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I frown, not really able to explain it. “It’s not anything in particular. I’m just angry. Frustrated. Mad. I want to beat the shit out of something, everything. I just want all of my guys here together, with me. That’s selfish as fuck, I know, but…”
“It’s not selfish, Raven. I want them here too. And if I was there instead of by your side…” His eyes stare deep into my soul. “I would be going insane. There would be no doubt about it.” Tingles zip through my blood, but I quickly pout when he takes another step back. “I know I’m not the calm one, or the deep, understanding one, and I’m not funny at all. I can’t offer you anything the others can, but there is something I can do.”
I want to tell him I don’t want or need any of those things from him, but I know they’re wasted words on him. “What can you do?” I ask, intrigued.
“Let you beat the shit out of me.”
I laugh, but the pointed stare I get tells me he’s deadly serious. “No.” I shake my head, but he captures my chin, holding me in place.
“Why? I can handle it.”
I giggle this time. “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s me. Your muscles have fucking muscles. That will hurt like hell.”
He smirks, too pleased with himself. Fucker.
“Come on, Raven. Show me a good time. Don’t think I didn’t notice the fighting pits when you took us to Shadowmoor. You were familiar with them, even if you hadn’t stepped foot in one. Show me what you’re made of.”
He’s goading me and it’s working.
Worst of all, he knows it.
He doesn’t bother waiting for my agreement. He knows he already has it.
Turning to face him, I tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear. “Maybe we should be focusing our efforts on trying to locate the emerald gate,” I murmur, my gut twisting with guilt. I can’t be working on my own issues when the guys are out there somewhere.
Brax frowns. “Our best bet of connecting with them is in my sleep, Shadow. We have no fucking clue where the emerald gate could be now. Hopefully, tonight, I’ll get closer to them, but for now, we’re doing this because if the guys find out I haven’t tended to your needs, it will be me in the Realm of Shadows, and not in the way they are. The dead way.”
I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “I would bring you back.”
“Not if they didn’t let you,” he retorts, cocking a brow at me in challenge.
Definitely dramatic.
Using magic, I change out of my uniform into a loose tee and shorts, sneakers and fresh socks on my feet. Brax eyes me for a moment, and I expect him to do the same, but instead, he makes a show of loosening his tie. The material flutters to the grass, quickly followed by his blazer, before he starts to unbutton his shirt.
My tongue peeks out, failing to moisten my drying lips as his shirt is discarded without care. Once he kicks his shoes and socks off, he turns to face me head-on; knees shoulder-width apart and slightly bent.
Fuck.
This man is going to fight me in just his academy pants.
How am I supposed to focus when his muscles flex before my very eyes? I get the overwhelming desire to step forward and bite his pebbled nipple, but I refrain, refusing to give in to his teasing.
“Let’s go, Shadow.” He cracks his neck from side to side, lifting his arms to protect his chest.
Relaxing my shoulders back, I tighten my core and soften my knees, taking up my familiar fighting stance. He was right. I never stood in the Shadowmoor fighting pits, but that didn’t stop me from training. At least that way, I was always able to protect myself. It was a necessity.
My curled knuckles catch my attention and I note that it’s been a long time since they were busted and bruised, just like they were when I first arrived here. It feels like a lifetime ago, but the familiar stance brings everything back to me.
Inching closer to Brax, I keep my arms high, eyeing him from head to toe, trying to assess where he might have an opening, but it doesn’t come as a surprise when I don’t see one. I’m just going to have to make a move and let the rest happen. Dancing around him, he spins to follow me and I tap out with my left arm first, testing my reach and his defense. My fist meets his bicep with the briefest tap before I retract.
A grin touches the corner of his lips and I can see the snarky comment on the tip of his tongue that’s about to come. Before he gets a chance to utter a single word, I repeat the motion, only this time, I follow it up with a firmer hit from my right hand.
I still meet his arm with both touches, but I don’t miss his eyes widening with the firmer hit from the second touch.
“Am I playing around with a punching bag, or are you actually going to move?” I ask, bouncing from foot to foot, very aware I’m the one doing the goading now.
“I just wanted to see what you may have to offer. Not much, it seems.” He shrugs, quickly gaining the upper hand again.
