On the Hunt (Sentinel Wars #3.5)(6)
Author: Gena Showalter

Steady.

More of the distance was swallowed by his steps. When their toes touched, when she could once again smelll the peat smoke, the corners of his lips twitched as if her refusal to run amused him. She didn’t mean to, but she breathed deeply, savoring, wanting so badly to arch into him.

Why had she let him come? Why hadn’t she pulled a knife?

"We’re going to spar, you and I, whether you wish to or not, so I can judge your skill. But how about this? Every time you strike me, I’ll answer a question."

She gulped. The one thing she couldn’t resist: information. "No threats of endless pain to get what you want?" Of course, he could be lying, meaning to attack to kill, as he’d implied, and not merely to judge.

"Not this time."

She didn’t trust him, but she said, "All right," and meant it. And her capitulation had nothing to do with a raging desire to put her hands on him and have his hands on her. If necessary, she would force the information out of him. "Just to be clear, I can ask any question I want?"

"Absolutely any."

"And you’ll answer honestly?"

"I always do."

"Even if I ask how to divorce you? And live?"

He pretended to wipe away a tear. "That hurts, darling. It really does."

"That’s only the—"

She never saw him move, but he managed to kick her feet out from under her while shoving her down. On impact, her brain rattled against her skull, and she choked on that delicious breath she’d just taken.

No time to react. He pounced while she was prone, pinning her shoulders with his knees and her stomach with his ass. I shouldn’t like this. Yet her body sighed in contentment, as if this was what it had craved the past year.

"First order of business. Disarming." Five seconds flat, he had every single one of her weapons thrown to the side. Would have been two seconds, but he studied the syringe before chucking it over his shoulder. "Bring a machine gun next time, darling. They pack more of a punch."

Terror should have filled her, but anger did instead. Mocking bastard. At least he didn’t go for the killshot. And how did he know so much about her world? Had he been born there? If so, did that mean he was a Walker, too?

"Second order. Distraction." He waited, peering at her expectantly. When she remained silent, he sighed. "Darling, this is the part where you apologize for being so distracted during my brilliant tutorial."

She flashed her teeth in a snarl. "No, this is the part where I—" Smash your nose into your brain, she thought as she jabbed the heel of her open palm toward his smirking—kissable—face.

Wouldn’t do to warn him.

Just before contact, he rolled out of the way. Suddenly she could breathe. She found herself gasping, sucking in mouthful after mouthful of air, shocked that she’d gone so long without it and hadn’t suspected.

"Third order. Fighting past the pain. You’re just lying there, daring me to attack while you’re vulnerable. Were you anyone else, I would. Up."

With stars winking behind her eyes, she pushed to her feet and faced him. "You rotten piece of —"

His laughter was the only warning she had. In the next instant, he was on her, once more shoving her down. This time, he didn’t pause and explain his actions. He simply taught her the consequences of daring someone to attack. For hours. She grunted, she groaned, she ached—a far different kind of ache—and she bled. Oh, did she bleed.

A few times, she thought he even broke her bones.

That didn’t stop or slow him. He really was determined to killl her, she supposed. That didn’t stop or slow her, either. Every time he knocked her down, she got up. Every time he cut her, she wiped the blood on her shirt and smiled. After her second smile, the instructions began. In English at first, and then in his language. She shouldn’t have understood him, but as he translated his meaning, she began to learn far more easily than should have been possible. As if the language had always been stored in her brain, and she just hadn’t unlocked it yet.

Vasili told her what she was doing wrong and what she needed to do to improve. Again, for hours. An eternity. But not once did she strike him.

"Stay down, damn you," he finally snarled after tossing her to her ass again. "Stay down, and the pain ends. You’ve had enough."

Never. Rose lumbered to her throbbing feet. Her eyes were swollen, her line of vision shit, but she waved her fingers at him. "Come on," she said haltingly, the harsh words of the new language weird on her tongue. She would not give up, and she would have her curiosity assuaged.

For a long while, he remained in place, a few feet away, panting, studying her. Then he tangled a hand through his hair, disrupting the dark locks and sending them falling over his forehead.

"Stubborn little baggage, aren’t you?"

"What? Too sweet to take me?"

His lips twitched again, and her heart raced. No one should be that handsome. Especially a man who had just kicked her ass. Although, in his defense, he’d never struck her in anger. Every move he’d made had been designed to teach her.

"Darling, you just asked me if I was too sweet to take you."

As her cheeks heated, she switched to English. "You know what I meant. Too tired to fight me."

He laughed outright, then frowned, as if the laugh angered him. "One question," he said flatly.

"You can ask me one question."

Not enough, she wanted to scream. One wasn’t enough. She wanted to know about this world—what he called it, what the monsters were, why those monsters deferred to him. She wanted to know what else Vasili knew about her origins, what he planned to do with her, why he’d bonded them. She wanted to know how he’d controlled her body that first time and why he hadn’t this time.

She wanted to know . . . what he thought of her, if he liked her. Who he was. What he was.

"Hurry. Before I change my mind." Disgust layered his tone, as if he couldn’t believe he’d even made the offer in the first place. "You don’t deserve it, after all, and I have never—"

"How—how do I come here at will?" The words left her mouth before she could snatch them back. She never wanted to come here again. Even on her next birthday. Damn, damn, damn. Of all the stupid things to ask! But to her knowledge, no one else could do so. They traveled only on their birthdays.

He spun away from her—but not before she saw the flicker of surprise in those magnificent violet eyes. He strode out of the tent, leaving her standing, stunned, and unsure. Should she follow him? Should she—He stomped back inside, holding two glasses of that amber liquid.