Carver’s bo staff swipes out at me with a ferocity and speed no human could hope to see or keep up with.

Instinct takes over since I don’t have much training yet---this is only my second day after all--and I jump back before the wood can strike my abdomen. He stops and shakes his head.

“Ma belle, it’s one thing to dodge to stay in one piece, but we learned avoidance tactics yesterday. Today, we’re trying to get you to strike back.”

I follow his movements as we circle each other on the mat. My staff clutched tightly in my hands. “I know but sometimes you move so fast, that I can barely think.”

The large stick shoots out again, and this time I counter his move with a thwack of my own. “That’s the point. Your second soul knows all about fighting, knows how to draw on the strength of the magic flowing through you. If you want to survive, it’s not even about the skills. It’s about understanding how to let go and let your inner instinct guide you. Follow me here, Morana or her assassins have lived for thousands of years by trusting their intuition. You have to learn to do the same.”

“I was human up until recently. Maybe all my killer instincts haven’t grown in yet.”

Carver drops the staff and I follow suit. The next few minutes devolve into fist and fangs, a whirling dervish of the punches and blocks we went through for two hours yesterday. Eventually, Carver lands a blow to my solar plexus that literally sends me flying into the far wall. Thick brick gives out under me and a rain of red dust falls over my body when I land. If I still needed to breathe, every bit of air would have been knocked from my lungs too.

He offers me his hand. “Again.”

“I need a minute.”

“Morana will never give you one. She’ll do this to you, and then tear your head from your neck. Is that what you want?”

I hop to my feet and pat the dust off of my yoga pants and red tank. “Of course not, but I’m not exactly Xena or Wonder Woman or whoever here.” At least not yet. “Outside of ripping heads off, I don’t know if there’s even other ways to kill someone like us.”

We start circling each other again, and then Carver’s on me so fast I barely saw the flash of movement. Fuck, do I need to get faster and stat. One arm is wrapped around my throat as he holds me from behind. With his other arm, he reaches up to point at my eyes.

“This,” he says. “Is one of the most important things to remember. We heal well, but we can’t recover from your head being torn off your shoulders.”

“Duh.” I say, struggling to break his grip. I frown as he lets me go. “How many times have you done that?”

“I’m sure Marceau has done it often enough in his long assassin’s career,” Lucian says as he enters the room. He’s wearing gi style pants, dark black ones that match his hair. And nothing else. I like my lips appreciatively at the golden expanse of his skin. “If you’re up to training her now, Marceau, then I need to help you as well.”

“I think I know how Morana fights by now.” Carver drawls.

Lucian shrugs. “I’m sure you do, but I’ve been in scrapes with every type of supernatural creature out there. We can’t just assume that the only thing Morana will throw at us is Kresova. She’s had thousands of years to make alliances too.”

I look between the two of them, the tension high in the room. Carver nods. “You make a good point. Join us.”

We all start circling each other, and now my throat’s gone thick, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. I have two huge and smokin’ hot vampire men ready to tackle me. Okay, they’re actually here to spar with me, but I’ve been getting my ass kicked with just Carver. There’s no way I can avoid two of them. I’m going to be eating mat so fast. Carver lunges at me first, aiming an upper cut for my face that I manage to dodge. Then, Lucian’s behind me and with a quick sweep of his feet under mine, I’m plunging toward the floor.

They give me time to hop up, but they’re circling me again. I can’t help but fall into a frantic rhythm with them attacking me from the front and behind: punch, parry, dodge, and weave. I’m moving so fast that I’d be out of breath normally, but Carver and Lucian only intensify the training. I roll out of a punch aimed for my throat and away from Lucian’s long arms. I’m crouched in a corner of the training room, and the fear and frustration are surging through me, it’s like adrenaline or whatever equivalent I have is shifting my body into overdrive.

I bare my fangs like a trapped animal and the two laugh with each other. They have a long history, but now they’re laughing and all buddy-buddy. Great, so the only thing that can unify Carver and Lucian is getting their violence on. And me.

Okay, actually that makes a lot of sense.

The two men stride over to me, strong and confident. They even wink at each other, probably anticipating how fast round two will be over. The instincts flare to life again, and it’s like that first night when I wasn’t yet full Kresova, just up on the roof listening to everything my new instincts told me to do. Hissing, I leap from my corner and race faster than I ever have. Leaping into the air, I aim a kick to Carver’s chest. I land squarely against him, sending him stumbling, then use the momentum to ricochet onto Lucian’s shoulders. Wrapping my legs around him, I start to squeeze and then reach down to rake my fingers over his cheeks.

Lucian flips me off of him and to the mat. Carver’s recovered enough to lift me back up, but I barely care. I’m a hissing, spitting ball of anger and fury. Now I lash out and initiate the punches instead of waiting for them to reach me. I’m making them react to the pace I set. It takes them by surprise and both men fall into a steady rhythm of countering my attack, only their age and stamina play to their advantage here as my fledgling berserker rage abates, Lucian corners me from the front and Carver slips up behind me.

Carver’s strong arms are around my shoulders, holding me captive this time. I struggle to kick him, but he’s like granite holding me in place. I realize only then that his cock is hard as stone as well and tucked firmly up against the crack of my ass.

My clit shouldn’t be throbbing in this moment, but it is.

Lucian hovers over me and strokes my hair. “You can rest now, sweetheart. I’ve never seen you in touch with your inner soul before, but you found her. It’ll take a long time to give you the strength and stamina to keep in touch with her, but you found that rage you needed.”

I’m so overcome by emotion I’m panting. Carver’s dick is still grinding into me and my pussy is drenched with need. I want both of them right now, the consorts to my Dria nature. I need them. I lean up on tip toe and lick Lucian’s lips. Then, playfully, I nip at his lip, drawing just a hint of blood. Before I’m able to lap it up, there’s clapping at the doorway.

Rowland can’t hide the smirk creeping over his face. “Well done. I think I’ve seen this movie before. The pizza guy is about to arrive with a delivery for the wrong house and you all get it on, right?”

Reina slaps his shoulder and Row rolls with the movement to avoid her hurting herself on his bulky frame. “Okay, so this is a bit more Skinemax than I’d envisioned.”

My face blushes furiously even as Carver drops his arms. It doesn’t escape my notice that as we break apart, he comes to stand a bit behind me, probably using me as a shield to block the way his own sweats must be tented. I know the feeling, my sensitive bundle of nerves is still on fire, and I want Row and Reina to leave so I can experience my lover all over again. Especially after the last few days of having Morana so in his face. I want to know Carver’s mine for sure. I want him to know I think that. No questions.

“Can you actually be of help, Rowland?” Lucian growls.

Reina rolls her eyes. “Don’t shoot the messengers. After all this, is a training room, not a free-for-all room.”

Carver shrugs. “You have no idea what kinds of things this room has seen over the centuries.”

“And eww, don’t want to. It’s called ‘Lysol.’ Invest in it,” Reina says.

“Enough!” I shout. “I do not want to deal with bickering this early.” And when I’m sexually frustrated at fuck. “What’s the big emergency that you couldn’t wait till we were done.”

“Or climaxed,” Row mutters. He straightens up and sobers instantly at the death glare Lucian sends him. “Anyway, we just found out there’s a Fête du Sanguine that Morana has planned for the festivities. She announced it this morning. It’s the talk of every faction. I think she’s trying to cover for how much chaos got out in New Orleans by pleasing the other races with something bold.”

“But they haven’t had one since the French Revolution,” Carver says. “I was still fairly young when the last Fête happened.”

Lucian starts to pace beside us, his muscles rippling like a jungle cat with coiled strength in every move, like an effing panther in control of all he surveys. “She really must be feeling pressure for the unsanctioned fledglings on her watch.”

Reina raises her hand. “Okay, remember the human and the newbie---”

“Hey!” I object. “Fated Dria queen here.”

“You still know basically as much about vampires as I do,” Reina corrects. I can’t really argue there. “Can someone please explain to me what’s a fet-a?”

“It’s the Fête du Sanguine,” Carver corrects, and the way the French rolls expertly off his tongue goes straight to my clit again. Damn it.

“And?” I prod, desperately trying to stay focused.

“It’s the ‘Blood Day Masquerade,’ essentially,” Lucian adds. “One court captures or procures however they can the blood of a magical creature, something far more potent than human can ever be. It might be Aeos or Lycan or even shifter.”

“Shifter?” Reina asks.

“A skinwalker in some parlance, but a true melding of wolf and human soul. Different than the Lycans but no less powerful,” Lucian adds. “If she’s going all out with a Fête du Sanguine, then it’s not just a few representatives of the courts who’ll come. They’ll have everyone who can make it in attendance.”

“Really?” I ask.

Carver nods even as he eyes Rowland who also chimes in. “Yes,” Row says. “They won’t get this chance to dine on whatever supernatural creature is offered for centuries or even a millennium. It’s a rare chance and anyone the court can spare will leave.”

“Great, and that helps us how?” I snap, but it’s not all my fault. Reina and Row busting in to tell me about the newest, specialized blood orgy Morana can arrange has left me with the girl version of serious blue balls. My temper’s shot. “I don’t get it.”

Carver takes my hand in his, and I think I see Lucian lean closer to me. Hopefully at least.

“Ma belle, it means that the ranks of the Draugur will be severely thinned and that we have the chance we need to go in undetected.”

Row nods again. “Agreed, if we’re going to make a move to save Old Abe, this is our shot.”

“Perfect,” I say, my own frustration lost in the chance to save the king before all hope is lost. “When do we roll out?”

Lucian quirks his head at me. “Soon, I might have a plan.”