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I kicked off the wall, aiming a blow at his head, but Sloan easily dodged my assault. His arm swung out and the long stick struck my back, throwing me down onto the padded floor. A loud slap rang out and heat cut a harsh line across my back.
Every single one of his hits hurt like a bitch.
“You’re moving too slow. With an elder vampire or Shifter this might pass, but up against a creature with magic on its side, you’d be dead.” Sweat gleamed on his forehead as the other Hunter stabbed his stick down onto the floor. Sighing, Sloan tossed back his hair, his steel gaze missing the signature gentleness I was used to seeing on the Brit. “You need to be clever and fast, and right now you’re neither.”
Guess even Sloan could be an asshole.
“Rude. I’m really trying here,” I complained, not the least bit eager to get off the ground.
Sloan sighed again. “Not hard enough.”
“You’re a real hard-ass when it comes to this stuff, huh?” I mumbled, on my hands and knees. “Don’t you feel even a little bit bad about hitting a girl?”
“You’re not a girl,” Sloan said softly, his feet moving out of view as I hung my head and tried to get my bearings. “You’re a Hunter.”
Rolling away just in time, I avoided another downward swing of the other Hunter’s stick and twisted around to kick out his knee. I heard the harsh crack before Sloan collapsed to the floor. It was the first time I’d hit him in nearly thirty minutes, but it was enough to get Sloan onto his back. Without a second’s pause, I was already knelt over him, my black dagger laid across his throat, just under his jaw, with his blazing ice-blue eyes beaming up at me.
“Good,” he whispered, the pain noticeable in his voice.
I hesitated and touched the leg I struck. “You’re hurt.”
“Not anymore,” he retorted, moving his leg a little to prove it. “You need to get rid of that.”
“Rid of what?”
“Your empathy in a fight,” he clarified, eyes narrowing. “Anyone could be your enemy, V. Anyone.” Sloan reached out and gently took hold of my hip, causing me to gasp sharply. “The only person you can ever trust is yourself. No one is worth dying for.”
I glared at him, not eager for another lecture. “You sound like Phil.”
“He knows better than anyone what betrayal looks like, so that makes sense.” Sloan’s jaw clenched, and he moved his neck slightly before my blade could cut into his skin.
I pulled it away, and the other Hunter chuckled lightly. His chest tautened underneath me, the definition visible after he’d removed his tactical vest. Closing his eyes for a second, the Brit sucked in a short breath. When his expressive blue eyes opened again, they glittered like precious gems caught in sunlight. Reaching up, the Hunter laid his palm warmly against my cheek and his other tightened around my hip, yanking me forward.
Pleasure washed through my thighs, alarming me the most. I wasn’t prepared for things to take a sexual turn, and I didn’t know how to deal. Was I really a true-to-life nymphomaniac? It felt wrong to feel anything remotely erotic with someone who wasn’t Phillip, and betrayal hit my stomach like a thousand pounds of rock. It took a second to figure out what was happening and why.
Sloan’s suggestive grip on my hip and tensing muscles between my thighs were as sensual as it got. He could’ve forced me off of him or said something, anything, to encourage distance, but he didn’t. The incubus only stared up at me, perfectly aware of his effect on me.
What is happening right now?!
I wasn’t naïve to male attention, but older dudes were a new thing to me. More than that, Sloan didn’t strike me as the hypersexual sort, and it didn’t occur to me we might run into this problem while training.
Fighting was a physical sport, and it was easy to sexualize it if done with the right person. But I didn’t believe in a hundred years I’d find myself here, with Sloan, battling an urge I’d only suffered with two other men. And definitely not after having a fight where the man in question was thrown out in a ditch effort to get a rise out of my partner.
What I’d said to Phillip that morning was a moment of weakness meant to punish him. It wasn’t said because I actually believed Sloan and I could be a thing. If anything, Sloan struck me as someone who never mixed business with pleasure. He was the safe choice. Someone who didn’t cross boundaries or make things messy. The type of guy who made good decisions and didn’t use his other parts as an excuse to act like a sex-starved douche-bag. Then again, I’d only just met the dude.
What if I made a bad judgment call? I’d been wrong before.
I thought Nigel was sweet and well-meaning, then he’d upended everything by lashing out and saying things that still hurt to think about. I’d trusted the Organization, and it turned out to be the entire reason I didn’t have parents. The Organization was also the reason I was some freak of nature and a joining of god-knows how many things. I’d trusted my Grams. I was convinced she’d told me everything, and that I’d been prepared for anyone who came after me. But now, it was clear she hadn’t said enough. She’d chosen to keep things from me, and then she left.
So maybe Sloan was right; I could only trust myself these days.
I opened my mouth, but Sloan’s thumb swept across my cheek and pressed against my lips. “I see what Phillip meant when he said you were talented for how little you’ve trained. You’re already formidable, and we haven’t even gotten started.”
Phillip’s name in this situation was pure torture.
“But you—you said I wasn’t fast enough.”
Smirking, Sloan chuckled to himself. “Forgive me. I said those things so you would shed your misgivings and really come at me.”
