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“Yes, but that isn’t an enemy. That’s Bethiah…and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like you being naked around her.” There’s a curious note in Kim’s voice that almost sounds like…irritation?
Is she jealous?
Hope blooms in my chest. It will not take long to win my Kim back at all. “If you are asking if I will cover my warrior so she is not overwhelmed with the magnitude of it, then I agree. This is wise.”
“Thank you,” Kim says.
“I do not want her falling in love with me,” I add boastfully.
My mate shoots me an irritated look over her shoulder that makes me laugh. Ah yes. There is my Kim. And she IS jealous.
53
NASSAKTH
Kim asks for her space that afternoon, and so I busy myself with my plants and with exercise. She spends her time in the bedroom, and I suspect she works on her story. I am curious what it is about, but Kim will tell me if she wishes for me to know. We eat dinner together, and while it is not entirely comfortable, it is not bad, either. After dinner, Kim teaches me a new card game called “I must go fish” with more complicated rules. I prefer Slapjack, but Kim does not want to play.
I think it is because if I put my paws on her, she will not be so resolved to keep this distance between us, and she wants to be strong.
I will let her be strong, for now. But I am crafty. I can wear down her defenses again, make her realize I am good for her. That she can trust me.
I do not protest when she sleeps alone. I sleep on the floor in my workout room, and when I wake up early the next morning and make breakfast, I am perversely pleased to see that my Kim looks as if she did not sleep well. “Tired?” I ask innocently.
“Not at all.” She spoils these words with a jaw-cracking yawn.
“You would sleep better if I was there,” I cajole, serving up a bowl of noodles.
She grumbles something under her breath and I grin.
We eat our meals, and when Kim turns to retreat back to the bedroom, I stop her. “Have you forgotten? It is time for our lessons.”
Kim makes a face. “Nassakth, I’m tired and sore—”
“All who begin are tired and sore. You will build muscle soon enough.” I gesture at the war room. “Come. We will practice your sword work.”
She groans. “I don’t want to.”
“I did not ask if you wanted to,” I tease. “I said we are going to.”
My mate stomps her feet adorably, like a child, but turns and heads for the war room. She makes even more protests when I insist that we practice naked, but I am resolute. This is how it is done for every youth, I explain, and I see no need to break tradition.
Plus, I like watching Kim’s rounded backside jiggle as she practices her swings. In this way, training is far more pleasant for the teacher than the trainee.
When my small mate is panting with exhaustion and her skin drenched with sweat, her arms trembling with every strike of her sword, I deem this enough for the day. “You have done well,” I tell her. “We will pick up again tomorrow.”
She wrinkles her nose and makes a face at me. “Are you sure you can’t just teach me to use a blaster or something?”
“I will. I will also teach you how to fight barehanded. I will teach you how to use a bow. And a shield. And a two-handed sword. But for now, we learn this.” I pat her back as she heads past me toward the showers. “You will thank me later.”
“I am pretty sure I won’t,” she calls back.
That evening, we play cards and I show Kim battle vids of some of the more famous arena fights so she can see their techniques. I deliberately avoid showing her my fights, because she is already mistrustful. I avoid lrulti gladiators, too, and settle upon a fierce match featuring a drakoni warrior. It is a rare race I have only fought once in the arena, but I remember the match fondly. I love watching Kim’s face as the match takes its twists and turns, and when the drakoni’s collar chimes and falls off his neck, I see the unholy glory on the male’s face a second before he shifts to his ferocious dragon form. Kim gasps in surprise, clutching at my arm, her gaze locked on the screen. “He shifted forms!”
“I know. Most owners keep their drakoni collared at all times because once they shift, they are near-invulnerable.” I grunt as the dragon lands upon his opponent and tears him to pieces, and Kim claps a hand over her mouth.
“Oh my god.”
The vid should end, but instead, the dragon takes to the stands, breathing fire and using his claws against the watching audience. This is my favorite part, because how many times did I have rotten food pelted on me from a surly audience? How many times did they call rude things in my direction when a fight took a bad turn? Those that pay to watch such fights up close are there simply for the blood spray and get everything they deserve.
