Хлоя Нейл - Twice Bitten

Thank God the lights were off. The Master vampire taunting the Novitiate would have been a pretty comical sight.

You’re not concentrating, he silently said, his voice ringing over the clamor of honking trucks.

My skin was beginning to itch with irritation. It was loud, and it was dark, and I was being pushed and prodded by a Master vampire who relied on action flicks to teach me how to fight.

I’m doing the best I can, I assured him.

He kicked again, the back of his foot hitting my side. I parried my forearm against his leg, but he was gone and away without effective contact. I’d forgotten about his speed . . . the fact that he could move with supernatural efficiency. I was fast at the Katas, of course, but those were practiced moves. As we obviously knew, sparring was an altogether different kind of animal.

I’ve seen you do better, he answered.

A tingle of magic lifted in the air, maybe related to the teasing cant of his words. I felt that tingle—like a breeze in the air—across my face.

He was standing in front of me.

It took me a second to realize what I’d done—that I’d determined where he was standing with neither hearing nor sight . . . but with magic. Might as well take advantage.

I punched out, but he blocked me with his forearm. Before I could protest, he turned, and his back was to mine and his hand was on my arm and he was using his leverage to throw me to the ground.

And there I was, flat on my back again.

The fall hadn’t been especially hard, but it was hard enough to take the wind out of me. When I could breathe again, I barked out a curse.

You’re hardly trying, was his response. This time, there was venom in his voice.

I picked myself up off the ground. I don’t know what you want me to do.

Then he was in front of me again. I struck out, but he grabbed my arm again and yanked me closer. Fight, goddamnit.

Too pissed off to consider the possibility that he’d baited me, I did just that. I rotated my wrists to grab his hand, then pushed his arm up at the elbow. I twisted, and then used my body weight to push him off balance and throw him down. I finished the move on his side on one knee.

Better, he said, flat on the ground, but there wasn’t much time for celebration. Before I had a chance to react, he was up again, and he’d pulled me around and down on my back.

And then he was back in his favorite position—spreadeagle on top of me, his hands pinning my wrists to the floor.

I rolled my eyes in the darkness.

Ready to tap out? he asked.

I ignored the perk of physical interest and answered with action, lifting my left leg in a scissor kick and using inertia to reverse our positions. I managed to get on top of him, but I didn’t stay there for long. He rolled me over again, and then I rolled him over again, and there we were, two vampires, rolling around on the floor like children. I was again glad the lights were out and we were out of view of the rest of the House. (Or so I assumed. Were they better than I at seeing in the dark? If not, they were getting a pretty crappy show.)

I finally managed to throw him off, then scrambled to my feet and felt the slight vibration in the mats as he bounced back onto his. We circled each other for a moment, but when I raised a hand to block a shot I was sure was headed toward my face, he grabbed my wrist, then yanked me toward him until my body was snug against the long line of his.

My heart tripped.

We stood there in darkness, my mind absorbed by the feel of one of his hands around my wrist, the other pressed to the small of my back.

Ethan was tall enough that the top of my head just reached his chin. I kept my gaze level with his collarbone—afraid that if I looked up, he’d use the move as an excuse to look down. Our lips would align, and that would be the end of me.

Slowly—treacherously slowly—he lowered his head, his lips against my hair. Goose bumps rose on my arms; my eyes drifted closed; my skin tingled with an intoxicating combination of lust and power. We were leaking magic again, the sharp, bright prickle of it filling the space Ethan and I occupied.

That was when my eyes flashed open, as I realized what he’d been trying to teach me.

He let me loose my hands, and I pressed one palm against his chest to push him back a few steps. He moved willingly and gave me space to learn.

I couldn’t see in the dark, and I certainly couldn’t hear with the din of noise around us . . . but just as I’d done a moment ago, I could sense the magic in the air.

That punch hadn’t been a fluke. Detecting magic was a different kind of sight, but it was a kind of sight just the same.

There, in the dark, a few steps in front of him, I lifted a hand and trailed my fingers over the electric currents around us, feeling the bumps and ridges of magic as it leaked from our bodies. I could sense the knotted mix of our magic in the space between us, and the slow fade of sensation the farther I drew my fingers away.

I let my fingers rise and fall as the pressure shifted, not unlike sticking a hand outside a moving car’s window.

Most important, the current shifted as he moved, creating a breezy tingle beneath my fingers. I felt him move to my right, body straight as he faced me and then aimed a roundhouse kick at my face.

It was his favorite move, and he’d signaled it perfectly.

I dropped low, and as he came around I offered up my own roundhouse, a low kick that brought his other leg out from beneath him.

He hit the ground.

As if by his silent command, the music went off, and the lights came on. I blinked into the sudden vacuum of noise and the brightness of the overhead lights.

The room, the audience, was completely silent, probably absorbed by the sight of the Sentinel on her feet—and their Master on the ground.

I wouldn’t call it a victory. After all, I only really tripped him.

But that was something. It wasn’t everything, but it was a step forward.

Ethan put his hands behind him, then lifted his legs, rolled his body weight, and flipped onto his feet. He slid me a glance.

I swallowed, not entirely comfortable that I’d put my Master on the floor again, even if I had eventually come to learn the lesson he’d been trying to teach.

Then his expression softened.

“Better,” he said.

I bowed respectfully, the student thanking the teacher for a lesson well taught. That lesson done, it was time to move on to the next crisis. “When do we leave for the pre-meeting?”

“In an hour. Get changed and meet me in the basement.”

I nodded, then walked back to the edge of the mat and grabbed my T-shirt, shoes, and, most crucial, my katana. I assumed I was going to need it.

CHAPTER FIVE BOYS’ NIGHT OUT

“ What do you wear if you’re playing security for alpha shape-shifters?”

I stood in front of my open closet in a robe, but glanced back at Lindsey, who sat cross-legged on my bed, a bag of strawberry licorice sticks in her lap.

“Nothing at all?” she said with a grin.

“I’m wearing clothes.”

“Spoilsport. But if you’re going to play prude, might as well play sexy prude. Didn’t you say Gabriel mentioned leather?”

The snark aside, she had a point. After all, I did own a set of buttery black leather that had been a gift from Mallory and Catcher for my twenty-eighth birthday—snug pants, bandeau-type corset, and trim, motorcycle-style jacket. It was a fabulous outfit, but it was so urban-fantasy book cover.

“Vampires in leather are so cliché,” I said.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, but the shifters would appreciate it. They’re all over leather.”

“Yeah, I got that sense.” But that much leather—and that little torso coverage—wasn’t my ideal fighting ensemble, so I flipped through some tank tops, looking for something that might replace the bandeau bra. On the other hand, leather pants and a tank top seemed a little too Linda Hamilton.