Am I okay?
Honestly, I don’t know.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that shadow reaching for me, feel the mark burning like ice in my veins.I hear the creature’s voice whispering my name, promising to make mehis.And underneath all of that is the memory of Vex’s hands on my body, his mouth claiming mine, the way he said I was his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m terrified,” I admit quietly.“But I’m also...angry.I didn’t ask for any of this.I didn’t ask to be marked by some ancient ice demon, didn’t ask to have my life turned upside down, didn’t ask to be attracted to a vampire who thinks touching me might kill me.”
“But youareattracted to him.”
It’s not a question.
“Yeah,” I say.“I am.And that terrifies me almost as much as the Khorvath does.”
Hannah reaches over and squeezes my hand.“Then don’t be terrified.Be pissed.Channel that anger into something useful.”
“Like what?”
“Like learning how to defend yourself.”Her eyes gleam.“Blade’s got Hollywood and Scout setting up a training session this morning.Figured you might want to join.Unless you’d rather sit around and wait for something else to attack.”
The thought of sitting around doing nothing makes my skin crawl.I’ve spent my whole life running from things, hiding, trying to stay small and safe.And where has that gotten me?Marked by a demon and hunted by something that wants to use me as a weapon.
Fuck that.
“I’m in,” I say.
Hannah’s grin is fierce.“That’s my girl.Come on.Let’s get you some real clothes and some breakfast.You’re going to need your energy.”
The training area isbehind the clubhouse, a cleared space with targets set up against hay bales and what looks like a makeshift sparring mat laid out on packed dirt.Hollywood and Scout are already there, along with a few other brothers whose names I’m still trying to remember.
And Vex.
Of course, Vex is there.
He’s leaning against the side of the building, arms crossed, watching me with dark eyes that see everything.He’s changed into a black t-shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders in ways that should be illegal, and his jeans sit low on his hips.He looks dangerous.Predatory.
Mine, something inside me whispers.
I shove that thought down and focus on Hollywood, who’s grinning at me like he knows exactly what I was just thinking.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says.“Ready to learn how not to die?”
“Charming,” I mutter.
“That’s what they tell me.”He gestures to the targets, grinning.“We’re starting with the basics.Gun safety, stance, aim.Scout here is going to show you how to hold a weapon without shooting yourself in the foot.”
Scout steps forward, handing me a handgun.It’s heavier than I expected, cold metal that feels alien in my palm.“Ever held a gun before?”
“Does a water gun count?”
He snorts.“Not even close.Okay, first things first.Trigger discipline.”He demonstrates, finger resting alongside the trigger guard instead of on the trigger itself.“You don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.This isn’t a movie.You fuck this up, someone gets hurt.”
I nod, mimicking his grip.The gun feels awkward, wrong, but I force myself to get used to the weight of it.
“Good,” Scout says.“Now, stance.Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent.You want to be stable but not rigid.Like this.”
He moves into position, and I try to copy him.It feels unnatural, exposed, but when I glance at Hollywood, he nods approvingly.
“Not bad for a first-timer.Now, raise the gun.Both hands.Dominant hand on the grip, support hand underneath.Arms extended but not locked.”
