She has seen me fight. She knows I’m a worthy opponent for Bjorn.
But she has also been in my head, in my body. After this bond, we’re as close as two people can possibly be. She knows I’m a criminal. A thief, con artist, and a bluffer who rarely ever plays clean or fair.
So, of course, that’s what she expects from me.
For me to be the Jax she’s known since day one.
But I’m not the same man anymore.
Bjorn and I circle each other, neither one of us rushing to make the first move.
He’s surveying me, watching for a tell, a subtle hint at an injury or a weak spot. And I do the same.
Bjorn attacks quickly and brutally.
One second, he’s a good seven feet away, and the next, he’s right in front of me, huge fist swinging.
I barely manage to dodge the punch by ducking. I throw a punch at his side myself, but he blocks it and sends another blow right to my face.
It lands on my nose.
Painfully.
Stars explode behind my eyes as pain rocks through my skull. I waste no time retreating away from him.
The tension that seeps from the group watching us is thick in the air. They’re eating it up, Bloom and Fern chanting our names while Emil hoots like a damn owl.
My heartbeat stutters. It takes me a moment to realize, it’s not mine.
Bjorn leaves little time for me to recover. With a roar, he charges at me, fists swinging.
All I can do is deflect, dodge, and try to block as many of his punches as I can. My muscles scream at me, and my breathing turns labored pretty soon.
Bjorn does land a couple of punches to my ribs, and one more to my jaw.
Blood pours from my nose, over my lips. The taste of copper fills my mouth.
I retreat again and spit the blood out on the stone ground.
Bjorn remains in his spot. His naked broad chest rises and falls as he breathes. All this effort has cost him something.
Good.
The more tired he is, the more sloppy he’ll be.
I prowl the perimeter of our sparring circle, keeping an eye on my opponent.
He’s strong, and big. Despite his size, he’s pretty fast, too. But he’s not the most gracious of the fighters.
He relies on his strength most, the rest comes second.
And whenever he swings a punch, his left heel lifts from the ground and he twists his ankle sideways.
That is my opening.
When our gazes lock, I wink.
Nostrils flaring, Bjorn charges at me. I stand still until the very last second. When I see his heel lift, ankle twist, I duck low and with my leg, I swipe over his left ankle.
