Charade (18 page)

Gemma stepped into my sight, blocking the sky. Her dark ponytail cascaded over one shoulder and she smirked. “This is no place for confidence.”

Clearly. Nothing like getting knocked over by a girl to ruin a man’s mojo.

“You held back, that day by the lake,” I said, thinking back to the day she pulled out that amulet and we fought. She hadn’t moved that fast then.

“You weren’t exactly in top form, and since Heven all but drowned, I figured beating up her one and only wasn’t really appropriate.”

“You can’t beat me up,” I said annoyed, jumping up from the ground and turning to face her. Just how weak did she think I was?

She tilted her head to the side. “Maybe not. But you could definitely use some improvement. You need to learn to fight as you are now, not just as a hellhound.”

“I’m here. Are we gonna do this or stand around and talk?”

She walked over to the bag that lay beneath the tree. She was dressed in tight blue jeans and brown leather boots that reached her knees. Her white T-shirt was snug and she was strapped with weapons, the most interesting being a dagger that was strapped to the outside of her thigh. She moved with ease and grace. Clearly, she was comfortable in her body. Her dark brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail that swung when she walked. She was a beautiful woman.

I preferred blondes.

Gemma dumped out the bag and I laughed. Weapons of every kind littered the grass. Daggers, knives, a sword, some ancient-looking things I had no clue as to what they were and even a bow and arrow.

“Pick your poison.”

I reached down and snagged a dagger. It was all steel and gleamed in the sunlight. I liked the weight of it in my hand.

“Good choice,” Gemma said, pleased. “Although, I think we better get in the basics before we move on to weapons.”

“Seriously? Why would you show me a bag of toys, then tell me I couldn’t play with them?”

She grinned, enjoying my annoyance. “Just giving you something to work toward. First, you have to prove to me that you are strong enough to play with the big-boy toys.” She patted my cheek as she spoke.

I slapped at her hand. “I passed the big-boy test a long time ago.”

Gemma smiled. “Prove it.”

I shrugged and tossed the weapon back with the others. “Let’s do this.”

“It’s important you learn to fight in your human form, without weapons, because you never know when a threat might present itself. You won’t always have the freedom to shift, to pull out a weapon – so you need to become your own weapon.”

I nodded. What she said made sense. I wanted to be as strong as humanly possible in both my forms. I had to protect Heven. I had to protect Logan and this was the best way to do it.

“I think the best way to learn is through actual fighting,” Gemma said, walking a few steps away. “Are you ready?”

I smiled.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she said and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t hold back because I’m a girl. I might be a girl, but I will kick your ass.”

I laughed and as I did she charged. She was fast, impossibly fast, and part of my brain wondered if it was because she was a fallen angel. The other half of my brain was busy anticipating her moves, calculating what she was going to do before she did it.

I managed to throw off her first hit, but didn’t expect her to practically snap back and come at me with a well-formed kick. She sent me sailing into a tree, a branch snapping when I hit it. I picked up the branch and launched it at her and she barely moved in time. I charged her, feeling the familiar quiver in my body–the need to change. It pounded through my blood—begging to be released.

“Don’t do it,” Gemma called. “Shift your focus. Use that desire to shift and put it toward your fight.”

It was harder than it seemed. To deny your body something that came so naturally was nearly impossible, but I held onto my human form and the force of the effort took away my concentration and she headed off what I meant to be a solid hit and sent me flying backward into the tree again.

I jumped up with a loud roar, and instead of heading for her head on, I changed my strategy. I ran off to her right, away from her in a wide arc, cutting back toward her at the last possible second. Then I jumped up and caught a low hanging branch and swung myself up and around, sending myself at her feet first. I hit her in the shoulder and she fell. I took advantage of her moment of vulnerability to grab her legs and flip her over so that her face was in the dirt. I shoved my knee into the center of her back, my fingers pinning her shoulder down.

“He learns fast,” Gemma said.

“Hope you like dirt, you’re going to be eating a lot of it today.” She did some kind of maneuver that I had never seen and I ended up on my back, once again staring up at the cloudless sky. A dagger came crashing down inches from my skull. I reached for the dagger, but she kneed me between the legs—just beneath the place that would have had me crying, but I reacted instantly, curling my body up to shield myself.

“I never took you for a girl to land a low blow,” I said, my voice slightly strained.

“No one touches my dagger but me.”

I made a rude noise and jumped up.

“You’re not tired yet, are you?” she taunted.

I answered by charging her and landing a series of punches and kicks. She laughed as she deflected the final blow. The fighting/training went on for a long time, until I thought my body would drop, but somehow, I found the energy to keep going. She never once treated me like I couldn’t do it. When I started dragging, she would say something to make me mad or indignant, and I discovered that I could push further than I realized. I was stronger than even I knew.

Turns out I was lousy with a bow and arrow, so-so with a knife and lethal with a dagger.

Gemma was good at all three. It made me try harder.

Finally, we called a truce long enough for me to gulp down an entire jug of water. I’d long since shed my shirt and the sun was hot against my back. I ran my hands through my sweat-soaked hair and took a deep breath. Gemma was standing a few feet away, drinking water of her own. I walked over and she eyed me warily—waiting for me to dish out a hit.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, curious.

“I told you, I want to help.”

“But why do you care?” She didn’t strike me as the kind to get involved with anyone, especially people she hardly knew.

She avoided my stare as she capped her water jug and sat it on the ground. “I might be a fallen angel, but that doesn’t make me a bad person. I saw what was going on around here. I didn’t like it. You two got a bad deal and I was tired of watching you both fight so hard.”

“You think we are going to lose? You think that one day I’m not going to be strong enough and we’re both going to die.”

“It’s happened before.”

“To people you know?”

“I don’t know anyone. Not anymore.”

I stuck out my hand. “I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.” She looked at my hand then back up at me. I grinned. “Figured if I was going to keep kicking your butt, we should at least be properly introduced. I want you to
know
where your butt kicking is coming from.”

She rolled her eyes but then she put her hand in mine and shook. “Gemma,” she murmured.

Then she yanked and I was sailing through the air again, taking out yet another one of the tree limbs. For a moment I laid there, marveling in the fact that just being a hellhound made my human form stronger… if I were only a human, I would probably be dead.

The sound of running feet caught my attention and I looked to my left and saw Heven running through the orchard toward us. I jumped up and turned to face her.

Gemma took that moment to strike out again. She was ruthless! Heven was yelling as I face-planted. I rolled onto my back and sat up. Gemma came to my side. “Never let your guard down.”

I grunted.

Heven stopped just feet away from us, placing her hands on her hips. Her hair was windblown from her running and her cheeks were flushed. “Are you two still fighting?”

“Training,” I corrected.

“Aren’t you exhausted?”

Actually, I was, but I wouldn’t admit it. I was going to be sore tomorrow.

“We’re done here,” Gemma said, getting to her feet. “You did a good job.”

I stood and swept Heven up in my arms, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. She squealed and pounded me on the shoulder. “You smell and you’re all sweaty. Put me down!”

I made sure to run my sweaty forehead against her cheek and she laughed. “You are so gross.”

I laughed and sat her down. Gemma began gathering weapons and tossing them in the bag and I helped her.

Heven’s eyes widened. “Did you use all this stuff?”

“Some of it.”

“So when are you going to teach me how to fight?” Heven asked Gemma who stopped picking up weapons to look at her.

“You really want to know how?” she asked.

“I really do,” she said. “You probably don’t know what it feels like to be weak.”

Something passed over Gemma’s face, but then it was gone. She looked down at Heven and I could almost see her giving in.

“She can’t train you and me at the same time,” I said, interrupting the conversation. It wasn’t that I wanted Heven to be unprotected, to not know how to defend herself, but I didn’t want her to get hurt and Gemma was not the person to be training her. Heven wasn’t strong enough for the kind of fighting Gemma did, which was so far advanced that Heven would only get hurt and frustrated. Besides, we were leaving for Italy in a few days and we didn’t have time for this.

My comment was enough to break whatever Gemma was thinking. “He’s right. You’re not ready.”

Heven growled in frustration. “Why does everyone want to treat me like I’m weak and helpless? I’m not.”

“No one said you were weak and helpless, Hev.”

Heven turned her back and began picking up more weapons. I was about to give in, to offer to train her myself when Gemma launched herself at me, thinking to catch me off guard.

This time I was ready.

I sent her flying backward and she grabbed the nearest weapon, a knife and threw it at me. I caught it before it buried itself in my chest.

“Nice,” Gemma said.

“Are you two crazy!?” Heven yelled. “What if he hadn’t caught that?”

“He did.” Gemma said, shrugging.

Heven opened her mouth to say more when another voice called out. “What the hell is going on here?”

All three of us whipped around to see Cole striding forward between rows of budding fruit trees. I was surprised to realize that I didn’t hate him as much as usual. Knowing that he was Heven’s brother softened some of the anger I had toward him. At least this way, I wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to kiss her again. On the other hand, there was no getting rid of him now. He was family, a permanent fixture in her life. I knew how important family was—especially brothers, so I had to figure out a way to get along with him.

“You came back!” Heven exclaimed, running to him. She hesitated for a few seconds when she reached him—not sure if she would be accepted by him. Is that how Logan felt when he first got here? Had he been afraid I wouldn’t take him in?

Cole opened up his arms and pulled Heven in for a hug. I still didn’t like when he touched her. “I told you I would,” he told her. “What’s going on out here?” Cole asked again, pulling away from Heven.

She pretended not to hear him ask. “Want to go to the house and see Gran?”

“I already saw her.”

“Oh.”

Cole stepped away to toe the now half-empty bag of weapons on the ground.

“Who’s this?” Gemma asked, appearing beside me.

“This is my friend Cole we told you about,” Heven responded, probably afraid of what I would say.

“
This
is Cole?” Gemma’s wide gray eyes appraised him.

Cole took notice and stood a little taller, turning toward us. His blue eyes narrowed on Gemma. “Who are you?”

“Cole, this is Gemma. She’s a friend of ours,” Heven said.

He took in her snug, curve-hugging outfit and knee-high brown leather boots. He noted how every inch of her was strapped with some sort of weapon and his eyes settled on her hand, which was clutching a bow.

Cole reached over and tugged an arrow out of a tree. “I think you lost something.”

Was he fighting a smile?

“Nope. I put it there,” Gemma retorted.

Cole’s lips lifted.

I stepped between the pair to tell Cole, “You should go back to the house.” He’d already seen way too much.

Cole’s eyes hardened when he looked at me, taking in my missing shirt, various scrapes and bruises and my grass-stained jeans. “What have you got my sister involved in?”

Beside him Heven beamed because Cole acknowledged her as his sister.

“Sister?” Gemma said, sharply.

Heven turned toward her. “We just found out that Cole and I have the same father.”

“That would explain it.” Gemma nodded.

“Explain what?” Cole asked. All three of us looked at Gemma.

She shook her head and muttered. “Mortals.”

“What?” Cole asked.

Gemma turned toward Heven. “Isn’t his aura different than everyone else’s?”

“Yeah,” she answered, her eyes widening.

“Aura? What is she talking about, Hev?” Cole was becoming alarmed. Great, the guy was probably going to start asking a million questions.

Heven didn’t seem to notice and kept talking to Gemma. “It always has a huge balloon of magenta. Pink and purple swirled together. No one else I’ve met has that color permanently; it’s only in short bursts and the color rarely mixes together.”

“Somebody better start explaining.” Cole said and grabbed Heven’s wrist.

Something in me snapped. He might be her brother, but he needed to keep his hands to himself. I yanked him away and we went rolling in the grass. Cole landed a solid punch to my jaw and Heven called out. We ignored her and continued fighting. I had been wanting to hammer this guy for months now. I tossed him off me, enjoying the sickening thud his body made when it hit the ground, and then I pounced on him, landing a punch to his jaw.

“Sam! Stop it!” Heven yelled. Her fear slammed into me and it drew me up short. Pummeling her brother in front of her wasn’t a good idea.