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Cian shrugged. “It’s a complicated life you’ve chosen for yourself.”
“And I intend to live it. I’ll let you get dressed.”
A complicated life, Cian thought again when he was alone. And it stunned and annoyed him that he could envy it.
Chapter 21
Glenna figured most brides were a little stressed and very busy on their weddings days. But most brides didn’t have to fit in sword practice and spells between their facials and pedicures.
At least the pace cut down on the time for the nerves she’d had no idea she’d have. She couldn’t squeeze in much of an anxiety attack when she was worried about flower arrangements, romantic lighting and the proper form for beheading a vampire.
“Try this.” Blair started to toss the weapon, then obviously changed her mind when Glenna’s mouth dropped open. She walked it over. “Battle-ax. More heft than a sword, which would work better for you, I think. You got pretty decent upper body strength, but you’d cut through easier with this than a sword. You need to get used to its weight and its balance. Here.”
She walked back, picked up her own sword. “Block me with it.”
“I’m not used to it. I could miss, hurt you.”
“Believe me, you won’t hurt me. Block!” She thrust out, and more from instinct than obedience, Glenna clanged the ax to the sword.
“Now see, I’d just stab you cheerfully in the back while you’re fumbling to turn.”
“It’s top heavy,” Glenna complained.
“It’s not. Spread out your grip more for now. Okay, stay forward after the first strike. Come down on the sword, back up at me. Slow. One,” she said and thrust. “Two. Again, keep it coming. You want to counter my moves, sure, but what you want is to throw me off balance, to make me counter yours, force me to follow your moves. Think of it as a dance routine where you not only want to lead, but you also really want to kill your partner.”
Blair held up a hand, stepped back. “Let me show you. Hey, Larkin. Come be the practice dummy.” She tossed him her sword, hilt up, then took the battle-ax. “Take it slow,” she told him. “This is a demo.”
She nodded. “Attack.”
As he moved on her, she called out the steps. “Strike, strike, turn. Thrust up, across, strike. He’s good, see?” she said, still calling out to Glenna. “So he’s pushing at me while I push at him. So you ad lib as necessary. Turn, kick, strike, strike, pivot. Slice!”
She flipped the dagger strapped to her wrist and swiped it an inch from Larkin’s belly. “When his guts are spilling out, you—”
And dodged back from the swipe of what looked like a very large bear claw.
“Wow.” She rested the head of her ax on the floor, leaned on the handle. Only his arm had changed shape. “You can do that? Just pieces of you?”
“If I like.”
“I bet the girls back home can’t get enough of you.”
It took him a moment—she’d already turned to go back to Glenna—then he burst into delighted laughter. “Sure that’s the truth. But not due to what you’re meaning. I prefer my own shape for that kind of sport.”
“Bet. Square off with Larkin. I’m going to work with Shorty for a while.”
“Don’t call me that,” Moira snapped.
“Lighten up. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Moira opened her mouth, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“King called her that,” Glenna said quietly.
“Oh. Got it. Moira. Resistance training. We’re going to pump you up.”
“I’m sorry I spoke to you that way.”
“Look. We’re going to irritate each other a lot before this is done. I don’t bruise easily—literally or figuratively. You’re going to have to toughen up yourself. Five-pound free weights. You’re going to be cut by the time I’m done with you.”
