He sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Are you brave or just stupid?”
“Impulsive and reckless.”
My mind threw a memory at me as I said it, a day in the field with my squad, when I’d been deployed far too soon after recovering from the flu. I’d known I was too weak for the mission, but stubbornness compelled me anyway. We were nearly caught by a Hunter patrol, and I fell behind as we ran for cover.
Tekqua was the only reason I lived that day. She covered me while I was too breathless to speak, resting my hands on my knees. She’d let someone braid her hair into badass zigzagging plaits that hugged her scalp, and wore a tight black turtleneck and tactical pants. Armed, straight-backed and strong, she was the very picture of a Defiant.
And I couldn’t even stand upright.
It was the first time the notion had drifted through my brain that while Tekqua Madden had grown into a competent soldier, I didn’twantto be good at it.
And I never would be. Not even with this predator’s training.
In Lucas’s endless silence, I murmured, “They’re not ideal traits in times like these.”
He did nothing but watch me, and the fabric of my scrubs strained in my fist until he turned toward a hallway leading to the back of the house. “Fine. Let’s see if I can train them out of you.”
My breath released, and I followed, trying and failing to decipher the title of the book he’d been reading. Was he a novel sort of guy? A history buff? What books did Lucas Scott the psychopath read in his spare time?
The mystery boggled the mind.
We wound up in a room near the back of the house—a dark, empty bedroom with an expanse of cushy gray carpet compressed in places by the furniture that used to be there.
He toed off his shoes, and I did the same.
With his expression hidden in the darkness, the deep resonance of his voice vibrated through my spine. “You ready?”
“No.”
He slammed into my shoulders hard. It knocked me backward, and we fell. His leg pinned one of my arms, and his hands were free to choke me. They slipped around my neck, but as soon as he had the position, he let go.
“Wow.” He ran his hands through his wavy hair. “You’re terrible.”
“I am not!”
“You didn’t even move. You just stood there and let me maul you.”
I scowled and rose to my feet, resetting my position as he did the same. “You surprised me.”
“Attacks don’t come on a schedule.” Before the words had left his mouth, he pummeled me again. I threw one foot back to brace the blow. When I lifted my arms to fend him off, he pressed his hand to my face. My head jerked to the side. I stumbled. He grabbed my curls and shoved me face-first against the wall, his body molded to my back. “It would bethateasy, Sophia. Even if you don’t fight back, you have to know how to get away.”
He retreated, and we did it again.
And again.
Once he learned my skill level, he slowed and showed me techniques to evade him. It worked fine in slow motion, but when he put in some effort—any effort at all—I found myself disadvantaged and helpless beneath him.
But what did he expect?
He was a ranking officer in an army created solely to commit human atrocities. I would never be like him.
After an hour, he stared at me with those extraordinary eyes, their color finally visible now that I’d adjusted to the low light. “This is worse than I thought. You resort immediately to fear and panic.”
Still breathing hard, I swiped a hand over my sweaty brow. “That’s a normal reaction to being attacked by someone likeyou,” I snapped. “How did you even learn all this?”
His head cocked as if that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “I’ve fought in a war for the last three years. What the fuck have you been doing?”
I sent him a death glare. “Not all of us can be cold-blooded killers.”
