To Love a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,9
I know what it’s like to not have anyone’s help. Not that I need it,” he says with a wink.
He starts unbuckling his weapons belt from his slim waist and tosses it near the tree line. His sword clatters to the ground when the leather belt lands in the brush.
I nod at his words, trying to dissolve the hurt that floats in my chest. My face is neutral and my breathing is steady once again.
“All my kindness aside,” he says with a smirk, “how about you take off that morbid sword and face me like a man?” I glare at him out of the corner of my eye but it doesn’t fade his arrogant smile.
I unbuckle my belt that hangs loosely at my small waist. The worn leather weights my palm. I feel lighter and more vulnerable without the sword and all that it represents. Like a piece of my vital shelter has been stripped away from me in a rainstorm and I’m left defenseless to the world.
Declan’s eyes light up with pure happiness as the crystal sword is no longer brushing my hip and his brilliant white teeth glisten as a broad smile spreads across his face. I gently place the weapon next to his sword and return to face him.
He pushes his shaggy blonde hair from his face, all seriousness returning to him. “How well can you fight?” he asks, measuring me up and down with a quick look.
Luca and I have covered hand to hand combat briefly but she’s better with knives and other weapons, especially daggers. Our training is the reason I’ve started carrying a dagger, not that I’m the best with it. I think through the few times I have fought hand to hand with Luca and it didn’t go well for me, but I refuse to tell Declan this.
“I’m experienced,” I say, raising my chin. A vague reply, one my mother would be proud of.
Declan closes his eyes and slowly blinks at me. “Our training will only be successful and, quite honestly, will move a lot faster if you’re just straightforward with me, Fallon,” he says my name in a breath and the familiarity of it sends a chill tracing down my spine. I blink the memory back and give a short nod.
“I’m not very good,” I tell him with my head held high, forcing my unsureness from my features.
He nods in understanding and his eyes dance across the dusty ground in thought.
“There’s no shame in that,” he tells me, facing me. “Let’s start with basic self-defense. Raske wanted you trained by a male because males think differently. It’s not sexist, it’s a fact. Physically we’re built different, we use our bulk to our advantage. The majority of combat soldiers are men. Even if you are a female it’s important and beneficial to know how males – the enemy – think.” He’s naming off facts in a lecture like manner and I’m suddenly aware that the hybrid who shamelessly flirts with me is not the same scholarly like warrior that stands before me now.
“Today I’m going to have you attack me and I will slowly show you how to deflect the moves.”
“What if I hurt you?” I ask without much thought.
A smile fills his features and he comes closer to me, leaving less than a foot of space between us. I stare up at him through dark lashes. The burning colors of the sky cast around him like an archangel. “I promise you, I won’t break, love,” he whispers against my hair.
Just when I thought my flirtatious friend had been replaced by a true Wandering Warrior, his breath fans over my face with a voice filled with smooth gravel.
“Similar to the defensive stance you hold with a sword, you will want to keep your feet braced apart, they should be a little farther out than your hips.” I follow his instruction as he speaks and he watches me for error. This is similar to what Luca has said in our past training. “Your stance starts at your feet and your feet are the most significant factor in fighting.” I glance up from my focus on my oh-so-important feet.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Another annoying smile tilts his lips and it occurs to me he might actually be enjoying bossing me around. He may actually like teaching someone his craft.
“Your feet hold your balance. Though your fists hold power, little good they will do if you’re fumbling to the ground after every blow,” he says, pushing my