Learn.
Exploit.
Those three words become my new mantra, playing on repeat in my mind.
Jax circles me slowly, his gaze steady, his sword raised just enough to remind me that he’s ready to strike at any moment.
My eyes follow every small movement of his arms, his shoulders, his feet. He moves with precision, but there’s a rhythm to it, a predictability I failed to notice before. His left shoulder dips slightly whenever he shifts his weight before an attack.
There it is.
I exhale and wait.
He lunges, his blade slicing through the air. I pivot sharply to the right. When he brings his blade down, missing me, I maneuver behind him. He recovers quickly, spinning to face me, but I strike before he’s fully turned.
He holds up his weapon, blocking my attack, but the surprise of it forces him off balance, and he falls backward, slamming to the ground just like I’d done three times before.
His grin grows as he stares up at me.
Panting, I reach for his hand to help him back on his feet, and his eyes spark with something almost feral.
“Where did you learn that move?” he asks, gripping my hand and dragging me slightly forward as he pulls himself up. I stumble but keep my footing.
“I read about it,” I admit, trying to catch my breath without breaking eye contact.
“Read about it?” he asks, and I don’t quite know what to make of his tone.
I shrug. “I read a lot.” I take a moment to wipe the sweat from my hands on my thighs. “Well, at least about things I’m interested in.”
“And swordsmanship, that’s something that interests you?”
Is he serious?
“Absolutely,” I tell him, gripping the handle of my wooden blade and feeling the weight of it. “I mean…just the idea of maybe being able to protect myself someday…Hell yeah, I find that interesting. Although, I never actually believed I’d hold a sword or be capable of wielding one. I still enjoyed learning about it.”
He tilts his head, studying me as always. “A reader and a fighter. That’s a dangerous combination.” He picks up his sword and twirls it between his fingers. “How about we take a step back and go over the basics?”
“Ready when you are.”
He grips the hilt of his sword. Angling his hand back and forth in a way to show me exactly how he’s holding it. I look down at my own hands and try to do the same.
He places his weapon on the ground and moves to stand beside me.
“Like this,” he says, his fingers brushing against mine, rough and warm, as he positions my hands exactly how he wants them. I nod, ignoring my quickening pulse. “Your stance is solid, but your weight is off. Don’t lean too far forward, or you’ll leave yourself exposed.”
He’s behind me, and before I can turn to face him, his hands find my hips, moving me exactly as he instructed. His touch is firm but gentle, and I can feel the heat of him even through my clothes.
“There,” he says, his breath fanning my ear, and I don’t dare move as his sage scent assaults me. “Now, you’re ready.”
He’s back in front of me, picking up his wooden sword and mirroring my stance.
“You going to attack me or not?” His eyes sparkle, and I begin circling him.
He lunges again, his strikes faster this time, but I can tell he’s still not using his full strength. Even so, I struggle to block each advance, but I manage to keep up.
My muscles scream in protest, but I can’t yield, not yet.
He lowers his sword, sweat dripping from his hairline, and I watch him closely, waiting for his next move.
