* * *
‘Dammit!’ I drop the wooden practice sword, my arms and shoulders aching. ‘I cannot get the thirteenth strike today.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve only been training a short while, so to have already learnt the Morningstar, even at a slow pace, is remarkable.’ Varin, shirtless as usual, folds his arms. ‘You remind me of your father.’
I pout, still frustrated. By a lot of things, not just the Morningstar. Joaquin is closeted with his entourage, feeding, and I took the opportunity to come downstairs, hoping time in the practice ring might help burn some of my tension away. But it’s just making things worse. ‘I just… The angle, when you do it. Could you show me again, but more slowly?’
‘Maybe I can help?’ Michael’s voice is quiet.
I start, then blush all over. I had no idea he was watching.
‘Of course. If you don’t mind, please remove your shirt, so Emelia can better see the pattern of breath.’ Varin nods appraisingly as Michael enters the ring. ‘Are you all right with that, Emelia? Michael has been training with me, as you know, and is proficient in these movements.’
‘It’s fine.’ I’m very conscious of being sweaty and dirty, especially when Michael removes his shirt, hanging it over the barrier at the edge of the ring.
God and darkness, he’s beautiful. Yet there are scars on his golden skin, biting across his ribcage, along one smooth pec, silvery white marks of trauma. I want to touch them all, smooth the hurt from him.
He takes a practice sword from the rack, and steps into the first position. Then, graceful as water flowing, he moves through the Morningstar. Slow enough that I can see what he’s doing, yet with such control and precision I know he can do it far more quickly should he wish. I try not to stare at his bunching abs, the muscles in his arms, his beautiful strong back, as he pivots and strikes.
When he gets to the thirteenth move, I watch carefully, but can’t see where I’m going wrong. It looks like what I think I’m doing, yet somehow I’m not.
‘Very nice,’ Varin nods his head approvingly as Michael finishes. ‘Emelia, try it again.’
Feeling as though my entire body is blushing, I start the routine once more. When I get to number thirteen, Michael stops me.
Then, oh darkness, he comes up behind me, fitting his broad chest to my back, his arms coming around mine to clasp my wrists. ‘It’s the angle, here,’ he says. ‘Your wrists are slightly out of alignment.’ He moves my hand, then takes me through the strike again.
It flows, perfectly.
‘Yes!’ Varin claps his hands. ‘Again!’
We repeat the strike, over and over, Varin clapping the beat for us. And, under cover of one of the claps, Michael’s mouth comes to my ear.
‘Will you come and see me?’
‘I can’t. You know why,’ I whisper, barely moving my mouth, as Varin claps again.
‘How do you know this isn’t a work request?’
‘Because you would have asked me like a normal person.’ I snap, slightly.
He releases me, stepping back. He’s breathing harder, perhaps, than he needs to, considering how slowly we were moving. ‘I hope that helped.’ He is all politeness. But heat lies in his gaze. I feel its answer in my own.
‘It really did. Thank you.’ I hope Varin puts my flushed face down to all the work I’ve been doing.
‘How’s your shoulder, Michael?’ Varin asks. ‘Did you get it looked at?’
‘What happened to your shoulder?’
Michael’s stormy gaze slants my way, a grin tugging the curve of his mouth. I glare at him.
‘A statue fell as I was passing. In the gallery.’
I grab a glass of water and drink it down. ‘Is that where that bruise is from?’ I’d noticed it, a smudge of purple across one smooth shoulder, but thought it was from training.
‘Hmm.’ He gulps down his own water. ‘Luckily I spotted it moving and got out the way before it landed on my head.’ Heshrugs his shirt back on, and I try not to stare as he does up the buttons.
‘Prince Joaquin and his entourage have played several pranks since staying here.’ Varin’s voice is tight. ‘Things that, perhaps, would not trouble vampires overmuch. But they might need reminding that both you and your lieutenant are human, my lady.’
