Man, Jasper reallyhatespeople knowing he’s not impenetrable—even more than me.
“Right…that’s it. Stepintothe strike with your weight thrusting forward…”
I pant as I mimic Jasper’s example, putting my weight behind the sword as I stab the dummy. “This thing weighs as much as I do, I swear to fuck. My arms are going to be noodles tomorrow.”
“You can lift it and swing it, shrimp. That means it’s viable for use, even if it’s only in a pinch.”
Groaning as I go back to the beginning stance, I wait for him to tell me to do it again. The dragon demon has stripped off his shirt, revealing hisgorgeous tattoos, and it’s been distracting me ever since. I have no idea why he’s sweating more than me, but the scent is also making the colors inside me swirl around excitedly. I’ve had to tamp that down while also telling my lady bits to fuck off so my brain can comprehend his damn words for almost an hour now.
My arms will not be the only things that are going to be mush by the time we get back.
“This time, I want you to stab, then deflect quickly, and get out of range. Your footwork must be light with and without a weapon, but it’s harder when your stamina is running low.”
Sighing, I grit my teeth as I force myself to continue, following the instructions as best as I can. I’m not too tired to continue, mind, or I would tell him, but I’m getting there. “This would be easier if I weren’t struggling to keep this damn thing aloft, you know.”
“Easy doesn’t save your life,” he replies firmly. “If you can do it on the difficult setting, you can do it when it doesn’t take as much energy.”
“Yes, taskmaster,” I mutter as I set the pose again and wait for him to nod. The second time, I’m faster, and I growl under my breath when he’s right. The repetition of each move helps me cement it in mind and body, while also building my strength. His relentless demands aren’t to make me unable to hobble home as much as they are designed to challenge me.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to punch him in the nuts right now, though.
“Water time,” I gasp after the next run. “Definitely and assuredly water time.”
With a sharp bob of his head, Jasper acquiesces as promised, and I drop the broadsword on the ground. I walk over to my bag, pulling out a bottle to throw to him, and then grab my own. My throw isn’t exactly screaming ‘this kid is ready for the majors’, but he doesn’t comment as he catches it. Jasper has been weirdly detached since we started the session—not at all as open as he was before—and I swallow a huge gulp of the liquid as I consider that.
“You’re… trying really hard.” His jaw ticks as he dumps a little of the water on his head, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to make a sound as it sluices over him. “Despite your lack of previous training and physical power, you’re putting every ounce of effort you have into this. That is impressive.”
I blink up at him, my mind warring between Jasper giving me a compliment and his ridiculous water show. My entire brain is shorting out as my mouth hangs open, and I have to look like a goddamn trout sitting here. Closing myeyes, I shake my head as if that will get all the conflicting shit out of it, then clear my throat. “Um… thanks. And, uh, I appreciate you being patient. I’m not a slow study most of the time, but physical sports and such have never really been my forte.”
He snorts, and I open my eyes to see him smirking at me, all tattoos and water droplets and low-slung joggers. “Gee, I never would have figured that out on my own, shrimp.”
Danger, danger, danger, Kat Camponella! Avert your fucking eyes!
Listening to my panicked brain, I dart my gaze to the ground as I chuckle nervously. “Yep, I hide my non-sports loving side pretty well. Luckily, the whole shifter thing is helping with that, right?”
I feel his stare on me as I find anything in the world to look at besides him. My body is both exhausted and humming with excitement—two things that donotgo together and won’t end well. Having him watch me struggle isn’t helping, and I squirm in my seat as I try to figure out what the hell to do. I take another drink of the water, praying it lowers the temperature a bit so I can finish this lesson without embarrassing the fuck out of myself.
“Shrimp, are you okay? You look like… well, you sort of look like you need to take a massive shit, and?—”
“No!” I shout as my eyes widen and I look at him. “No, no. Not that. Don’t be gross. I’m just… uh, tired. But nottootired, so once I’m hydrated we can… continue.”
His expression goes from teasing to suspicious in a blink, so I knock back another drink from my bottle to cover myself. “Dude, having to poo isn’t a big deal. Is that something they shame you for up there? Fuck, humans are weird. It’s a bodily function.”
I don’t have an answer for that without giving myself away, so I just shrug as I set my bottle on the bench. “I didn’t want you to think we had to leave yet. We’ve got like…thirty more minutes before the others will get out of Intro to Fae. I figure we can squeeze a lot in during that time.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I plan to wring every second of energy out of you until you’re ready to collapse.” Jasper grins evilly, and my insides hum again. “Now put the sword on the rack and we’ll go back to hand-to-hand. You’re going to keep me from pinning you to the ground.”
Sweet Lucifer’s robes, I will not survive this without making a fool of myself, will I?
i hope ur miserable until ur dead
Xerxes
Friday is the day when a lot of my classes don’t align with the rest of the caliphate. I have labs and studios relating to my design focus, and few ‘general’ requirements. They even go later than the rest of the guys’ sessions, which puts me behind on everything that’s happened.
I wasn’t concerned about it until KK arrived and we accepted her into the fold. Now, it bothers the fuck out of me, though these classes definitely make it easier to create clothing that will work for various events and potential needs. Being non-binary myself creates a special latitude in what I create, no matter what class it’s for, and the professors simply have to accept what my vision is—even if they grumble and bitch under their breath.
Being part of the royal court helps, obviously, because no one wants their shit getting back to the people who commission the most fashion pieces in the entire realm.
