As Paul’s focus landed on them again, Cole took a deep breath to centre himself and remember that he was built for this. Had spent years as a human training in martial arts. Mentally crossing his fingers that this wouldn’t end in tears, he launched himself at Logan.
His first punch caught Logan off guard, knocking him backwards. Giving him no time to recover, Cole followed it up with another punch and a kick.
He was still getting used to his own strength and grimaced when Logan hit the mat with a thud and the unmistakable crack of bone.
Fuck.
Cole wanted to rush over and check he was okay, but Paul was watching so he stepped back and waited for Logan to get up.
“Give me a second.” Logan gingerly touched his ribs, grimacing, and Cole imagined the bones knitting back together. He now knew from experience how unpleasant that was.
With a groan, Logan pushed himself back to his feet.
“Again!” Paul yelled.
So Cole launched another attack, used a mix of his own fighting skills and the techniques he’d seen Paul’s unit use.
Logan was strong, but he wasn’t a trained fighter. Not like those in the HRU.
And not like Cole.
He got in a few hits and blocked a lot of Cole’s attacks, but more often than not, it was Logan who ended up on the floor.
Sweat ran down Cole’s back, this being the most exercise he’d had in weeks. And much to his horror, he found himself enjoying it. The sparring, the smell of sweat clinging to him and Logan, and the sounds of the fighting going on around them.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
With Cole distracted by that thought, Logan managed to block his next attack, dodging Cole’s punch and getting inside his defences. The next thing Cole knew, he was flat on his back with Logan pinning him to the mat.
The heat of his body, his scent, the feel of his hands on Cole’s skin... too much. It was all too fucking much after so many days without. Overwhelmed and unable to control himself, Cole reached for Logan, fingers finding bare skin where his T-shirt rode up.
Logan froze, eyes widening in panic, the little shake of his head doing nothing to quell the desire building in Cole’s body, threatening to consume him.
“Cole, no,” Logan hissed, grip tightening to the point of pain, but all that did was add a sharp edge to the pleasure. Cole liked that too.
“What the fuck, Cole?” Paul’s voice cut through the air, as effective as a bucket of ice water.
Cole’s heart leapt to his throat as all thoughts of sex fled his mind, replaced by the sheer terror that he’d fucked this up.
“You have black belts in two martial arts. Granted, you haven’t been part of this unit for long, but by the fucking Goddess, you can’t let someone like Logan get the better of you.” Logan scowled but kept quiet. “That’s embarrassing for you and the rest of us.” He gave Cole a look of distaste before turning away. “Do better.”
Relief rushed through him. He didn’t give a shit that Paul had called him out in front of everyone, too thankful that his inability to keep himself in check hadn’t cost them everything.
His hands still rested against Logan’s side. Sensing Paul watching, Cole sent a silent prayer that Logan would heal quickly—and forgive him—and rolled them over.
Logan’s gasp of surprise quickly cut off as Cole punched him hard, holding nothing back this time, and the second his fist connected with Logan’s jaw, he knew it was bad.
Shit.
Logan’s head snapped to the side, the sickening crack of bone turning Cole’s stomach. He knelt up, straddling Logan’s stomach, poised for his counterattack, but it didn’t come.
Logan didn’t move.
A hand landed on Cole’s shoulder, making him jump. He’d been so focused on Logan, he hadn’t sensed Paul’s approach.
Paul let out a low whistle and crouched down next to him. “Maybe you will fit in with my team.” He reached out, touch surprisingly gentle as he felt around Logan’s jaw.
Cole ground his teeth, fists clenched as he buried the urge to slap his hand away.
