She took it, their hands touching briefly before she turned it over to inspect it. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Did you make this?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“I almost don’t want to practice with it. It should be displayed somewhere. The detail is incredible.”
Anubis rolled his shoulders, feeling too seen. He often searched for the best materials, finding quiet places to work with his hands as he enjoyed the periods of calm.
“It would be a waste. I made it to be used.”
She smiled shyly at him. “If you’re sure... I guess.”
He smirked. “I can always make another for you.”
“I’d like that.”
A possible future played through his mind. He could see them together, sitting by a fire outside his cabin in Alaska, as she watched him carve something just for her. It was an illusion. A temptation he reluctantly pushed away.
Focus.
“Now, hold out the weapon.”
She did, offering it to him like a gift.
Anubis shook his head and repositioned her arm. He bent her elbow slightly and lowered her hand. “You want to keep your movements close to your body, so you are not telegraphing your intent. If it comes to a fight where you need to use a dagger, you need every advantage you can get.”
He brushed his fingers over her right shoulder, trailing them across her collarbones. “Never lift the blade above your shoulders.”
“Okay,” she said shakily.
His hand skimmed down to her waist, his palm slowing a moment before ghosting over her hip. He dragged his fingers slowly across to the other side, feeling her muscles tense, then soften under his touch. She shivered.He loved seeing how responsive she was. With so little provocation, her reaction was honest. Her body didn’t lie to him.
“Never drop the dagger below your hips and keep it within your shoulders. Understand?”
“Yes,” she said, breathless.
Anubis moved behind her, his steps silent on the mat. He placed his hands on her hips, tugging her back toward him, angling and fine-tuning her stance. “Move your right leg back and turn your body slightly.”
“This feels like I’m putting distance between myself and whoever I’m fighting.” Her pulse throbbed beneath his palm where it rested against her hip bone.
“It makes you a smaller target and harder to disarm,” he explained, correcting her posture. His hands traveled up her spine, his callused fingers finding each vertebra, coaxing her body into proper alignment. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin material of her shirt, and he could hear her breathing change when he touched her.
She grumbled but remained pliant under his touch. “Makes sense, I guess.”
His hands traveled up her frame with light, guiding pressure. A touch on her shoulder blade. Again on the base of her neck. Each point of contact deliberate, teaching her body the proper fighting stance even as he learned every inch of her.
His lips tilted in satisfaction. Better.Much better.
“Now bend your knees.”
When she did, Anubis leaned in, her cinnamon scent mixing with her sweat. His breath fanned against the shell of her ear, and she shivered again. “Now raise your other arm as a guard.”
Her hand steadied around the dagger as she did as he instructed. The weapon stopped trembling, and he hummed. Then he brushed his lips against her neck.
Iliana moaned. The low, throaty sound sent fire racing through his veins. Her scent heightened with arousal.
Fuck.
He yanked himself back, his pulse pounding. Distance. He needed distance before he did something they weren’t ready for. He wanted to press his lips to her skin and taste her. To see how far she would let him go. She had no idea what she was doing to him. His self-control had its limitations, and she was testing every single one.
