Chapter 8
I
gave the bag a nice, hard kick. Followed through with a right hook, then a left. Kick, jab, swing. Elbow up, I rammed the heavy sandbag where my opponent’s face would be. It swung back and forth on its chain, and I lunged out of the way, leapt, and rammed my heel at stomach level. Sweat dripped down my neck, trickled under the white Under Armour T-shirt and soaked into the waistband of my yoga pants. I’d rather fight a living, breathing opponent, one who could actually hit back. But this early, I doubted I’d find anyone willing to j nm">ll’d ratoin me.
Six in the morning, and I’d already been at it for two hours. It’s not like I could sleep. In fact, I doubted I’d ever sleep again.
Fantastic.
I’d done a total one-eighty, going from sleeping twenty hours a day to four. Somehow, though, beyond the pain of my broken heart, I felt a strange sense of calm. Not because Ty had found someone else to love—I’d never get over that—but rather, because I had answers. Before Tyler had left me, he’d said nothing was worse than the wondering. The
not
knowing. And he was right. At least I had an explanation for his silence. At least now I knew why he hadn’t called me when he’d come home. I rubbed at my sternum, trying to banish the hollow pain in my chest that would probably never leave me, before grabbing a towel and mopping the sweat off my face and neck. I thought I heard the gym doors swing open, but the sound was so faint, I almost hadn’t noticed. I closed my eyes, my hand easing to my side to retrieve the dagger I kept strapped to my thigh. Still and barely breathing, I let my unique senses do the work, zoning in on the sound and signature of the stealth-quiet form approaching, inaudible to anyone but me, and even I had to strain my ears and reach out with invisible feelers to both hear and feel the presence.
When the hairs stood up on my arms and at the back of my neck, I knew it was time. Eyes open, I whirled around, grabbing my assailant by the collar—or rather, shirt—and pressing the dagger to his . . . er . . . chest instead of his throat.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Asher said, too soft and calm for his size. I hadn’t noticed the first time I’d met him how big he really was. I guess the haunted look in his light amber eyes had distracted me from everything else. “I heard someone working out, thought I’d see what was up.”
Interesting
. “I didn’t think anyone would be awake this early.”
Asher shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t sleep much.”
“Me either.” Well, not anymore.
Asher looked down at the dagger I was still holding to his chest. “I can leave—if you want to be alone.”
I sheathed the dagger, seeing my salvation in the tall Shaede, probably strong enough to break me in half. He wasn’t as big as Liam, but pretty damn close. How did I not notice it before?
I’d decided after Xander left me alone last night, that the only way to rid the image of Ty and that other woman from my mind would be to beat myself into exhaustion. Besides, I owed it to Raif to be in my best fighting form. I couldn’t protect dick moping around feeling sorry for myself. And who better to give me a run for my money than Asher? I swept my hand in front of me, an invitation.
“Mind if I stretch, first?”
Whatever floats your boat, buddy
. I watched as he lifted an arm over his head, elbow to sky and palm to his back.
“So,” he said, switching arms. “Why didn’t you pick me for your group of good little soldiers? Afraid I might be too rough for Raif’s star pupils?”
The smirk on Asher’s face didn’t hide the hard glint of his eyes. I’d known tough guys like him. Hell, I was just like him. Acting like he didn’t give a shit was just a smoke screen to keep people at a distance. “Are you saying you want babysitting duty?”
“Why not,” Asher said, moving on to stretch his hamstrings. “I haven’t seen much action lately.”
Really? Action? Following Anya around sounded boring as hell to me. “I’m not sure what your idea of action is, Asher, but I doubt any of us are going to see much action tailing after Anya for the next couple of months.” Or longer.
Shit
.
“Are you kidding?” He rotated his ankles, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “The last time she went out alone, someone shot the shit out of her ride. Sniper rifle. Fifty cal.”
I guess Xander’s definition of “threat” and mine were a little different. I’d been thinking harassing phone calls, nasty letters in the mail—my stomach clenched involuntarily—a mysterious postcard or two . . . not exactly execution-style shootings. And a fifty-caliber bullet? The monster rifle capable of shooting that kind of ammo was more of a sniper cannon. Bullets that size would rip through a tree trunk from half a mile away. Someone meant business.
“That’s not the best part, though.” There was a best part? Asher was bouncing on the balls of his feet, swinging his arms back and forth. “Whoever shot at her left a wicked calling card. The bullets were engraved with some sort of symbol. Nice touch, if you ask me.”
He sounded way too adolescent-boy-excited for his tight, muscular build and feral gaze. I couldn’t help but crack a grin, and I wondered if my face would crack as well. “What did it look like? Could you draw the symbol for me?”
“I can do one better. I can show you the bullets.”
Good. Better than good, actually. Whatever this symbol was, it could be the first step in finding out who’d threatened Anya. “Later. In the meantime, you ready for a workout?”
Asher stretched his neck from side to side and cracked his knuckles. “Ready.”
I didn’t waste any time showing off. I figured the best way to assert myself as the new alpha in town was to prove right from the get-go that I was more than able to kick some serious ass. Melding with the light, I left my corporeal form, passing back to my solid body right behind Asher. A swift kick to the middle of his back sent him flying face-first to the mat.
“You’ve got to be quicker than that,” I said.
Before I could blink, Asher turned over and kicked himself up to a standing position. The kid was way faster than I thought. He’d been holding back during Raif’s exhibition matches, and I had a strange feeling he was holding back, even now. Food for thought.
“That was awesome,” he said, adopting a defensive stance. “I heard you could do that, but seeing it firsthand is even better.”
Not many Shaedes in Xander’s household had seen me merge with the light, though all of them—and most of Seattle’s supernatural population—had heard about it. I was used to being a freak show, but the novelty didn’t seem to slow Asher down. He didn’t stand around and wait for an attack. His defensive posture turned to offense in a single breath. He charged with steps as light as any assassin worth her salt and looked to my right shoulder. I spun left to avoid impact, but the glance had been nothing but a feint. Lunging left, he caught me just below the ribs with an elbow and I went down—hard.
I
ssere causo
wanted to stay right there on the mat. I forced myself up, fought through the crippling ghost of pain stabbing through my chest. It wasn’t
real
. Not truly physical. A broken heart couldn’t kill me. Asher didn’t give me time to recover. He spun, kicked his leg out, aiming for my head. I blocked with a forearm, before dissolving into nothing, reappearing at his left side. He favored his right side. Not good. He’d have to learn to use all of his body when he fought, or his opponents would capitalize on his weakness. I went for his knee. He needed to learn his lesson from me before someone else taught him the hard way. I rammed my heel where the joints met, careful not to exert enough pressure to break his kneecap. Asher buckled, and I followed up with a sharp jab to the lower left quadrant of his back. The kid didn’t even whimper.
In fact, it seemed to only fuel his determination.
I have to admit, since I didn’t have much in the way of formal training, Asher had me beat in the style department. Raif had primarily trained me in swordplay, though he’d thrown in some martial arts and hand-to-hand combat along the way. My own style was more like a sampling of several martial arts styles combined with a heavy dose of street brawl. Asher, on the other hand, possessed an in-depth knowledge of Tae Kwon Do and Kung Fu, and every movement of his body favored his expertise. Flowed like river water.
His confidence impressed me, and his speed amazed me. Asher’s focus became unbreakable as he settled into a rhythm, his arms swirling above his head and in front of him, fists jabbing in quick succession. He alternated between knee kicks and straight-legged assaults that had me leaving my corporeal form time and again just to avoid impact. Fast. Lightning in a bottle. My first impressions are never wrong; Asher was definitely dangerous.
My breath came heavy, sweat beading on my forehead and rolling down my back. Every contact made was a pain I welcomed because it made me forget for a moment about the hollow ache in my chest. Shaking off the sorrow, I forced the crippling emotion down into the deepest part of me and stepped up my game. I didn’t consider it cheating; I wasn’t the only creature in the world that could pass invisible in the daylight hours. A Lyhtan attack would be far worse than anything I could dish out.
So I didn’t go easy on Asher. Or myself. I had to work my ass off to keep the upper hand, but I fought like my life depended on it. My reputation sure as hell did. Kick, jab, lunge. Elbow up. Duck and roll. Block once, twice. Over and over. And again. Incorporeal more times than not, I regained the upper hand through speed and stealth, rather than technique. A sweeping kick to his feet sent Asher to the floor, and I pinned him down with my fist to his shoulder. He bucked against me, and I increased the pressure. “Stay down, kid. We’re done.”
Asher relaxed. In fact, he looked relieved. Thank god. I was beat to shit and tired as fuck. Asserting yourself as the alpha is hard damn work.
“So, when do you head out for babysitting duty?” Asher asked as he toweled his face and neck. The adrenaline-infused sparkle had left his eyes, but the wild glint remained. He seemed much too young to look so haunted. I wanted to ask if I had the same look in my own eyes.
Instead, I pressed my heels into the soft foam mat, anchoring myself in place. “Don’t you mean, when do
we
head out?”
Asher didn’t even bat a lash at my words. The kid was damn near unflappable. “You sure you want to go head-to- so gss ohead with Raif? Because the way I heard it, your team doesn’t have room for a fifth member.”
“You let me worry about Raif. Be ready by noon. I want everyone assembled and prepped before we go anywhere.”
Asher gave me a sidelong glance. “Do you want to see those bullets first?”
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
* * *
I smelled like a locker room. Every inch of me was sticky with sweat and my stomach was bitching up a storm. Food and a shower would have to wait another few minutes, though. I wanted to see our hit man’s calling card.
Off the gym in a smaller, separate space was a weapons room. Swords, guns, axes, ammo, body armor . . . everything an army would need and then some. Even custom-made and black market shit from the looks of it. What did Raif, or Xander for that matter, care about legality? The Shaede Nation considered itself a kingdom apart from human laws. They wouldn’t bat a lash at procuring some less-than-legal weaponry.
“When Raif recovered the bullets, he hid them in here,” Asher said, moving a few boxes away from the far wall. “Put them in this safe.”
I leaned against a counter, my fingers tracing the pattern carved into one of the axe handles. “Who else saw him do this?” Didn’t sound like Raif to be so secretive and yet not watch his back.
Asher turned his attention to the safe. “Only me.”
“How many have the combination?” Again, a little strange.
“Just Raif.”
I pushed myself away from the counter, walked toward Asher. “And you have it how . . . ?”
Asher turned around and flashed a wicked, totally unapologetic grin. “I was in here when he hid the bullets, watched him enter the combo.”
He punched a series of numbers into a keypad and jerked down on the heavy handle. The safe door swung open, creaking like its uses were few and far between. Raif was the slyest person I knew. No way had Asher been in the room without Raif noticing. “Call me untrusting, but I’m having a hard time swallowing that.”
“I’m quiet,” Asher said with a shrug. The expression was easy, but his eyes were hard and guarded. “When I want to be, I’m practically invisible.” I believed it. When he’d come into the gym this morning, his footfalls had been featherlight. In fact, if not for my own heightened senses, I doubt I would have heard him at all. And, honestly, now that I thought back, I hadn’t sensed his actual physical presence until he was right on top of me. It was like he’d materialized out of thin air.
What had been a growing curiosity about Asher was now steering toward suspicion. The young Shaede obviously had his secrets, and secrets could be dangerous. I was more determined than ever to put him on my team. If anything, so I could keep an eye on him. “You’re either smart as hell or dumb as a sack of rocks, kid. If Raif finds out you know that combo, you might as well kiss your ass good-bye.”
Asher reached into the safe, scooped something up and held his hand out to me. “Are you going to tell him?”
I reached out, and Asher dropped the heavy metal into my palm. “Not unless I have to. Quit spying on people, and don’t break into any more safes. Otherwise, Raif won’t get the chance to deal with you because I’ll take care of it myself. I don’t have patience for eavesdroppers or thieves. Got it?”