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“I’m not exactly dressed for combat, Logan. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
“Bullshit.” He emptied his pockets of his various knives and throwing stars and tossed them to the corner of the mat. “Every Aegi I’ve ever known could slaughter an Oni while wearing an evening gown or in the nude. You require every member to be battle-trained to their highest ability, and you mandate refresher courses to maintain proficiency. The Aegis wants its people to be able to handle themselves in any situation, same as DART. The Aegis isn’t a job. It’s a lifestyle.” He’d wanted to say that it was a cult, but maybe he shouldn’t antagonize them too much on the very first day. “Are exceptions made for certain jobs like yours? Or are you not considered a Guardian?”
Her narrow nose came up so she could stare down it at him. “Every Aegi is considered a Guardian. I have the tattoo, and I carry a stang like everyone else. And believe it or not, I can hold my own with a variety of weapons.”
He couldn’t decide if he believed her or not. Time to find out.
Without warning, he spun, kicked, and took her to the mat with a sweep to the back of her legs.
“Disappointing,” he said as he looked down at her. “I expected better of an Aegi. If I had been an enemy, you’d be dead.”
Fire sparked in her cool espresso gaze. Glaring, she kicked off her heels and shoved to her feet in an angry surge. “You cheated,” she snapped. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Most people don’t expect demons to pop out of manholes, but it happens.”
“Are you saying I should be on guard here?” She made a wide, encompassing gesture around the room. “In DART headquarters, which should be the safest place on the planet outside of an Aegis building?”
“I’m saying you should always expect—”
And thenhewas on his back, and that magnificent woman who smelled like flowers floating on the ocean was straddling his chest, the silver end of the stang at his throat.
It was hot. As. Fuck.
Damn, he might have just found his soulmate.
Eva didn’t usually allow herself to feel smug. But as she squeezed her thighs into Logan’s ribs and looked down into his surprised eyes, she reveled in the smugness.
Reveled.
He’d needed to be taken down a peg. By her estimation, she’d taken him down several.
“When did you get your stang from your tote bag?”
She basked in more self-satisfaction. She’d slipped the weapon from the bag before putting it down, and while he disarmed, she’d slid the blade into the sheath sewn into the fabric at the hip of her skirt.
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not,” he said, his gaze raking her body, assessing it, making her sweat. That wasn’t the look of someone who’d just gotten their ass handed to them. That was the look of a man with a woman straddling him…on a mattress. In a bedroom.
Not on a mat. In a gymnasium.
“Now,” he continued, his voice like warm caramel, “what is your next move?”
She deftly twirled the stang between her fingers and pressed the gold blade deeper into his skin, careful not to break it. Would be a shame to mar that perfectly tan canvas made for the kiss of a woman’s lips.
“If you were a demon, I’d slit your throat.”
“Would you?” Suddenly, his hand clamped around her wrist and wrenched the blade away from his neck. Pain shot up her arm as he flipped her and sent the stang clattering across the mat. In a heartbeat, she was flat on her back, and he was holding her down with the strength of his powerful legs and his considerable weight.
“Oh, come on,” she snapped up at him, humiliated by his effortless takedown. “If you were an enemy, you’d be dead, and you wouldn’t have had the chance to pin me like this.”
His face was inches from hers, heat rolling off him in waves that scorched her. If she lifted her head just a little, their lips would touch. She had a feeling he was agreatkisser.
And she really, really shouldn’t be having thoughts like this.
“Maybe.” He rolled off her and sat on the mat, one arm casually laid across his bent knee. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Meanwhile, she was panting like she’d run a marathon. “But I’ll admit, that move was impressive.”
Of course, it was. She had a background in gymnastics and was freakishly flexible. Sitting up, she tugged her clothing back into place. “Thank y—”
