I realise the black-clad vampire is looking at me, head tilted.
‘Sorry. I was miles away.’
‘I was just asking your boyfriend if he cared for a rematch. And he’s making excuses.’ Laughter threads the smooth tones coming from under the mask. ‘Says he needs to stay with you or some bullshit.’
I blink. ‘Er, well, I guess he does and?—’
‘Bollocks. You’re perfectly safe here. Flynn will sit with you.’
Flynn is the other fighter. He lopes over to us, vaulting the barrier and sitting next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. Up close, the masked face and goggles are disconcerting, but there’s a sly smile in his voice. ‘Yeah. I promise I won’t hit on you too much.’
‘You guys are both dickheads, you know that?’ Michael, grinning, bends down and kisses me thoroughly. My breath is unsteady when he lifts his head. ‘You going to be okay?’
‘Go on.’ I give him a little push. ‘I know you’re dying to.’
Eddard hands Michael a moulded leather chest guard, forearm and shin guards, which he straps on, plus a helmet with a metal faceguard. It doesn’t seem like enough, not for facing a vampire. I push down my worry as they head to the rack of practice blades. People clap, calling out as Eddard moves to the centre of the ring. Michael, twirling his sword nonchalantly, comes to face him.
Eddard drops into a crouch. Michael’s sword comes up, instantly. And it’s on.
My nails dig into my hands and I try not to cry out as Eddard strikes, arrow-swift. But Michael, somehow, blocks him, countering with one of his own. Move number 13 from the Morningstar, I realise, remembering his body against mine.
‘Don’t worry.’ Flynn leans closer to me. ‘He’ll be fine out there. Even if he is a bit rusty.’
‘A bit rusty?’ Michael is trading blows with Eddard, moving so quickly I can hardly make out what he’s doing. If that’s rusty, I wonder what he’d be like at full power.
‘Is it harder … I mean, wearing the goggles, does it make it more difficult to…’
‘Eddard is fighting at full capacity,’ Flynn says. ‘But yeah, it’s weird. Takes a lot of time and training to get used to it, especially when you’re blood-borne. Goes against all our instincts to be out here in the light.’ The goggles swing my way. ‘Plus, of course, you can’t see how pretty I am.’
I grin.
‘You and Michael known each other long?’
‘Long enough.’
‘Hey, just asking.’ Flynn raises both hands, sitting back. I feel bad.
‘Sorry. I mean, he and—Michael!’ He’s gone down, groaning, holding his left arm. I half-stand, but Flynn pulls me back, gently.
‘Don’t worry. He’s tough. Eddard has hit him harder than that before.’
‘That seems hard enough!’ But Michael is already back on his feet, his blade spinning as he unleashes a flurry of strikes. Eddard parries, laughing. As I watch, a pattern emerges. For every two of Eddard’s moves, Michael does one. It’s as though he can anticipate what comes next.
Then all of a sudden, they come together, a blade at each other’s throat.
‘Ha, nice one!’ Flynn gets to his feet, clapping.
The other spectators clap, too. Eddard and Michael shake hands. Michael is limping but, as he takes off the helmet, he’s grinning, his entire face alight. His shirt, damp with sweat, clings to his muscles. Oh darkness. He racks all the equipment then comes over, still breathing hard, a wild light of joy in his eyes. Before I can speak his lips are on mine, his arms around me. Then he picks me up, slinging me over one shoulder.
‘Hey!’ I smack him as he carries me away from the ring, Flynn and Eddard’s laughter ringing behind us. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Taking my woman back to our place.’ His hand slides across my backside, squeezing.
‘You cannot carry me all the way back to the house!’
‘I’m pretty sure I can.’
‘Put me down!’ I pinch him, hard.
