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Sailor and Otto are watching the guys rotate, practicing moves in wolf form, when I arrive.
Otto smiles warmly. “We were wondering where you went off to. Sailor is ready for you.”
“I’m ready too.” I hold the flower out to Sailor with a smirk. “Maybe this will help you cheer up, sunshine.”
“What the fuck is this?” he snarls even as he takes the flower from me.
“Sailor,” Otto scolds. “Learn to take a bit of ribbing.” He grins and winks at me, clearly amused by the little gift. I guess I’m not the only one who’s noticed that Sailor is unreasonably surly.
Sailor doesn’t dare talk back to Otto.
“Alright, get on with it. I came back to see what you can really do, Miss Cassidy. Hand-to-hand first, and then wolves.” Otto nods at me like I’m supposed to understand what he’s saying. He saw me earlier with Mason—I can’t imagine he needs to see us run through those paces again.
“You and me,” Sailor clarifies. He drops the flower I gave him, not even sparing me the courtesy of pretending to treat the gift nicely. It makes me feel silly for teasing him as if we’re anything to each other, much less any kind of friends.
Dread pools low in my stomach as I follow Sailor to the center of the training circle. The guys linger at the side, and I look over at them, offering a fake smile of reassurance. Sailor’s a hell of a fighter—I saw that easily enough earlier in the day, and while I’m confident enough in my ability to keep up, I’m not confident that I could actually ever hope to best someone of his caliber.
If my guys realize how much I don’t really want to do this, they’ll step in, and I don’t want that. Needing one of them to save me would only make me look weak and incapable.
I don’t want to seem weak in front of Sailor—or anyone.
“Hands up,” Sailor says, turning to face me with his own hands outstretched.
With no other real choice, I reluctantly raise my hands and stand stiffly as he bounces on his toes.
“What are you doing?” he huffs.
“Waiting to start.” What does he think I’m doing?
Sailor drops his hands and stands still in front of me. “Hit me,” he demands.
“What?” I frown at him.
“Hit me,” he repeats. He pats his bare chest and then spreads his arms out to give me free access. “Get one good hit in so you get your head in this. I’m not sparring with a statue.”
Ugh.Asshole,my wolf thinks, but there’s no real bite behind it.
“Hit me, Quinn!”
I ball my fist and punch him right in the gut, my wolf flaring with annoyance and adding more strength than necessary behind the hit. Sailor grunts and bends slightly at the waist. I can hear the guys chuckle on the sidelines as I nervously step back.
Clearly, Sailor wasn’t expecting a real hit.
I’m tempted to apologize until Sailor straightens and shocks me to my core. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he barks out a big laugh. The sight of a near-smile on his face is beyond incredible, and I stand stunned, staring at his beauty for a second too long.
“Okay. You proved you can hit, Cupid. Now show me what else you’ve got.” His mouth turns up at one side as he resets himself with hands up. I have to shake off the distraction of seeing him almost smiling. It’s completely unexpected, but he’shandsomewith that hint of a smile. It makes me want to do anything I can to make him smile properly.
He probably doesn’t know how, I remind myself.
This time, I raise my arms and keep my body poised to fight. Sailor doesn’t go easy on me as we break into our sparring. He’s careful not to actually hurt me seriously, but he doesn’t treat me like I’m made of glass either.
Everything around us might as well disappear because as we go at each other, I’m not focused on anything but him. His dark eyes follow my every move, and I take great pleasure in figuring out how to catch him off guard.
Sailor was right about my mind being my strength. I’m not as strong or as fast as him, but I do manage to block some of his movements by anticipating his next move.
The same thing that kept us running in stride helps me to force him to work harder to get the best of me. He even breaks a sweat after several failed attempts to sweep my legs out from under me.
“Not bad, Cupid. Hand-to-hand, you’re better than your fan club over there,” Sailor says, circling me.
