Friday Night Bites - By Chloe Neill Page 0,81

stepped before me, pulled a hand across his jaw, then put his hands on the arms of the chair. He leaned forward. His torso arched over mine, I hunched back into the chair.

"She is my top priority."

I didn't need to ask who "she" was. Obviously, Mal had called Catcher.

"She is unhappy." He paused, pale green eyes tracking back and forth across my face.

"She's having a difficult time. And I get that you're having a difficult time, Merit. Jesus knows, we all get it. You had problems adjusting to the transition from human to vampire, and now you appear to have trouble remembering your humanity."

He leaned incrementally forward. My heart began to thud, warmth flowing through my body as anxiety and adrenaline pulled the vampire from slumber, pushed her closer to the surface.

Not now, I begged her. Not now. He'd see, he'd know, and he'd handle me. Nothing good could come from that. For a split second, I thought he knew, his brow knitting as he leaned over me. I closed my eyes, counted backward, tried to push her down even as I felt him above me, the bulk of his body perched over my chair, the faint sizzle of latent magic electrifying the air.

Slowly, one drop at a time, I felt her recede.

"She's having trouble adjusting, Merit, just like you did. And she was there for you. It's time for you to be there for her. Cut her a little slack. I know she said some... regrettable things. And believe me, she knows it."

I opened my eyes, kept my gaze on his T-shirt and nodded, a little.

With a creak of plastic, he straightened, took a step backward, and looked down at me, arms crossed. This time his expression bore a hint of sympathy. His voice was softer, too. "I know you're trying to help Ethan. Trying to get him access, trying to do your job. I get that. And maybe that's the problem here, maybe it isn't. Frankly, that's your business, not mine. But before you alienate everyone who cares about you, Mallory or Morgan or whoever, remember who you were before this happened, before you were changed. Try to find some balance. Try to find a place in your life for the things that mattered before he changed you." He started to turn away, but apparently thought better of it. "I know you have limited time today, but you better be willing to bust your ass. If you're going to stand Sentinel, then you will damn well be prepared for it."

I shook my head, irritated that he'd assumed it was a lack of effort, of trying, that kept me from being the fighter he wanted when, in fact, it was the opposite. "You don't get it,"

I told him.

His eyebrows lifted, surprise obvious on his face. "Then enlighten me."

I looked at him, and for a long, quiet moment I nearly did tell him. I nearly trusted him, trusted myself, enough to ask him about it, to tell him that I was broken - that my vampire was broken. Separate, somehow. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'd tried to broach the subject once; he'd shaken off my concern. So I shook my head, lowered it.

"I don't know what you know," he said, "or what you've seen, or what you think you've done. But I advise you to find someone you can trust, and spill those beans. Capiche?"

Silently, I nodded.

"Then let's get to work."

We did. He wouldn't allow me to spar, given what he'd deemed my subpar effort two days ago. It was a punishment in his eyes, but a moral victory for me, allowing me to put my effort into movement and speed rather than holding back the predatory instinct that threatened to overwhelm me. And besides - since we hadn't been sparring, and thus didn't risk damaging the blades, he let me practice with my katana.

We worked through the first seven Katas for nearly an hour. While the movements of each Kata lasted only a few seconds, Catcher made me repeat the steps - over and over and over again - until he was satisfied with my performance. Until the moves became rote, until my movements were mechanically precise, until I could move so quickly through them that the gestures were blurred by speed. That fast, the Katas lost some of their tradition, but they made up for it in dance. Unfortunately, as Catcher pointed out, if I needed to use a sword in a fight, it

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