by Janelle Peel
It was eerily quiet. I hazarded that we were deep underground. Rolling my eyes at his silence, we trekked on for what seemed like forever.
Finally, we reached another steel door. Jackson turned the handle, held it open, and jerked his head for me to enter.
Once inside, I took in the small chamber. The same steel met my eyes. There was a black bench off to the side and a rebar ladder that led up through a tube to God knew where.
I looked at Jackson curiously.
“Up,” he pointed to the ladder with one long finger.
What a jackass, I verbalized with a sigh.
The rungs were cold on my bare feet as I tried not to trip over my skirt during my ascent. The tube opened to a large deserted room with bunks lined up in tidy rows. A small kitchen was tucked away in the corner.
Jackson passed me again and led me to the other side of the room. Yet another steel door greeted us.
Clenching my teeth in annoyance, I entered after he pulled it open.
Wow, my eyes widened as I stopped and stared at the huge room. It reminded me of one of those fancy ‘members only’ gyms. Workout equipment took up half of the real estate with colorful rock climbing pegs drilled into the abutting grey, concrete wall. A small catwalk circled the 3-story room with ropes hanging overhead at varying lengths and intervals from the ceiling. The other half of the floor was made up of a red dojo style mat, complete with a weapons rack bristling with everything from wooden training swords to javelins. Guns, machetes, even a battle ax, all hung from the wall on black hooks in orderly rows.
My mouth slowly opened and closed.I spied a shooting range through a glass window tucked away in the corner by another door. What the hell? Training grounds, indeed. The sound of the door settling into place snapped my mouth shut with a click.
Jackson moved to sit on a weight bench near the other equipment and began unlacing his shiny dress shoes. Standing, he toed them off and shucked his black blazer, revealing a green dress shirt that strained to contain the sinewy muscles of his arms.
I turned away and watched him from the corner of my eye when he finally spoke. “There’s a black bag next to you,” he paused pulling the bowtie free. “The clothes should be your size. The locker room is over there by the range.”
I followed the jerk of his head as he began working the buttons free from his shirt.
Not wanting to stay and stare more than I already had, I picked up the small messenger bag from the arm of a treadmill and opened it as I walked to the locker room. Hmm, I thought as I pawed through the bag, revealing a black tank and yoga pants.
The room was as big as my bedroom. Charcoal painted lockers took up one wall with toilet stalls on the other. White plastic curtained showers were tucked away at the end of the room. My eyes caught my reflection as I passed the mirror above the utilitarian steel sinks.
Still looking good, I thought, and flashed my reflection a thumbs up.
Placing the bag on the hook in the first shower stall, I unlatched the clasp of my dress under my arm and slowly slid the hidden zipper down to my hip so I wouldn’t get pinched. My breasts sprang free as the shimmering turquoise material slipped down my frame and pooled at my feet. Lifting it from the floor, I threw it over the plastic curtain rod.
What I’d failed to notice with my cursory glance of the bags’ contents, now became blaringly clear. No sports bra, no panties. The panties weren’t a worry, but my small C’s would feel every bump and jostle if we were going to work out. Smirking to myself, I pulled the tank over my head and wondered what Jackson’s reaction would be.
The tank fit like a second skin, showcasing the outline of my nipples beneath the black fabric. Adjusting the thin shoulder straps to display a little cleavage, I pulled on the stretchy yoga pants and nearly fell over as my foot caught in the leg.
Real smooth, Viv.
My bare feet slapped against the concrete floor as I exited the stall to check my reflection.
Hmm, not too bad. Everything molded perfectly to my body. The pants flared slightly from my knee to my ankle. A little long, but at not as bad as they would have been had I not gained 6 inches in height when I was turned. Taking a deep breath, I went to find Jackson.
Jackson
He stood in the center of the rubber mat, trying to calm his nerves, when the door to the locker room swung open and revealed Viv.
She snarked as she approached the mat, “Alright, I’ve dressed appropriately. Now, tell me what the hell we’re doing.”
He grinned at her fiery tone. “Practice. You need to learn your new skillset. How fast you can move, how to take someone down.” He paused and lowered his voice, “How to kill.”
Her bare feet slapped onto the mat, stopping, she cocked a hip and snickered, “I suppose you think can show me how to do that?”
He rumbled a chuckle, “Yes.”
“Mmm hmm, right.” Her voice was layered with sarcasm. She flung her arm toward the weapons rack. “Swords? Grappling, martial arts?”
“Ladies choice,” he smirked.
Her hips swayed as she approached him. The cotton of her tank accentuated every delicate curve of her figure. He sucked in a breath when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything beneath his selections.
“Yeah,” she quipped, noticing his perusal. “Didn’t quite think that through, did ya?”
The emerald flecks in her dark eyes sparkled in merriment as she gave him her own perusal. Beginning at his bared feet, she took in his dress pants first and slowly worked her way up, ending at his naked chest. She inhaled in short bursts through her pert nose, scenting his interest.
He cleared his throat, “Apologies. I don’t dress women often.”
Her face turned predatory, the green flecks of her eyes disappeared and her pupils dilated.
He tilted his head and dipped his brows, confused by her reaction.
“Dress women occasionally, then?” She rumbled just before her form blurred and slammed him to the mat. Pinning his arms above his head, she straddled his hips. Glaring, she bit out, “Good enough?”
He smirked, then flipped her beneath him. Leaning down to her exposed ear he whispered, “No.”
She shifted her hips and threw him over her head. Standing with a smirk of her own, she flashed and grabbed a wooden practice staff from the rack.
Taking her challenge, he padded over and grabbed his own pole. Pacing back to his start point, he gestured with his fingers curling in toward him, ‘give it your best shot.’
She blurred again while he tried to anticipate her swing.
Thwack!
The pole thudded behind his knees, dropping him to his back once more. She loomed over his prone form, leisurely tapping the blunt end of her staff against his neck. “Not good enough. Try again.”
His foot shot out to trip her before she could move back. She stumbled, but refused to fall, almost puncturing the mat with her staff a hairs breath from where his head had just been.
He zipped to the other side of the ring as she straightened. Twirling her staff with deft fingers, a predatory gleam entered her eyes. She balanced on the balls of her feet and issued him the same challenge with her curled fingers.
Blurring his form, he flashed to strike her thigh.
Thunk!
The sound echoed off the concrete walls. He felt the reverberation of his strike on her pole instead. He stepped back, nodding in approval.
She flashed again, feinting a lunge with her pole toward his right knee. He fell for it as she brought the other end of her staff up in one smooth motion and decked him beneath his chin with a flawless uppercut.
Blood dribbled from his mouth as he hit the mat on his back, trying to figure out how she had bested him.
Viv leaned against her staff and extended a hand toward him. Her eyes twinkled in silent laughter.
Viv
This was fun! I watched as Jackson raised his hand toward my outstretched fingers. The corner his right eye slightly tightened. Intuiting his intenti
on when his hand grasped mine, I braced my legs while he flexed his torso to pull me down.
Then I let go of his hand.
Standing my full 5’6” height, I chuckled while he sprawled again on the mat.
“Nice try,” I said, making sure to swing my hips as I sauntered back to my starting position.
He growled and got to his feet, spitting blood onto the mat.
Mine… my mind whispered.
I flashed toward him before I knew what I was doing and tackled him to the mat once more. Slowly, I licked the blood from his lips. Delicious, salty and masculine. More, a voice whispered. Wait, what? Forcing myself back to the moment, I lifted my hips from his to stand and snarked to cover my reaction, “Don’t be wasteful.”
Turning away, I replaced my staff in the rack. “What’s next?” I queried, trying as hard as I could not to blush at my animalistic instinct.
He slowly got up, the evidence of my reaction clear in the tenting of his dress pants. He’d liked it.
I smirked at his predicament, “Hmm?”
He padded over and placed his staff next to mine. His face looked vulnerable as he took in my smaller form from head to toe. “Why did you do that?”
My brows scrunched and I evaded, “What? Drop you? You have a tell, the corner of your right eye tightens when you’re trying to be sneaky.”
He shook his head, knowing full well that I wasn’t answering his question. Changing tactics, he asked, “What else can you do?”
“I’m not really sure. Grappling and fighting with broom handles was the extent of my physical interaction with the other kids at the orphanage.” I paused, remembering the reason I had to learn to fight. My tiny frame marked me as prey to the older boys when the lights went out. I shrugged out of the memory and swallowed the bile rising in the back of my throat.
His face softened while mine soured. He reached out to grab my hand.
I shifted and grasped a steel sword hilt instead, angry at the pity reflected in his eyes.
He dropped his arm and sighed, “Talk to me.”
“No. Let’s try this instead,” I replied hotly, unsheathing the three-foot length and causing the metal to sing. He stepped back out of reach and shook his head as I swung the sword in an arc to feel its weight.
“I want to train you Viv, I do,” he paused, searching for the right words, “but not like this.” He turned away and padded toward the bench where he’d left his clothes.
“Fine, fucking leave then,” I yelled after him. “I don’t owe you anything.”
In a flash of movement, he was gone.
I berated myself for a good hour after that. He’d tried to be nice and I’d let my old hurts shut him out. I swung effortlessly from the ropes above the catwalk, daring myself to take needless risks to escape my self-pity.
Evidently, I took one too many risks. I swung out, releasing the rope in my hand and tried to grasp the second rope instead of the easy one within reach. I gasped as it slid through the tips of my outstretched fingers. I fell 25 feet to the floor below and tried to roll with the impact. Craaack! My right forearm snapped and echoed in my ears before the pain could register.
Mother Fucker! I cradled my injured arm against my belly as I tried to rock up to stand. Tears streamed down my face and I shook my head. Stupid, stupid! I knew better! What the hell was wrong with me?
My feet stomped on the floor in anger for two steps before I whimpered when the tantrum jostled my arm.
Slowly, I breathed, resolving to suffer in silence. I exited the gym and walked through the barracks. How the fuck was I going to get down the ladder? It had to be dawn by now. I slid to the floor by the metal tube, trying to figure out a plan when I heard movement from below.
Black hair poked out of the tube first, followed by the sound of steps reverberating on the rebar rungs. Striking blue eyes pierced mine and a male head came fully into view. Wiry shoulders and a narrow waist made an appearance next as he stepped out of the tube.
I waved the fingers of my unbroken arm and tried for a smile, “Hi.”
He took a knee and inspected my tucked arm. Blood trickled down my elbow as his eyes widened at the sight of the exposed bones.
I quipped, hiding behind my snark, “I’m Viv, and you are?” My brows rose in question.
“Mason,” he tipped his head. “I lead the Protectors.” His brows drew low in concern, “Can I help you back to your room? It’s daylight, so we’ll have to use the tunnel.”
I sighed in relief, “Pleased to meet you, Mason. Yes, that would be splendid.”
Mason stood and climbed down 3 steps and gestured for me to place myself in front of him. I did as he requested, leaning against his hard frame as my bare feet found each rung of rebar. It was slow going, but way better than trying to do it on my own with one hand.
After we reached the chamber below, he scooped me up in his strong arms, careful not to jostle my injury. Effortlessly, he carried me through the tunnel, almost as fast as a Vampire.
Making our way through the house to my room, he paused at the door. My bloodied fingers turned the handle and he shouldered his way inside.
One moment I was secure in his arms, the next I was rudely dropped to the floor. My arm shrieked in pain and caused me to cry out. I gritted my teeth and looked around, trying to figure out what had happened.
Jackson had Mason pinned against the floor, his fangs bared menacingly above his throat.
“Jackson!” I screeched. Flinging out a foot, I kicked him in the face, knocking him from Mason’s submissive form.
I flashed, crouching over to protect my Clutchmate from Jackson. My fangs extended and I hissed in warning.
Jackson rocked back on his butt, a curious expression on his face as his teeth retracted. Clearing his throat, he took in my bloodied arm and calmly asked, “What’s going on?”
I hissed again, venom forming on the tips of my fangs.
Jackson stood, turned his back to me and padded to the wingback. Slowly, he sat.
After a few moments of stillness with his face shuttered, I relaxed. My fangs clicked back into place. Blood ran down my arm as I cradled it against my chest and it dripped onto Mason’s hip. I glanced down at his face, keeping Jackson in my peripheral vision.
Mason opened his eyes and stared at the door frame. His voice was reedy when he said, “Will there be anything else, Miss Viv?”
Flabbergasted by his formality and nonchalance at what had transpired, I stood and stepped aside, allowing him to get to his feet.
Sucking in a deep breath, I answered his question, “No Mason. It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m soooooorry,” I drew out and threw a glare at Jackson, “that you had to go through that. Thank you for helping me back to,” I paused and raised my voice, “MY ROOM, after I injured myself.”
He nodded and made his retreat as quickly as possible through the door.
I bared my teeth at Jackson.
Splat.
Splat.
Splat.
My blood dribbled from my elbow and hit the black carpet, immediately absorbed by its thick pile.
Jackson stared at me. I rumbled a challenge at him.
Sighing, he lowered his eyes. Slowly, he stood and walked to the mini fridge in the corner. Pulling out a blood bag, he padded toward me and offered it in his outstretched hand. Still looking at the floor, he asked in a soft voice, “Can I look at your arm, please?”
I snatched the bag from his hand with my good arm. Saliva pooled in my mouth as my fangs descended and I pierced the plastic.
Moaning my consent, he gingerly lifted my elbow from my chest. I whimpered as the protruding bones ground together.
“Shh, shh, just a moment. Everything will be fine,” he soothed, guiding me to the bed to lie down. “I’m just going to go next door to get Sora to look.”
He grabbed a pillow with his other hand and gently placed it under my jacked-up arm. I growled, slurping faster as the pain shocked through me.
He move
d toward me in reassurance and I rumbled again in response. Asshole.
“Okay, okay,” he lifted his hands and backed away from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
In a flash, he was gone. The door slowly started to swing closed. Just before the latch clicked, Sora barreled into the room wearing nothing but a silver robe. Blaze and Jackson trailed after her.
Her eyes assessed my injury before she barked, “Leave us!”
Blaze turned on his heel and snagged Jackson’s shoulder while he hesitated by the door. “But,” Jackson began. He didn’t get a chance to finish as Blaze physically lifted him and tossed him into the hall; tugging the door closed behind him as he followed Sora’s orders without a backward glance.
I swallowed the last dregs of the bag and tossed it onto the nightstand. “Hey.”
She snapped, “What the fuck happened?” Sora was livid, her black eyes sparked with silver stars and her fangs descended with a snap.
I raised my good arm to placate her, “Calm down. It was an accident. I hurt myself.” Grudgingly, I added, “Jackson wasn’t even there.”
She growled in frustration, “How?”
My upper lip lifted in disgust, “We were at the training grounds, shit got too heavy and I snapped at him, he left. I felt like an ass so I took it out on my body. I fell from a rope above the catwalk.” I flared my nostrils and gritted my teeth, “Okay, Mom?”
She tutted me and smirked, retracting her fangs. “You are an ass, Vivian.”
My face colored in embarrassment, “You swore you would never use that word!”
She giggled and settled herself on the bed near my injured arm. “I know, but you deserved it.” She paused and her face turned remorseful, “This might hurt, or…”
I waved my hand, “Or?”
Her brow lifted, “Or I could compel you to sleep, then try to fix it.”
My eyes widened, “Try?”
She rolled her eyes, “I have magic, Viv. It’s NEW. Or you can try to set the bone and wait for your Vampire healing to take over while you rest.”
I was already shaking my head, “Nope. No thanks, you set it, you heal it, no compulsion. I’ve had broken bones before.”