just above my knee. This’ll help steady your weight when your center of gravity lowers,” he further instructed. “Once you have your footing, extend your right arm out.”
To my amazement, the maneuver forced his arms to pull apart, effectively breaking his hold on me.
“Now, take your right leg, position it behind my left foot, and bring your knee into the back of my leg. Then, fall back.”
“Seriously?”
All I got was a soft chuckle.
I did just that. With my arm still extended and his knee buckling under, I actually managed to take Blaine down with me. In fact, my stance had allowed him to fall beneath me, letting me avoid the impact of his weight.
“See where your right arm is?” he asked, lying down beneath me, our limbs still tangled together. Thank God my back was still to him and not my face.
I flushed nevertheless, noting that my elbow was just above his…unmentionables.
“That’s your target. You hit him there, and I promise you, he won’t be getting back up anytime soon.”
“Oh…okay,” I muttered stupidly, involuntarily shifting.
Blaine suddenly let out a breathy laugh after a moment, and I startled at the sound. “Not that I mind you laying on top of me, but would you mind letting up your elbow?”
“Oh…God! Sorry.” I scrambled away, realizing only just then that my shifted position had my elbow digging into his solar plexus, which probably wasn’t helping his breathing any.
He only laughed again, climbing back up to his feet to meet me. “For the record, that’s another effective area,” Blaine said, tapping the same spot below his sternum. “If you hit that hard enough, the impact will cause the diaphragm to spasm, cutting off your assailant’s air supply.”
“Did you learn all of this from…?” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name, not wanting to upset him.
“My brother taught me most of this.” To my surprise, he actually smiled. “Let’s just say the pupil surpassed the master.”
Blaine proceeded to show me how to break free from an underarm “bear hug” hold, which even I had to admit was kind of fun. Hooking my hand around Blaine’s arm, I turned to the side and hooked my foot under his leg, throwing him to the ground in a backwards roll. Move over, Black Widow. There was a new badass in town.
Okay, maybe I wasn’t that awesome, but knowing I could at least defend myself now still felt pretty good.
Five maneuvers later, and I needed to ask. “My attacker isn’t going to be coddling me, so…why are you?”
Blaine’s throat bobbed.
“I mean, I can take a few bumps and bruises. You don’t have to handle me with kid gloves,” I amended.
“I don’t doubt your resilience. I just didn’t want to scare you.”
“What do you mean?”
He gave me a knowing look. “It doesn’t take clairsentience to know you’re afraid to be around me.”
I could feel blood rushing to my cheeks, only further proving his point.
“It’s hard enough learning things like chokeholds when you do trust your instructor. I highly doubt you’d feel comfortable with me, of all people, wrapping my hands around your throat, especially with any kind of force.” Before I could attempt to deny or even admit it, he only stepped further away. “I get it, really.”
Blaine headed over to the other side of the room and grabbed a pair of focus mitts, but even I could see the tension wrought in his shoulders. He began explaining some kicking techniques, but my mental filter seemed to break as I cut him off, blurting, “How do you get out of chokeholds?”
I couldn’t help it. After being attacked by Brittany, the cheerleader-turned-Hellhound, and then nearly strangled to death by Russell, choking was an all-too familiar reoccurrence for me. Having a little know-how couldn’t hurt.
Blaine’s entire frame stiffened. “Kat—”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think I needed to learn it. I’m tired of being a victim, and I’m tired of always running away. I want to fight.” Because that’s exactly what I was doing at this very moment. I was fighting for my life. I was fighting for my freedom.
He reluctantly tossed the mitts aside and met me at the center of the room. “You sure you’re up for this?”
I nodded, adamant in my decision. That confidence wavered, however, the moment he came up behind me, securing the inside of his elbow against my windpipe as he wrapped his arm around me. Again, he made sure the hold was gentle, allowing me to break away at any moment if I wished. And I silently thanked him for it.
“Okay, first thing you need to do is protect your airways,” he said. “I want you to take both your hands and grab my arm on each side of my elbow. Bring your shoulders up, tuck your chin down, and drop your knees. It’ll relieve some of the pressure.” He nudged my right foot. “Now, take your foot and pivot it behind mine.”
“Like what I did with the bear hug?”
“Yes, only this time, it’ll be the foot on the same side as the arm I’m using to choke you with. Your right foot goes behind my right foot. It has to lock up my leg, so make sure it’s directly in back of it—calf to calf. Then, turn your body all the way around and pull my arm down diagonally.”
With his right leg pinned against mine, I did a 180-turn and wrenched him across my body, letting him trip back and fall to the ground.
Holy crap.
I actually sighed, begetting a roguish grin from Blaine.
“Enjoying beating me up?” he drawled, propping himself up on his elbows as he remained lying on the floor. One deep breath, and he seemed to get his answer, catching whatever scent I was giving off. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. Anxiety? Relief? Liberation? It was all one big blur. All I knew was that my uncertainty left me yet again at a disadvantage, which only appeared to please Blaine all the more.
“Join me.”
“What?”
He patted the floor beside him. “For our next position.”
His inflection on that last word made my heart rate tick up a notch. The hesitation he’d exhibited a moment before was nowhere to be found, replaced by a bravado that exuded the pure sexuality his title of Crown Prince promised. It was a dare. A challenge. And the very moment I’d been dreading. But I lowered myself to the floor, lying beside him on the mat. With the hope that I could steady my thrumming pulse, I closed my eyes.
Even behind my eyelids, I could see the shadow cast above me, obscuring the overhead lights. My breathing hitched, feeling the pressure settle on my hips. I at last opened my eyes to find Blaine straddling me, his hands positioned on either side of my head, his face lingering just above my own.
That godforsaken pull in my core had my back threatening to arch off the floor, pleading with me to eliminate the sliver of space resting between us. To my relief, he sat up, just enough that he didn’t have to rely on his arms for support, because his hands settled on my neck. But they weren’t holding me. His thumbs traced the lines of my jaw while his fingers caressed the nape of my neck.
Without a word and without instructions, my right leg suddenly bent up, locking my foot behind his. As if he were the puppeteer to my very own limbs, my hands automatically drew up next and gripped his left forearm. How was he doing this? A faint magnetic pulse radiated from his skin, rippling into me. It was only then that I realized I was touching his runes. I’d never done that before. I could feel the energy pulsating from the metallic black ink, an invisible bond that silently summoned me. I pulled down on his secured arm just as the left side of my hips bucked up. With my foot pinned against his, Blaine’s weight toppled to the side, and I suddenly found myself straddling him instead.
I’d done it.
I didn’t know how, but I had escaped his hold…only to find myself in a new position that had my cheeks probably reddening to the color of strawberries.
His eyes gleamed up at me with silent approval.
What a shame, I thought, peering down at the striking young man beneath me, to be so beautiful on the outside, only to possess such a blackened heart.
“It may be black, love,” his voice purred inside my head. “But that doesn’t mean it still can’t be made of gold.”
I stiffened.
He could read my thoughts.
“Not always,” he assured, still not speaking a word aloud. “Only when you let me in.”
When had I done that?
His palms settled on my waist, exploring the curves of my body as his fingertips gently raked up the small of my back. The sensation somehow left both warmth and goose bumps perforating in its wake, leaving my skin to ache as he pulled his hands away.
“Ahem,” coughed a voice over the thrumming melody.
As if I’d been slapped, my head snapped to the side, seeing six feet of racing leather and hair product standing haughtily in the entranceway.
Val.