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"So, what's happening between you and Quinn?"
Nothing had happened, and that was the whole problem. After making such a song and dance about me upholding my end of the deal we'd made, he'd basically played absent lover for the last few months. I blew out a frustrated breath, lifting the sweaty strands of hair from my forehead. "Can't we have this discussion after I play with Kellen?"
"No," he said, and blurred so fast that he literally disappeared from normal sight. And while I could have tracked his heat signature with the infrared of my vampire vision, I didn't actually need to, because my hearing and nose were wolf-sharp. Not only could I hear his light steps on the vinyl mats as he circled around me, but I could track the breeze of his spicy, leathery scent.
Both were now approaching from behind.
I dove out of the way, twisting around even as I hit the mat, and lashed out with a foot. The blow connected hard and low against the back of his leg, and he grunted, his form reappearing as he stumbled and fought to remain standing.
I scrambled upright, and lunged toward him. I wasn't fast enough by half. He scooted well out of reach and shook his head. "You're not taking this seriously, Riley."
"Yes, I am." Just not as seriously as he'd like me to. Not this evening, anyway.
"Are you that desperate to fight Gautier?"
"No, but I am that desperate to see Kellen." Sexual frustration wasn't a good thing for anyone, but it was particularly bad for a werewolf. Sex was an ingrained part of our culture - we needed it as much as a vampire needed blood. And this goddamn training had been taking up so much of my free time that I hadn't even been able to get down to the Blue Moon for some action.
I blew out another breath, and tried to think calm thoughts. As much as I didn't want to hurt my brother, if that was the only way out of here, then I might have to try.
But if I did succeed in beating him, then Jack might take that as a sign I was ready for the big one. And part of me feared that - feared that no matter what Jack said, my brother was right when he said that I shouldn't be doing this. That I was never going to be ready for it, no matter how much training I got.
That I'd screw it all up, and put everyone's life in danger.
Not that Rhoan had actually said that last one. But as the time to infiltrate Deshon Starr's crime cartel drew nearer, it was in my thoughts more and more.
"It's a stupid rule, and you know it," I said eventually. "Fighting Gautier doesn't prove anything."
"He is the best at what he does. Fighting him makes guardians ready for what they may face out there."
"Difference is, I don't want to become a full-time guardian."
"You have no choice now, Riley."
I knew that, but that didn't mean I still couldn't rail against the prospect, even if my protests were only empty words. Hell, if Jack came up to me today and offered me the chance to walk away from becoming a guardian, I wouldn't, because there was no way in hell I'd walk away from the chance of making Deshon Starr pay. Not only because of what he'd done to me, but what he'd done to Misha, and to Kade's partner, and all those countless men and women still locked in breeding cells somewhere.
Not to mention all the things given life in his labs - abominations nature would never have created, creatures born for two purposes only. To kill as ordered, and to die as ordered.
A chill ran across my skin. I'd only come across a few of those creatures, but I had a bad, bad feeling that before this month was out, I'd see a whole lot more than I ever wanted to.
I licked my lips, and tried to concentrate on Rhoan. If I had to get him down on the mat to get out of here, then I would. I wanted, needed, to grab a little bit more of a normal life before the crap set in again.
Because it was coming. I could feel it.
A shadow flickered across one of the windows lining the wall to the right of Rhoan. Given it was nearly six, it was probably just a guardian getting himself ready for the evening's hunt. This arena was on sublevel 5, right next to the guardian sleeping quarters. Which, amusingly, did contain coffins. Some vamps just loved living up to human expectations, even if they weren't actually necessary.
Not that any humans ever came down here. That would be like leading a lamb into the midst of a hungry den of lions. To say it would get ugly very quickly would be an understatement. Guardians might be paid to protect humans, but they sure as hell weren't above snacking on the occasional one, either.
The shadow slipped past another window, and this time, Rhoan's gaze flickered in that direction. Only briefly, but that half-second gave me an idea.
I twisted, spinning and lashing out with one bare foot. My heel skimmed his stomach, forcing him backward. His baton arced around, his blow barely avoiding my shin, then he followed the impetus of the movement so that he was spinning and kicking in one smooth motion. His heel whistled mere inches from my nose, and probably would have connected if I hadn't leaned back.
He nodded approvingly. "Now, that's a little more like it."
I grunted, shifting my stance and throwing the baton from one hand to the other. The slap of wood against flesh echoed in the silence surrounding us, and tension ran across his shoulders. I held his gaze, then caught the baton left-handed and started to hit out. Only to pull the blow up short and let my gaze go beyond him.
"Hi, Jack."
Rhoan turned around, and, in that moment, I dropped and kicked his legs out from underneath him. He hit the mat with a loud splat, his surprised expression dissolving quickly into a bark of laughter.
