Page 47 of Stealing Embers
That was a cheap shot.
This time, I keep my eyes glued to Steel—but it doesn’t make a difference.
Faster than my sight can track, he snaps his leg out and I’m once again on the ground, gasping for air. I lay there—my body aching in places I didn’t even know existed—for several long seconds.
With knit brows, Seth joins Steel and speaks to him in hushed tones. Steel nods and shrugs before their heads swivel toward me.
I’m on my feet by the time Seth makes it to me.
“You okay to keep going?” he asks.
I jerk my chin in a curt nod.
“Nephilim all have natural fighting instincts. I’m trying to engage yours to assess where your strengths are, but I don’t want you injured in the process.” He tries to find my eyes, but my gaze is focused on my opponent. “Steel isn’t going to knock you off your feet this time. Just do what you can to defend yourself. See if you can get in a shot.”
Interesting. I should pick up reading angelic languageandcombat skills quickly. I don’t hate that thought. There are worse things to have a natural aptitude for.
When I don’t respond, Seth steps out of view.
Steel saunters forward, his steps deceptively casual.
I’m not sure what he has in mind, but I’m beyond wary.
He cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he regards me.
An uncomfortable itch of awareness beckons me to hide, but I stand my ground.
A cruel smile quirks the corner of his lips.
He’s laughing at me.
I launch my body at his. I’m a mass of flailing arms and clumsy legs as I go at him in an uncoordinated attack. My mind isn’t calculating strategic places to land blows, or which limb can do the most damage. Instead, I’m a whirling kaleidoscope of emotions.
Fury and embarrassment dance together in my chest as I shoot out my appendages in sloppy, easily-deflected blows.
Steel isn’t doing anything but dodging and blocking my hits.
I’m tiring and he hasn’t even thrown a single punch.
My anger doubles, making my movements even more uncoordinated.
Losing my footing, I stumble a few steps when Steel dodges an ill-aimed kick. After regaining my balance, I twist to face him and snarl my displeasure.
His eyes widen at the inhuman noise that leaves my throat, but a moment later his lips curl at the corners in an annoying smirk I want to slap off his face.
“All right, Steel. Stop playing with her,” Seth yells.
Steel’s smile kicks up a notch.
Oh, you find this funny, do you buddy?
The grin doesn’t leave his face as he lifts his arms in a fighter’s stance and beckons me forward with his hand,Matrix-style.
I charge him, putting my weight into the punch I plan to land on his perfectly symmetrical face. But when I swing, his head is no longer where it’s supposed to be.
I register his outstretched arm too late to stop my momentum and run straight into it . . . with my throat.
Steel barely budges when he clotheslines me. Inertia keeps my lower body moving forward even as my upper body is forced back. I’m airborne for a second before my body slams into the padded floor for the third time.