She might not know it yet. But I do.
Fifteen minutes past midnight now. I’ve waited long enough. She’s not coming. Probably passed out from exhaustion after her little orgy. I crack my knuckles instead of punching the nearest tree.
Then, movement at the edge of the clearing catches my eye. I go still, watching, waiting.
And then she’s there, pushing through the low-hanging branches, snow dusting her dark hair. Rose. Looking flushed and alive against the backdrop of a cold winter’s night.
“You’re late.” I do nothing to disguise my contempt.
She approaches, chin up, unrepentant. I scan her from head to toe. Her hair is loose around her shoulders. She’s wearing a thick coat that doesn’t hide the faint marks on her neck, and the sight of them sends fresh fury coursing through me.
“I didn’t think you were going to show.” I turn away so she won’t see the rage in my eyes.
“Why wouldn’t I?” She sounds genuinely confused, and that only makes it worse.
“Perhaps your evening activities?”
She stiffens, realization dawning on her face. “You felt?—”
“Everything,” I finish for her. “Every fucking thing.”
Rose has the decency to look embarrassed, but not ashamed. Never ashamed. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
“Didn’t you?” I step closer, invading her space. “Maybe you wanted me to feel it. Maybe that was the point.”
Her eyes narrow. “Not everything is about you, Ash.”
I stare at her. “When it comes to your magic, it is. Never forget who owns it. Who ownsyou.”
She sighs. “Sure, Ash. Are we training tonight or not?”
“Oh, we’re training.” I smile.
Without warning, I hurl a bolt of magic at her, far more deadly than the usual warm-up exercises I’ve been having her do. She manages to throw up a shield, but it’s sloppy, fragmenting on impact. The force knocks her back a step.
“Sloppy,” I say. “Again.”
I don’t give her time to recover, sending three rapid blasts in succession. She blocks the first two but takes the third one on her shoulder. She stumbles, gasping in pain.
“Too slow,” I taunt. “What’s wrong? Tired? Sore?”
She glares at me, her mouth pressed in a line.
“You look weak, Rose.” I circle her, magic gathering at my fingertips, “Like someone who spent all her energy elsewhere.”
This time when I attack, she’s ready. Her shield holds, golden light rippling across its surface. She pushes back, sending a burst of magic that nearly catches me off guard.
For the next hour, I push her harder than I ever have before. Make her conjure more complex shields, deflect attacks from multiple angles, throw her own power back at her with increasing force. I’m relentless, allowing no breaks, no moments to catch her breath.
Sweat beads on her forehead despite the cold, her breath coming in sharp pants that cloud the air between us. She’s getting tired, making mistakes. I press my advantage, sending a whip of magic that catches her around the ankle and yanks her feet out from under her.
She lands hard on her back, the air knocked from her lungs. Before she can rise, I’m standing over her, one foot planted beside her hip.
“Pathetic,” I say. “Is this the best you can do?”
She struggles to her feet, clearly angry, which makes two of us. “What the hell is your problem tonight?”
“My problem?” I laugh. “I’m not the one who can’t focus.”
