Chapter 17

4 months later.

Justus straddled me with a blade, cutting into my neck. “Better, Learner. Again.”

I lifted my head and pulled up to my feet, legs slightly spread apart, one hand was behind my back, and the other was palm down. I waited for the anticipation of movement; he moved and I vaulted over him, landing on the other side. When his body spun around, we stared off again. I watched closely for subtle hints to pick up a sense of potential direction. Justus was teaching me about what the eyes tell, the position of the hands and feet, and even the lean of the body.

The training sessions had become my favorite time of the day. I was very pleased to find that I actually had skills, or at least potential. We did not have extraordinary strength, but we could utilize our abilities in a fight to gain the upper hand, making strength irrelevant… to a degree.

The only problem was that he wasn’t teaching me how to fight .

Justus was teaching me self-defense until I learned to master it. It became pretty clear I was living with a caveman who believed that men were the protectors and women had no business learning how to fight. He taught me some basic moves but he treated me differently.

I learned how to feel out the other person—to find out what made them tick—look for repeated patterns in their fighting in order to gain the element of surprise. He often compared sparring to a mental battle, making sure to teach me to always keep my wits about me and look for signs of weakness in the other. And it was a challenge each and every day to find some way to stomp his ass to the ground. While I knew I would never best him, it didn’t stop me from giving it my all.

His leg swiftly moved beneath mine and I lost my balance momentarily before I spun away and propelled myself to his left. In a flash, I moved back to face him—he wouldn’t have expected that because that was not my usual move. Justus would have expected me to fake him out by going to his right. But I had caught him off guard and thrust my open palm to his chest.

It was a fluid motion; in the four months of training I had learned how to become a current. Justus said I needed to get over my inertia, to accept the fact that I could move with the current of kinetic energy by flashing. It should only last a period of seconds or it would otherwise drain you. Basically, I could move like a ninja on speed. It’s not like I could zip on over to Canada and back in an hour, it didn’t work that way because your energy would be spent.

But I could at the very least cross the street faster than any known pedestrian.

Of course there were rules; there were always rules. I was not to use (or abuse) my abilities carelessly. With cameras everywhere, it was a risk and Breed did not expose themselves to humans. Justus said it was easier when they had insiders who worked for law enforcement who always kept their ears open and would destroy any evidence of Breed. But now with all the new technology of cameras in cell phones, anything could be recorded and uploaded to the internet. So they also had to branch off with serious computer geeks who knew how to hack into a site and take down these videos or spread a rumor that they were doctored if they had already gone viral.

Videos and photos could be easily manipulated, so most people didn’t believe what they saw anyhow, but it was still a conscious effort every Breed made to ensure that they were not outed. I wasn’t surprised to find the government knew about us, but even they were not stupid enough to expose the Breed.

The fighting did not come so naturally. I was still learning defense, but I tried to mimic some of his hand-to-hand combat techniques.

Whenever I did, it pissed him off.

“Why do you keep fighting me?” he yelled, snatching my wrist.

“Because that is the point! I don’t understand what you’re trying to teach me, if I am not able to get away I need to learn how to fight back and win.”

Justus was irritated, mostly because he knew I was right.

“You do not have to be the strongest or most skilled fighter to win. You tap into your source and ride it, trust it, then you have the advantage.”

I wiped some blood from my lip. “Win. You say this, but you’re not teaching me how to win, you’re only teaching me how to dodge a punch. Why don’t you teach me how to use one of those,” I asked, nudging my head to his blade.

He sheathed it and placed it back on the wall, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm.

“Because you cannot learn to use a blade until you properly learn to dance with one. Once you understand how it moves, how it is used, you can disarm your enemy.”

“Care to dance?”

Justus whirled around and shredded me apart with those eyes.

“Do not continue provoking me, Learner. Remember your place.”

Our sessions had gotten physical, and while we threw punches and drew blood, part of my learning was the acceptance of my immortality and ultimately, the acceptance of pain. Some of the bruises and scrapes I just had to suck up. I didn’t like the idea of borrowing from Justus all the time and God knows I never saw the light of day. I was stubborn, admittedly.

What I did know about our weapons was that a few wielded special power; some metals were forged long ago with a kind of magic. They are called stunners, and once plunged into the body of a Mage, will paralyze them for as long as it remains.

I pushed back the pain and dropped to my knees. I had cracked a rib during the last sparring session and it was starting to flare up. If Adam knew about our little death sessions in the basement, that would have been it. If he knew I spent my days getting knocked around, spitting out blood, and being chewed out by Justus, I’m certain he would have killed him.

At least, that’s how I imagined it. So much time had passed that it seemed like a lifetime ago since I had seen Adam. I often wondered if he had forgotten about me.

“Allow me.” I presumed he felt guilty for some of the injuries he inflicted.

One thing I noticed was that my threshold for pain was higher—I wasn’t sure if it was enduring the repeated sensation of pain and building a tolerance or if it was something more.

The room felt stuffy and the overhead lights were irritating my eyes. I could feel his light moving within me before it dissipated.

Pulling my ponytail tight, I took a few more shallow breaths. Justus was in his standard workout attire: black pants, tank top, and barefoot. In our sparring I found out his tribal tattoo on his arm wasn’t the only one he had. Beneath his shirt was a hollow sun with what looked more like lightning bolts than flames coming out centered on his back.

My legs jumped when a deafening buzz reverberated off the walls.

“What’s that?” I asked, staring upward.

He leapt to his feet and stared at the ceiling, a deep line forward on his brow. “Company.” And by the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting them. “Stay here, Learner.” His tone was edged with concern.

Justus disappeared up the stairs. I felt a little uneasy when a few moments later there were footsteps moving around up there and muffled voices. No one had ever come to visit. Curious, I went up the stairs as quiet as a cat, eavesdropping.

“Just stopping in to give a shout. I’m done with England, for good. Couldn’t exactly give you a ring, now could I—seeing as you haven’t entered the modern era. I heard you were here so I came to see my old friend. What happened to your face, mate?”

I noticed the accent was mottled, mostly English that faded in and out. When he said the word “here” it sounded more like “heh”.

“I thought you went home for good this time? It’s been a long while.”

“Well, Justus, that didn’t work out as well as I thought, a bit of a mistake really. I’ve been back for a few years. The last time I rang you weren’t here, so I got the sense that you were on the move again.”

His voice was not as deep as Justus’s and a little more melodic, but he put personality in his conversation, which made me believe he would be a really fun person to talk with… whoever he was.

“The Council is now up to five. Merc is one of them.”

“Merc?” he exclaimed. “Sodding idiot was on probation; you’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m not; the dynamic has changed.”

“Times are changing.”

“That they are, my friend. That they are.”

I stepped into the entrance and both heads turned.

“Bloody hell ,” the guest cursed as he moved his eyes to Justus. “Haven’t we been the busy little bee?”

I looked over the man Justus was standing next to and he ran his hand invitingly down his chest as he appraised my attire.

He stood a hair shorter than Justus; his body type was leaner and he looked more like he should be fronting a rock band. Black leather jacket draped over his shoulders, graffiti T-shirt, and a silver chain that ran along the belt loop of his black pants. His brown tousled hair hung to his shoulders with that “just got out of bed” style. There was a sweet richness to his eyes, which were a light caramel and complemented his cheekbones and light skin coloring. And his mouth… a mouth that was full, kissable, and meant to be all over a woman’s body. A mouth that began to curve into a wicked grin as his eyes locked with mine, revealing a pronounced dimple on his left cheek, which immediately made me blush and study the floor.

“Gonna introduce me, mate?” He folded his arms and elbowed Justus.

Justus took a position at my side. “Learner, this is Simon Hunt, an old friend of mine. Simon, behave.”

“Justus, I would have never imagined you would finally take in a woman. Well done.”

“No, it’s not like that,” I interjected. “He’s my Ghuardian.”

Simon dropped his arms and his jaw unhinged. I could see all the questions bubbling in his eyes. “You don’t say.” His mouth curled up again, showing off his dimple. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, Justus. I want every bleeding detail.”

Simon strode toward me with a swagger that couldn’t be taught. His hand reached for mine, and when I went to shake it, he bent over and pressed a kiss to it. There was a glimmer of amusement in his expression as he briefly looked at Justus. He seemed absolutely…

“Enchanted,” Simon greeted me as he straightened his back. A dark look flashed across his face before it was replaced with a smile. “Your Ghuardian has no manners, love. Here, allow me.” When he reached up to touch my face, there was a slap of skin as Justus caught his wrist.

“That’ll be enough, Simon.” He cleared his throat before adding, “She’s already taken in more than she should.”

“Of course .” He winked.

“Will you be staying for dinner? I have to shower, but I’d like to come back and join you two if you don’t mind.”

“If you don’t mind,” he added, “I’d very much like to join you .”

Meaning—in the shower.

Justus leaned forward as if he meant to do something about the comment and Simon lifted his hands defensively. Simon was the fresh air that I craved; I was brimming with excitement that a visitor was in the house.

Strolling into the living room, Simon called out, “You know, now that I give it a bit of thought…” He fell on the sofa, arms wide across the back. “I believe I will be needing a place to put my feet up. Justus?”

Justus shook his head, displeased, and joined Simon on the couch. “Stay as long as you like, friend; my home is always open to you. I want to hear all about your travels. Learner, go clean up. Dinner will be at six. Be prompt.”

I did as ordered and quickly sprinted down the hall into my room.

What I immediately liked about Simon was that while he looked like a bad boy, he acted like a total gentleman. Didn’t really speak like one, but he wasn’t vulgar about it, nor did he peruse my body with sexual need in those eyes. Not that I would have had a problem with that. He was a contradiction of himself and it fed my curiosity as to which one he really was. Oh my god, was I getting high school butterflies? You bet.

After my shower, I dried my hair and braided it back, threw on a little mineral powder to cover the bruise on my face, and applied lip gloss before rummaging through my clothes. I opened the closet and pulled out the black trousers and white shirt that Justus had bought me. I slid the trousers on and was satisfied with how well they fit—snug around my hips and the shirt was classy but simple. It made me curious how Justus knew my size when even I didn’t. I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. My green eyes popped behind my black lashes and dark hair, accentuated by the light coloring of my skin, which had a honey tint. While my fingers were long and delicate, my nails were a mess. I had to keep them short due to the fighting, so I never bothered with a manicure—not that I ever had before—but now I was flicking at my cuticles with a little embarrassment.

I realized I was stalling. On the way to the dining room, I brushed my hands over my slacks and heard voices, laughter, and the sound of clinking glasses filling the space of a once-silent house.

“Hi,” I greeted, clearing my throat.

No, it wasn’t the grand entrance I imagined in my head. Someone forgot to cue the band and give me a witty line.

Simon’s hand went down in slow motion, setting the wine on the table as he said, “Well, render me speechless.”

Both chairs slid back and the men rose to their feet. Justus could have been catching flies as he looked at the outfit he had bought me that I never wore, and his cheeks were blotchy.

“Allow me,” Simon said. “Someone has to be the gentleman here. It’s not every day we’re in the presence of a female Mage.” Simon cupped my elbow and escorted me to my chair. Leaning around, his breath tickled my neck. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Wow,” was all I could manage to say.

There were actually dishes and crystal glasses on the table. Candles flickered at the center and each plate had a serving of carrots and roasted potatoes next to a sumptuous rib eye steak. There was a beautiful salad and a plate of spring onions with radishes. My mouth immediately watered.

Simon’s jacket was tossed casually over the back of his chair on my right, giving me an appreciative look at his physique. While he did not match Justus in size, he was hard and toned. His profile was very striking and made me look more than once.

He rested his elbows and forearms on the table, looking proudly at the setting. These two men didn’t look like the type to forge a fast friendship, I thought curiously, looking at Simon’s torn black shirt and leather wrist cuff. For someone who sported so much leather it was oddly contrasted against skin which didn’t have a single tattoo or piercing that I could see.

My face scrunched at Justus. “You didn’t cook this, did you?”

Simon leaned over and poured red wine into my glass. “That man may be able to dress for the occasion, but he could not cook to save his own life. Of course you know that by now.” He gave a wink and took his chair. “I, on the other hand, am not without certain skills which I have refined to an art form. I find that the meal is a prelude to the pleasures of the bedroom. It sets the tone. If I can make a woman moan at the table, then I’ve already got her eating out of my hand. And… I do believe it’s time you had a proper meal.”

The statement was left out there hanging, making me wonder about the latter part. He took a napkin and sharply shook it out, placing it over his lap. “Is everything to your liking?”

That was a fully loaded question if I ever heard one.

“Umm, yeah. My eyes are having sex with this table as we speak.”

Justus choked on his wine and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. The silence was pierced by Simon’s contagious laugh. He was a man who enjoyed a good one, too, as he let it go long and strong until the awkward moment was removed and I found myself smiling at him. I reached for a slice of fresh, warm bread in the cloth-lined basket and spread a blanket of butter across the top.

“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. I’m going to devour everything—this looks amazing.”

“As do you; don’t you agree, Justus?”

Justus returned his stare with a contemptuous one of his own. I took a lingering sip of my wine and discovered what I had been ordering in restaurants was pure swill compared to this. Simon continued to ask for Justus’s opinion of me, and I gathered he was testing the waters to see if Justus had any interest in me.

Little did he know that wasn’t the case. As sumptuous-looking as he was, we had a very teacher-student relationship going on and our personalities clashed in a way that burned out any physical desire that bloomed.

“How did you get the steak cooked up so fast? Microwave?”

“I never arrive unannounced without something big and juicy in hand.”

Oh dear Lord .

“So you two are old friends,” I said, changing the subject. “Where are you from, Simon? I’m going to guess England, so if I’m wrong, dinner is on me next time.”

“Define… on.” Simon gave a wolfish grin and refilled his wine glass with a heavy glug, glug .

“Simon,” Justus warned, plunging his fork into a potato that met its demise between his powerful jaws.

After taking a long, thoughtful sip from his crystal glass, Simon crossed his knife over the steak. “Well then, on those conditions I must confess that I am from Spain.”

“While you’re confessing, Simon, maybe you should mention that you only lived there, so that does not count.”

After two or three chews of his meat, Justus continued with a mouthful. “He’s from England. We’ve been friends for a turn of a century, give or take.” Justus held his fork like a man still trying to stab his meal to death. “After I saved his ass.”

“Saved me ?” Simon seemed appalled by the very notion as his pitch rose. “I would have bested that Mage.”

“You certainly bested his wife,” Justus murmured.

“Yes, and he wasn’t all too pleased with that, now was he?” Simon was very animated with his arms when he spoke, even if he held a glass in his hand. “I learned my lesson, mate. What a mouth on that one, right? And despite what you believe, I did not shag her knowing that she was bonded to him.”

“Didn’t see the mark, hmmm?” Justus replied. “You’ve been saying that for decades.”

“Justus, my eyes were not in that postcode, my friend.” He chuckled.

“What mark?” I took a long sip of wine as I studied the way they looked at each other.

Justus picked up a carrot with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. “Some choose to permanently stay together. It’s not common… there aren’t—” He paused.

“Aren’t what?” I asked.

“Very many female Mage, is what he means to say,” Simon blurted. “Those who hook up for the long haul get a bonding mark. Most Breed don’t really believe in rings, we go for something more permanent.” He snorted. “Can’t be taken off as easily.”

I liked Simon; he was honest and answered my questions. I felt like I could get information from him that Justus wasn’t always willing to discuss. Everything was always for a later lesson.

“How long will Simon be staying with us?”

Simon was the one who replied. “That remains up to your…. Ghuardian.” He thoroughly seemed to enjoy playing with that title as the tip of his tongue ran along the prongs of the fork. I heard a low growl across the table and Justus drank his wine to the bottom.

“Learner, what does he do all day with you, knock you around?”

I rolled my eyes. “Mostly; after that he reads me bedtime stories about Mage law.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Simon gave an infectious laugh and winked. “Torture, indeed. All work and no play? Surely he lets you out.”

“Never.”

Justus was avoiding my stare. Simon laced his fingers together and obscured his mouth. Something played across his face I wasn’t able to read.

“Justus, a Ghuardian needn’t shelter the Learner. In fact,” he said pointedly, “they absolutely must get out there and interact with the humans. She must learn how to handle that kind of energy and interact with her own kind, as well. You don’t do her any service by keeping her locked up in here,” he said, waving his fork. “You can train her all you want in that dungeon of yours, but if you don’t expose her to the simple things she needs to learn to control, then she’ll always be vulnerable.”

Silence swept through the room and I set my fork down on the plate. That singular noise snapped the tension.

“It’s decided.” Simon gleamed. “Tomorrow, we go to the club.”

Justus didn’t look too thrilled, more defeated than anything. “Fine.”

Simon rolled his tongue across the inside of his bottom lip, tasting victory. Scratch “no piercing.”

“How did you two meet?” Simon asked.

“In a bar.”

“Ah, a pub. Should have guessed.” He chuckled softly.

“I was trying to enjoy my glass of tea while he was trying to get me to wear it.” That conjured a smile on Justus’s face as he took a bite of food.

“I see you still have a way with the ladies, Justus. But I have to give you a four-point-five in technique.”

“It took some convincing, but I finally agreed to let him be my Ghuardian, and here I am.”

“Yes, here you are,” Simon said, raising his glass with a smile. I raised mine and our glasses clinked together. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a social dinner with good conversation. Being holed up for months with Mr. Partypooper was beginning to eat at my fragile state of mind.

After dinner, I cleared the table to let the boys catch up. Simon watched the way Justus and I interacted with keen interest. It pleased him anytime I disagreed or made a sarcastic remark. He gave an expression like he had never seen anyone stand up to Justus.

I set a glass in the dish rack and reached for a plate when I jumped, startled by someone standing beside me.

“Simon is right. You must learn control in the outside world,” he said, rubbing his tattoo. “We will talk about conditions to this; you’ll require close protection.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’ll be near, right?”

I ran a dish under the hot water, scraping the plate and wondering why it took a visit from his friend to make him figure that out.

“Here, allow me,” he said. “You should take care not to ruin your new outfit.” Justus took the plate but paused. I caught something in that look—it was warm and gentle. “You look nice; I should have told you before. This look is becoming on you.” Color rose on his cheeks when I didn’t respond right away, but I guess I was waiting for a punch line and was taken off guard by his sincerity.

“Are you paying me a compliment? That must have been some strong wine—I know how you hate the way I normally dress.”

“You do not embarrass me.”

Steam rose from the hot water and I reached over him to grab the plate and began to dry it with a cloth.

“You smell nice,” he started to say under his breath before the door swung open and Simon waltzed in like a hurricane holding the empty wine bottle.

“We got any more of these, mate?” He waved the bottle and set it down on the stretch of cabinet.

“Had I known you were visiting, I would have made sure the wine was at the ready. Let me find something vile,” Justus barked as he strode out the doorway.

Simon sidled up and put his elbows on the sink, leaning back.

“One hundred dollars says he leaves the bar with a girl on each arm.”

“Whatever.” I coughed. “He hasn’t gone out in months and frankly the way he talks to women is infuriating. Plus, he would never do that in front of me; I think he’d be too embarrassed of my making fun of him,” I whispered.

“Chicken?” He started to cluck.

“Nooo.” I tossed the dishtowel at him and he flinched. “I don’t have any money.”

“Well then,” he considered, “I shall take a kiss as my reward.”

“Shall you? And if I win, I get the money?” The prospect of having a little pocket cash perked me right up. A girl could always use a little mascara, a few books, maybe some decent chocolate.

He dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. I spied a mark on the back of his neck where his hair swept back. I leaned back for a better look when he snapped around to face me. Simon leaned in as if telling a secret and his arm lightly touched mine, making my hairs stand on end.

“You shall be… justly rewarded. But of course I’m good for the money! A word of advice, love? Put on your sweetest gloss. That man always has his cake… and eats it, too.” He laughed.

The door swung wide and Justus came in, carrying a bottle in each hand, looking between them as if he couldn’t decide.

“See what I mean?”

Pushing off of the counter, Simon plucked a bottle of vintage from his left hand and strode out the door.