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“Right.” I stared at where said weapons had disappeared into his boots. “I’m just going to point out that I am not okay with how close you let that knife get to my throat.”
“I never would have let it hurt you.”
I couldn’t even be mad because I believed him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me even when we were fighting with deadly weapons. It was sort of scary how much I trusted him.
“So what’s the second rule?” I asked.
“Ideally you don’t do anything reckless, but if you do, commit to it one hundred percent. Once you jump into a fight, it’s life or death.” He closed the distance between us in a single stride and settled his hands on my hips. “Which is your dominant hand?”
“My right.”
“Okay, spread your feet apart and turn like this.” He moved my body around until I was in a stance he was happy with. “Keep your weapon close to your body. It’s not a shield, and it isn’t going to magically protect you if you hold it out in front of you.”
For the next twenty minutes, we worked on striking an imaginary opponent.
“You have to use your whole body when you strike, not just your arms.” Nathaniel’s hand closed over my wrist while his other arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his chest. “Don’t stick your arm out—bring your whole weight with it.”
By the time we finished, my tank top was damp with sweat and my hair was plastered to the back of my neck. I’d also managed an attack that didn’t prompt Nathaniel to start manhandling me.
His eyes swept up and down my body. “Go take a shower, and I’ll put the room back together. Tomorrow we’re getting a gym membership.”
“Excuse me? Are you telling me I’m out of shape?” I widened my eyes in mock outrage.
He dropped his head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I’m telling you you don’t have space for a punching bag or the rest of the equipment we need access to in your living room.”
By the time I came out of the shower, all evidence of our afternoon was gone. The television and furniture had been replaced, and Nathaniel was stretched out on the couch with his sketchbook on his lap, taking up the entire couch with his insanely long legs.
He didn’t look up as I came into the room, all his concentration on his project.
I tapped his feet, and he pulled his knees up to make room for me without comment. As soon as I sat down, he stretched back out, propping his feet in my lap.
“What are you working on?” I didn’t expect an answer, but he was already treating me like I was part of the furniture, so I didn’t exactly have anything to lose.
“See for yourself.” His sketchbook joined his feet on my lap.
I was so stunned that for a second I just stared. A drawing of myself stared back at me. The image was just from the shoulders up with no background, nothing to distract from the details of my face. I didn’t think there was even a freckle out of place. And I hada lotof freckles.
I flipped the page and found a picture of two guys standing back-to-back and facing down a ring of demons. The demons looked transparent, so I could see hints of the floor and walls through them. The younger-looking guy with long hair that hung past his shoulders was brandishing twin axes that burned with the same fire as Nathaniel’s knives. The other guy had darker hair that hung in his eyes, and he wore a lazy smile. In his hands was what looked like a club, spikes sticking out of it and everything. Neither of them had wings, but I had no doubt that they were angels.
I glanced at Nathaniel, but he wasn’t watching me. His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back against the arm of the couch.
Afraid he was going to take the sketchbook back, I flipped to the next drawing without saying a word.
This one was a picture of a young woman, maybe my age, maybe younger. She was flawlessly beautiful with light hair that streamed down to her hips and a smile that lit up her whole face. Elegant wings spread from her back. She was holding her hands up with her fingers and thumbs curled into the shape of a heart in front of her chest. It was such a human gesture, it seemed at odds with her wings.
There was something familiar about the woman, though to the best of my knowledge I didn’t know many angels and I couldn’t figure out where I could have seen her.
“These are amazing,” I said, flipping through more drawings. “You have a gift.”
“They’re just sketches. Something to do with my free time.”
I didn’t believe that. He was good, the kind of good that came from intensive practice. “Thank you for sharing them with me.”
He sat up, swinging his legs off my lap. “You don’t mind that I was drawing you?”
“No. That wouldn’t be very fair of me since you don’t have many model options these days.”
“Hey.” His voice went hard, nearly angry sounding. He caught my chin between his thumb and finger, forcing me to look at him. “I have drawn exactly two women in my entire life. Don’t you dare go thinking I drew you by default.”
