by Lea Griffith
“There was a woman in the woods of Arequipa when I arrived with Trident. Grant knew she was there, in fact, did everything he could to protect her from me.”
Arrow took a deep breath. “Is it her?”
Bullet shrugged but in the air hung her sister’s suspicion. Arrow’s mind tried to take her back to the black of a night that changed her entire world. She resisted the past’s tug and rubbed her temple.
“I don’t know if it is her or not. What disturbs me is that Grant protected the woman so whoever she is she has a part in his scheming.”
“I can do nothing until she shows herself. There is too much uncertainty and always the chance we could kill before we know for sure. She deserves more than a nameless death.”
Bullet grunted. “She shoots at me again and it will be a moot point. My bullet will find her brain before another thought enters it.”
Arrow turned to her sister then and hardened herself. “You will not. She is not yours, Bullet.”
“None of you are, but you could be if you harm what is mine.”
“If she tries to take what is yours, she is fair game for us all,” Arrow bit out. “And do not ever threaten me again.”
The words danced in the air between them, gliding to a stop at the point of no return.
Bullet glanced at her and in her sister’s ice-blue eyes was a promise. “I told Rand I would set the world on fire if he were harmed. I have changed, sister. Be sure you know this. My objective remains but he has taken root in my brokenness and something blooms there I never anticipated.”
“We will call on you, Bullet, to do what you promised. We would never hurt you; therefore your Mr. Beckett is protected. The woman has maintained the periphery. Should she come closer, she will put herself between the four of us. Should she attempt us, she will die.”
Bullet nodded and turned away. “Do you remember that night, Arrow? Do you remember her?”
She froze inside, the black rising up with the force of a million mighty arms wrapping around and pulling her down, down, down. She turned her face to the sun, hoping its light would help her fight the memories. It didn’t. Arrow fisted her hands, the prick of her nails in her palms doing nothing to center her.
“I remember everything. It is what I see when I close my eyes, what I smell as I sleep. It is what I hear when it is silent and all that I know when my mind calms. More so even than Ninka’s loss, that night defines my hate.”
“Yes,” Bullet murmured. “It is the same for Blade, I imagine.”
Arrow didn’t answer. Blade was an entity all her own, and as such didn’t require Arrow’s understanding. Logically, the events of that night so long ago helped make them all stronger. At the same time it had given them their greatest weakness.
“Did you hear me?”
Arrow glanced at Bullet, surprised she’d not heard her speaking.
“I’m going to train with the babies now,” she said softly.
Arrow tilted her head and tried to swallow the bitter acid of her remembering. “I will sit here, sister, and watch.”
“Should the waters of your mind calm and death doesn’t stalk, join us. The babies could learn much from you.” Bullet bowed her head gracefully and took off down the incline.
The girls were all small except for one gangly pre-teen who reminded Arrow of herself at that age. The lines of the child’s body were sleek and elegant even in her awkwardness. Arrow could not see the girl’s face, but knew Joseph sought the child because she reminded him in face and form of Arrow.
He would pay for them all. Every hurt he’d visited on them Arrow would make sure he felt over and over before he collapsed to hell.
With her creamy skin, long black hair, and upturned eyes, the girl below could be her biological sister, but the truth was Arrow had been an only child. Her mother dropped her at the temple and fled back to her home across the mountains, probably sighing in relief that the child with the demon-gold eyes was gone from her.
As she watched the child sparring with Bullet, Arrow was reminded of the feel of the land that birthed her. Subtle but deep, it could hug you close in affection or crush you in enmity.
Her muscles loosened as the need to fight shot through her extremities. How long since she sparred with a worthy opponent? The episode with Adam Collins did not count. Beneath her skin muscles began to roil with energy, and it pulsed through her in waves. She needed to fight and sitting here watching the babies train wasn’t doing anything to improve her mood.
She stood slowly and stretched, determined to work out this vicious poison in her veins. Perhaps she should seek Mr. Collins. Perhaps he could help her ease this volatility. After all, he was the main reason she’d been denied in the first place.
•●•
Adam had been hitting the punching bag for what felt like hours and still he’d not found fatigue. Sweat poured off him and his muscles were on fire, but the energy was a live thing under his skin, burning and twisting, demanding to be purged.
The door opened and he kept his head down, punching the bag over and over until he both smelled and felt her. Then he stopped, caught the bag as it swung back toward him, and stood there breathing heavily from his exertion. Long moments passed as he waited.
“What do you want, Saya?”
“No one has ever asked me what I want. As I stand here contemplating, I realize that is probably not a question you should ask someone who has had nothing.”
Her voice was a cold wind across his soul. His body cooled but his mind raged.
“Leave, Saya, or we will engage and that is not best for either of us right now,” he said between clenched teeth.
She laughed and the low sound of it grabbed him by the throat…and balls.
“What is best is not always what is right. I need to fight and you are available, in fact, it seems you ache for it as much as I.”
Fuck yes, he ached. She had no idea. He slowly began to take off his gloves, throwing them to the ground as he turned and faced the woman who dominated his thoughts, pushing Aziveh to the distant past and leaving room for nothing else.
“I want to hate you,” he bit out.
She smiled and his heart froze over. “As you should. Hate is as good of an emotion as love, I would imagine. Both motivate and push for greater action.”
He groaned aloud. “Always you talk. Tell me, Arrow, do you believe what you say?”
“Every word,” she responded softly.
How it happened, he didn’t know, but they circled one another, gazes cataloguing weaknesses, feet shuffling in a dance that would lead them to warfare.
“Do you need to be angry to fight me, Mr. Collins?”
He shook his head. “Though you have that base covered, Saya.”
Her gaze flattened, the molten gold becoming hammered and dull. “You call me by a name I didn’t give you permission to use.”
“I don’t recall asking for permission.” Let her choke on that.
As he’d hoped, twin flags of red dotted her cheeks, clinging to the curves of her face as anger did to the hollows of his heart.
“Would you care to know my given name?” she asked, still circling. A taunting smile curved her bow mouth, and he ached to lick across it even as he hated himself for the desire.
“Names have power.” He threw her comment about Aziveh back in her face.
She cocked her head and went completely still. “Taigāsu ga shinu to sono kawa o nokosu. Hito wa shinu to sono namae o nokosu.”
He stopped as well, relaxing in his space even as his mind prepared to fight. “I still don’t speak Japanese.”
“Tigers die and leave their skins. People die and leave their names.”
He strained to hear her words and when he processed them, chills were left on his skin. “And are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Going to die?”
She smiled again and it was beautiful. “Won’t we all?”
“Some of us more than once,” he responded
as he fisted his hands, trying to crush the need to reach for her.
“Would that were true, Mr. Collins. It would make this life more bearable, I think.”
Silence reigned for long seconds as they stood there, fifteen feet and worlds apart. “What is it?”
Her entire body loosened, arms slackening as she her knees bent slightly. “What is what?”
“Your name.”
“Shall we spar for a boon then?”
It was his turn to smile. “I thought we were fighting?”
She laughed, and it too was beautiful. “Winner gets a boon of their choosing. It is how my sisters and I have always played this game.”
He had to harden his heart so he started with his voice. “Oh, so now it’s a game?”
Her smile disappeared and he was glad. The sight of it made him want impossible things from this killer.
“It is not a game. Death is never a game.”
His body followed the path of his heart, hardening, blood pounding as his cock rose to her taunt, heart thumping in anticipation. “Yes, let us fight for a boon.”
She bowed her head. A silky hank of hair fell from its place in the bun on her head, sliding against her cheek. The dichotomy of the dark strands against her creamy skin made him draw in a rough breath.
Her gaze missed none of it. She was dressed in black sweat pants and a T-shirt. As he stood there debating how best to approach this fight, she took off the T-shirt, leaving her in a black sports bra and sweat pants. There was a long scar on her lower abdomen. Adam felt rage move through him as he wondered how it’d come to be there.
She slowly pulled off the bandage at her side. The puckered flesh there made him ache inside. Hate and some unmentionable emotion wrapped together tightly, twisting and twining, digging deep until there was no way of telling what he felt anymore. He did know one thing—had she not killed Hunstall, he would have a hundred times over for the damage he’d done to her.
She lowered to her knees. Adam did the same.
“We need rules in this contest, Mr. Collins.”
“There are no rules in battle. First person with three falls loses.”
“Winner gets a boon of their choosing,” she said softly.
Goddamn. He couldn’t put that in her hands. He’d fought her before, knew she was more than capable of kicking his ass if he dropped his guard. What would she ask for? Her gaze sparked. She baited him.
“Agreed.” He would win. There was no other option.
“Then we shall fight, with no rules, winner takes a boon,” she said loudly.
He bowed his head in acceptance.
She hopped to her feet in a single, lithe movement and went into a ready stance. The injury at her side didn’t seem to impact her at all. Her weight balanced on both legs, front leg slightly forward and bent, back leg also bent. Her hands remained at her sides though tension ran through her body now.
He rose to his full height as adrenaline coursed through his system. So slowly he recognized her goading for what it was, she raised her hand and waved him forward. She had done it once before, when they’d fought in the courtyard the night she’d arrived.
Her face blanked and her breathing slowed, nostrils flaring like she was a wild thing drawing in the scent of a predator.
“I have often sought the weakness of my enemies, but I find with you, Mr. Collins, I am loathe to find them,” she said into the quiet. “I am even more reticent to use those weaknesses against you.”
“I have none,” he responded, readying himself.
She closed her eyes and said, “Yes, you do.”
Chapter Sixteen
Adam timed her breaths and waited. On the third inhale he struck with a spinning back fist which she simply moved her upper body away from. Her feet remained where they were and she leaned backward, swinging her torso on her hips, ducking under his punch and once again standing tall.
He feinted and she dodged but never counter-punched. Saya kept her eyes closed, face serene as he struck again and moved away. She deflected each blow he delivered, casually and with little to no effort.
Urgency began to boil in his veins, the need to show her who was dominant a thrumming beat in his mind. She turned in a circle and Adam realized they would engage this way for the entire fight unless he took her to the mats beneath them.
His heart rebelled even as his body swelled and demanded he do just that. Adam was quick, a bit of a gutter-fighter but trained in American Karate and Jiu Jitsu—definitely capable of using it to his advantage.
Where his movements were raw aggression, hers were fluid, evading, and yet before his eyes her muscles began to twitch. He could almost smell her need to punch, hit and kick.
“Fighting,” he grated out, “usually involves two people.”
Her eyes opened and he was stunned. He’d noticed her amber eyes had a queer light when she was in the midst of anger, frustration, or arousal. He cursed, let it flow into the air, and winced afterward. They damn near glowed right now.
He had roused a dragon.
He blinked and she shifted forward, leg rising to deliver a quick front thrust kick to his gut before she took a step back.
His breath left him and she smiled. Surprise was a tactic she used better than anyone he’d ever faced and it was that which took his breath because she hadn’t kicked with full force. More so than even Bullet, Arrow commanded her space. But he’d be damned if he’d stand there and let her steal the breath from him.
Adam moved forward and delivered a straight punch, which she blocked with her forearm as she swung around. She moved so damn fast he didn’t see her fist until it was right at his face. His eyes crossed as her fist nearly touched his nose. She pulled the blow and then shifted away.
“Were we counting points instead of falls, Mr. Collins, your ass would be grass,” she murmured.
He spun backward and delivered his own hook kick, tapping her hip with his toes. She laughed and the sound reverberated through the room.
“I need contact,” she said softly.
He stood tall, raising his hand and mimicking her from moments earlier, waving her forward. “Let’s do this.”
It would be a full-on fight, then. She was the wind and the water, flowing around him so smooth and fast he couldn’t keep track. She punched his shoulder and his right arm went numb. She kicked his thigh and he dropped to a knee.
“One fall,” she exclaimed softly.
Adam pushed to his feet, determination forcing away the temporary numbness in his arm and thigh. She danced too close and he caught her forearm, holding it away from her body as he spun into her, putting his shoulder into her armpit and then judo-throwing her to the mat.
The breath whooshed from her lungs but again that ghostly smile clung to her lips.
“One fall,” he returned.
She spun on her back and was on her feet instantly, arms at her sides, black hair falling around her body. The ebony strands gleamed in the muted lighting of the big room and his hands clenched into fists. Her hair could be a detriment. Granted someone would have to catch her first.
Her eyes flared. His body tightened.
“What are you waiting on?” he asked.
Goddamn it, she smiled again. “Nothing.”
As if a match struck kindling, their furies unleashed. One strike given, one received until the symphony of their movements across the mats rang in his ears and the adrenaline of their battle was a taste on his tongue. His blows landed but without any leverage, because he was constantly in defensive mode.
He tried another straight punch, and she easily changed his direction with a quick block followed by an incredibly short, incredibly hard jab to the area below his ribs. He grunted and fell to a knee again, winded and hurting.
“Two falls,” she whispered at his ear, and he swore he felt her lips there.
He pushed up and closed his eyes, needing to center himself, wondering if he could. She was ungodly fast, her movements a blur most times. The on
ly way he hit her at all was more-than-likely by luck. It pissed Adam off.
He had to throw her off her game but recognized there was no way to do that with this killer who was slowly taking pieces of him away. Would she hoard them or give them back? Would he have to beg or give his life?
It was potent the energy and need running through him. Her smell permeated the air, filling his lungs and making him want. His hands refused to cooperate, refused to push through his punches and deliver a strike that would debilitate.
He hated her. He wanted her. And it was messy, this lust barreling through him now.
“You can always give up,” she taunted.
He snorted and turned to face her. Saya’s body was lithe but her natural curves called to everything male in him. His mouth watered and her gaze zeroed in on his lips. She licked hers and the groan that escaped his chest surprised him.
“When it’s something I really, really want, Saya, I never give up.”
She nodded at him. He approached her slowly, keeping the length of her leg between them.
“I will win,” she said clearly, and the husky tones of her voice stirred his soul. Ancient.
He punched and she deflected, he feinted and she ducked. It was a battle of wills. Punch, deflect, slice, and defend. Adam let his gaze go unfocused. She battled him as if he were that fucking Wing Chun dummy. Her punches landed and he realized he’d bruise from this. But she never moved away, just countered and blocked, attacked and repelled.
Finally, he had her strikes timed. A small part of his mind realized she played with him and was probably pulling her punches. Had this been real combat, she would already have his balls through his nose. That she’d stood in front of him and done what amounted to playing patty-cake with him gave him a hope of sorts. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to beg.
Between one strike and the next he pushed through her guard, grabbed her around the neck, interlocked his hands and pulled her head down while at the same time sweeping with his leg and taking hers out from under her.
She fell to her stomach though her hands caught her.
He followed her down and whispered in her ear this time. “Two falls, Saya.”