“Brats snivel,” he said.
I let the power flow, holding it, directing it, riding it. My magic seemed to whisper,This is pleasure. More.
That was weird. Magic didn’t talk. My breathing evened out. Calm descended on me. I stood and took up a stance.
“Good, Angelina. Excellent control. I am pleased.”
We ran through several moves, then put them together in a sequence. It was new to me but with Walter’s help, I could see how to fit the move into the proper steps, how to block the move, and how to incorporate it into others.
“Okay. I got it,” I said.
Walter attacked. The wooden swords and vamp-killers clacked rapidly, solid powerful raps, violently brutal, relentless. Blocking over and over, my swords circled in a ring of death, trying to penetrate Walter’s own arcs. We danced across the small area of the traditional fighting ring. Around and around. Back and forth. My magic raced, feeding my strikes, sharpening my vision and my pre-awareness of Walter’s moves.
Fast.Vamp-fast. Faster than I could process with my human mind. I was at the mercy of my magic. The sound of clacking swords was like castanets. Magic fed my body.
After forty-five seconds—a very long match—Walter lunged and touched my chest with his sword. It was more like a solid hammer blow, and it knocked me to my butt, rolling me out of the ring.
“Again,” Walter said. “This time use what you see. Stop my blows.Use your bloody magic, girl!”
“Yessss,” my magic hissed.
I folded my legs, tilted my body forward, and unfolded myself, levering up without using my hands. Still trying to get my breath, I attacked.
In two moves, Walter was down. My wooden longsword at his throat. My foot on his sword arm.
His tanto was at my knee.
Walter laughed in glee.
I had never heard his human laughter, happy, joyful. At the sound, my magic vanished. The lights, the colors, theknowingsdisappeared, dissolved into real time. Into reality.
I stepped back, exhausted. Shaking. Gasping. I had never caught the breath he had knocked out of me. My limbs were so heavy they felt as if I were wearing weights.
“Your magic is gone?” Walter asked.
I nodded, wanting to fall to the floor and moan. The room began to spin.
Overhead,Ojosissued a loudbing. The British butler voice said, “Someone has stepped to the front entrance of the private residences.”
“Ojos,” Walter said, “on screen.”
The NFL game disappeared. On the screen a female form in a long winter coat and carrying a large cloth bag stood at the apartments’ front door. Not The Firm’s business front door, which was only a few steps away. All we could see was the top of her head until she lifted her face toward the bell.
The woman was wearing a formfitting red dress beneath her unbuttoned coat, a clear invitation in the cold wind. She was a brunette, dark eyed with a narrow face, lovely. She pressed the bell.
“Looks familiar. Do you know her?” I asked Walter, tryingto control my breath enough to not sound as if I were dying. I wasn’t successful.
“Yes. Londyn Simms,” Walter said.
He wasn’t even breathing hard. He wasn’t breathing at all.Dang bloodsucker.
“She runs the tea shop down the street,” Walter said, his voice unconcerned.
He hadn’t gone all mesmeric, using the steel tone of his protective mode. I staggered to my left and leaned against the wall, trying to catch up on my breathing. Hoping for my heart to slow down some. Trying to pretend I didn’t hurt all over.
“Evan Junior has been having relations with her.”
“Ohhh.” I was seriously grossed out but hid it. My brother had hormones. I knew that, but it was disgusting. “Just sex or love interest?” I asked. EJ had casual relationships, nothing more, but who knew. It could happen someday.
