“Why?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell her why. I didn’t want her to think less of me.
“Arthur, why?”
Maeve sensed my hesitation through my sword and used it to push my weapon aside, exactly the way I’d shown her. She slid in close. My sword hung uselessly out to the left and her face drew up against my chest, her breath hot against my neck.
Girls who smell nice and swing swords and don’t back down from a challenge and manage to beat me weredefinitelymy one weakness.
“I don’t know what to do from here,” Maeve said, her voice breathy. “But I think I got past your guard.”
Her sweet scent invaded my nostrils, spinning around my head, making my senses all wobbly. The only thing that was working was my cock and it pressed painfully against my thigh, desperate for escape. I gulped.
“Yeah, you did. Good work.”
The fire licked at my veins, that all-too-familiar pull drawing me closer. Maeve’s dark eyes widened, and she wet her lips. Her face poised inches from mine. My chest burned.
Kiss me, dammit. I want you so bad, and it’s more than just the coven’s magic talking. You’re a wonder, Maeve Moore?—
Maeve tore herself from my arms and drew back, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. I felt her absence as a pain in my chest, a longing to be close to her.
“This isn’t teaching me how to fight,” she declared, her chest heaving. “I want to try that move again.”
I did another subtle re-adjustment of my trousers. We backed up to our places. Maeve pointed her sword to the sky, her hands tight into her shoulder, the way I’d shown her. I came at her with a huge swing and a bellow. You should always make a lot of noise when training someone to fight, especially if they’re someone who hasn’t fought before, because real fightsare noisy. It teaches them to be aware of more than one sense. I learned from an old martial arts instructor that when women are attacked, they usually go completely silent, which isn’t ideal because making noise may alert someone that you’re in trouble.
Maeve swung the sword down to meet mine, blocking my blow and waving the tip dangerously close to my face. We practiced it again and again, and I was chuffed at how well she was doing.
We switched sides, and Maeve attacked me. Other beginners I fought with – back at the medieval club and my earlier martial arts classes – who would go so softly that it was hard to defend their half-hearted blows. But not Maeve – she threw her whole weight behind every swing. She was so committed that she leaned too far forward into her next blow, so when my sword came down I accidentally slapped her across the cheek.
“Ow!” She staggered back, clutching her face.
I dropped my sword and ran to her, gathering her in my arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Did I hurt you badly? Is it bleeding?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine…” But when I tugged her hand away, I could see an ugly welt forming on her cheek. A stream of tears rolled down her cheeks. My stomach churned.
I did this to her. I hurt her.
This was what I did. I lost control and hurt people. The familiar burning in my chest rose up, like an enormous black bubble desperate to be free. Only instead of wind it would unleash the fury I kept locked away inside. Panic clouded my vision as I shoved it back down.
This is why I haven’t had a girl since I came to Briarwood. This is why I only train by myself. This is why I would be the absoluteworstchoice for Maeve. How can I help her learn to tame her powers if I haven’t even tamed my own?
“I’m sorry,” my voice cracked. “We’ll stop now. This was a stupid idea. I don’t want to hurt.”
Maeve laughed, wiping her face. “No, these tears aren’t because of you. Seriously, Arthur, this barely hurts.”
“It looks bad. We should get you inside.”
“No,listen. I was thinking about my parents, about how they always wanted me to be athletic. Everyone in Arizona plays sports. My Dad was high school quarterback. Kelly was on the cheerleading squad. Mom played on a church baseball team. But I refused. I was hopeless in gym class – I can calculate the circumference of a sphere but I can’t catch one for bollocks.”
“Nice use of bollocks.” I wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re a fast learner.”
“Hey, languages are a lot like physics – once you learn the rules it’s just a matter of getting the nuances right. I haven’t quite mastered the nuances of shagging and shagged and shagging around, but I’ll get there.”
“Wait until you learn about bollocks vs the dogs bollocks. But you were saying about your parents?”
She sniffed. “Just that they were always on at me to do something physical. My Dad would say, ‘Chess club is not a sport, Maeve.’ And now here I am, learning how to fight with swords like a real medieval knight, and they would have hated it but also been proud at the same time, and I just…” she wiped her face again. Her whole body crumpled against me.
“Hey,” I stroked her hair, trying to ignore the beautiful sweet smell that rose off her or the way her body fitted so perfectly against mine. “It’s okay to cry.”
