by J.J. Bonds
**********
I’m nervous as I enter the training center. I’m glad to see Nik, and I won’t be sparring alone today. There are several other students working out. It’s our first session of the new semester. I haven’t seen Nik since New Year’s Eve when he kissed me. I haven’t really thought about it much since then either. I haven’t had the time, and, in the grand scheme of things, a kiss is pretty insignificant. It was, after all, just one little kiss.
Mostly, I’m annoyed that Nik seems hell-bent on screwing things up between us. I just want to train and become the best fighter that he can make me. Why can’t he accept that? We were just starting to find our rhythm, and I’m hoping that nothing has changed. I’m anxious to continue with the aggressive training schedule. I won’t let my nightmares or anything else get in the way.
“Hey, Katia.” His greeting is friendly. His attitude relaxed. Maybe I don’t have anything to worry about. Maybe New Year’s was a fluke. Perhaps he just got caught up in the moment.
Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? I don’t believe that for a second. I’ve seen the intensity with which he approaches his training, his studies, everything in his life. He’s not one to get swept up in the moment. I’ll just have to ignore it. I won’t give him any encouragement. It’ll be fine. Probably.
“Hi.” It’s as much of a greeting as I can muster with my mind in turmoil.
“Good news,” he tells me as he stands. “I spoke to Garcia about getting you moved up to a more advanced class. He’s agreed.”
“Really?” It’s difficult to hide my excitement. This is something I really wanted, and I was starting to get anxious about Garcia’s decision. I figured if I didn’t hear anything before classes started up again then it was a no-go.
“He’s working it out with Pratt. It will mean some minor changes to your schedule, but you’ll be far more challenged.” He pauses, smiling playfully. “Of course, Garcia’s other assistants aren’t nearly as skilled, but you’ll have to make do. Just don’t let them screw up all of my hard work.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d be moved from Nik’s class. I’m surprised to discover that I’m actually disappointed by this news. At least he’d agreed to continue the one-on-one sessions. I reason that I’ll have the best of both worlds. I’ll have the opportunity to spar with other partners in class while getting individual instruction from Nik in the evenings. It should allow me to accelerate my training even more. And that’s what matters most, isn’t it?
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I ask joining him at the back wall. See? Just push all that other crap aside and focus on what really matters: training. “I’m getting tired of sparring. Can we move on to something else? Maybe mix it up a little?”
“Tired of getting beat?” he teases with his ‘I know how good I look with my dark hair falling over my eyes’ smile.
He’s kidding, but it still burns a little. I refuse to let him bait me today. “I’d like to try the crossbow.”
“Solid choice.” At least he approves of my taste in weaponry. “Have you shot one before?”
“Nope.” I resist the urge to tell him that, if I knew how to use it, I obviously wouldn’t need him.
“You’re going to love this.” He selects a crossbow from the wall and hands it to me. It’s not what I’d expected. It’s far more modern than I had imagined. The metal shaft is cool on my hands, and I note that it’s got some weight to it. The shape is similar to a rifle and it has even got a scope mount for accuracy. Across the stock there is a bow that stretches horizontally in both directions. I estimate it’s a foot and a half wide. It looks and feels powerful. I would be willing to bet the crossbow is military grade. I can’t wait to shoot it.
“This is a VSE Z9 tactical assault weapon. It’s not easy to come by, but it’s a favorite of the Linkuri. It’s reliable, powerful, and deadly accurate. VSE has made some impressive enhancements to this model. It can shoot a bolt over 400 feet per second and expels better than 153 pounds of kinetic energy. But the best part is the reload.”
“Why’s that?” He might as well be speaking gibberish. I know zip about this type of weapon. Nik, on the other hand, is clearly an expert. Big surprise. He’s excited though, and that’s got my attention.
“This baby doesn’t require manual cocking. In a traditional crossbow you have to reset the bows’ tension and reload after every shot. It’s time consuming and would otherwise be prohibitive to making the crossbow a combat weapon. This model overcomes that little caveat.” His eyes are glowing with exhilaration. I can’t help but smile. I feel the same way about this beautiful piece of equipment.
“The Z9 has a wicked fast motor that will reload automatically with the press of a button.” He points to a small red switch that protrudes from the shaft of the weapon, just above the trigger. “Once you pull the trigger, press here, and the bow will be cocked again and reloaded. The VSE Z9 holds nine projectiles; eight in the wings and one in the track.” He barely pauses. “Ready to try it out?”
“Most definitely.” I grudgingly hand him the weapon so that he can show me how to load the arrow properly. After a quick demonstration, he raises the bow to his shoulder and slides his guide hand down to the nose for better aim. I pay close attention to his stance and keep my attention focused on him, even as the arrow is released. I know without looking that he’s hit the target 50 yards down the range; probably a bull’s eye judging by the satisfied look on his face.
“Your turn.” He hands me the bow, and I do my best to repeat his movements from just moments ago. I raise the butt of the bow to my shoulder and peer into the sight. I pull the trigger and send an arrow of my own flying down range and into the target. It’s not exactly a direct hit, but I’ve made contact. I flip the switch and brace myself for a second shot. I unload the remaining six arrows. My accuracy improves with practice. Nik gives me pointers to help sharpen my form, and it seems to help my aim as well. He’s a great teacher and this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks! I love the feel of this weapon.
I turn to Nik as I reload. “So what kind of damage could a weapon like this do?” The meaning is implied. Could it kill a vampire or is it just for sport?
“At best it’s lethal, at worst it’ll buy you some time. A direct hit to center mass would slow your attacker down. The force of penetration would be enough to stop a bear with the right ammunition. Or a vampire.”
I finish reloading and turn my attention back to the target. Niks’s replaced the bull’s eye with a human form. He’s even drawn fangs on it for fun. “Nice,” I comment, as I raise my weapon. I peer through the sight wanting to make the most of each and every shot. Nik wanders off toward the armory. I rattle off my shots, and he’s back before I can reload again.
“Here. Try these.” He hands me a new type of projectile. These new ones are made of metal.
“What are these?” I ask. I don’t know what to make of them. They’re like arrows, but a little shorter and squatter. They seem sturdier, but I wonder if they’ll fly as fast due to their bulk.
“Bolts,” he says, casually hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “Well, modified bolts. The arrows are good for target practice. They’re cheap and accurate, but for battle I’d recommend these. Another Linkuri special. Annihilators.”
Intrigued, I delicately load the bolts into the crossbow. I don’t waste any time shooting them off. The results are much different this time. The target is obliterated. Instead of a series of tightly clustered puncture marks, most of the target has been wiped out leaving an enormous gaping hole.
“What happened?” I ask dumbfounded.
Nik strides down the range and collects the ruined projectiles. Some have stuck in the wall while others have been expelled and lay on the floor in ruins. He returns open handed and shows me the damaged bolts. “They expand on impact,” he explains. “There are four sharp blades contained in each. Once the tip hits a pressure point, the razors emerge shredding everything in their path
. A direct hit to the brain or heart would put your adversary down. No question.”
I don’t want to be morbid, but I want him to elaborate. Does he mean it would put them down as in dead or put them down as in slowed for the death blow? I recall from Anatomy that removing the head or the heart is the only way to truly stop a vampire, short of a few searing hours under a UV lamp. Perhaps it’s best not to dwell on such things. I have a long way to go before I have to worry about defending my life, right?
“Solid,” I return finally, echoing his words from earlier in the session. I reluctantly hand over the crossbow. I feel naked giving it up. We’ve only practiced for a short time, but it felt so natural. I have got to get a Z9 of my own.
“We’ve still got some time before curfew,” Nik tells me, checking his watch. “You up for a little hand-to-hand?”
“Why not? I could stand to burn off a little more energy.” Better to stay here and maybe get my butt kicked by Nik than to go back to my room where I’ll be alone with my dreams.
We clean up the range and hit the mat. The place is pretty well deserted now, but it doesn’t matter. The awkwardness between us has passed. We square up and face off. I’m determined not to yield to him tonight. I don’t care if he rips my arms from the sockets. I’m not giving up.
I attack, a battle cry erupting from my throat. I catch Nik with a side kick and follow it up with a spinning back fist. For my trouble I get chop to the midsection. I double over in agony. Nik drops to the ground and swings his leg wide, sweeping my feet out from under me. I slam into the mat landing on my side, a vicious reminder that there is no time to rest or recover. In one fluid motion he’s back on his feet in a defensive position. I roll over quickly, crouching on my hands and feet. I spring forward, once again on the attack. Nik is able to block my punch easily. I retreat a few feet, again crouching low and making myself as small as possible. I hope Nik will find a smaller target more difficult to strike.
This strategy works to my advantage. Nik misjudges his next kick, and I’m able to intercept his leg, flipping him backward onto the mat. Nik’s no slouch though, and he returns the favor, throwing me over his head and rolling on top of me. He pins my body to the mat with his own, the hard muscles of his body pressing into mine. I struggle unsuccessfully to free myself but his powerful hands bind my wrists over my head. He presses them hard into the mat as he stares into my eyes.
And there it is. The awkwardness between us comes roaring back with a vengeance. In the span of a heartbeat the entire mood of the gym has shifted. Our friendly rivalry is gone and in its place emerges a lustful tension that won’t be ignored. Hell’s bells! Apparently Nik was just waiting for the right time to make another move.
The heat of his gaze burns through me like wildfire and it’s a wonder I don’t melt right there on the floor beneath him. There’s nothing cold about the crystalline blue eyes locked on my lips and I feel myself getting pulled into the delicate planes of his face. I want nothing more at this moment than to run my hands through the dark, sexy curls spilling over his forehead as the all too familiar scent of lavender and spice overwhelm my senses.
Nik releases my left hand first, his own hand slowly gliding down the soft flesh of my arm and up onto my cheek, caressing it gently. My body trembles at his touch, but if he notices, he gives no indication. Nik’s every move is seductive. By the time his lips brush mine I’m desperate for his kiss, my body charged like a live wire.
His lips devour me. The kiss is rough. There is no sign of the gentleness that was there on New Year’s Eve as he forces my mouth open, his tongue slipping past my lips. My body responds to him, hungry for more. His kiss awakens a passion that’s lain dormant too long. As his body shifts forcing my knees apart, I realize that I want this moment to last. The feel of his body against mine, the closeness, is comforting and empowering at the same time. His desire excites me. And angers me. Who does he think he is? And what the hell am I doing? I jerk my right hand free and shove him off of my body. We both sit up, and, before he can utter a single word, I slap him across the face as hard as I can. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at me dumbfounded.
He doesn’t look angry. Just hurt. Maybe confused. Good! Now he knows how I feel. I climb to my feet, and he starts to laugh. I whirl around and glare at him for all I’m worth.
“That’s what I love about you, Katia!” He’s still laughing. I don’t see what’s so funny. “You’re full of surprises!”