I don’t have any idea what he actually writes, but he’s a damn good coach. Notices the things I don’t, when I’m too deep into the fight. It’s surprising, considering the fact he’s such a scrawny kid with no fighting abilities, compared to the three of us.
“Since we’re working on your endurance, Ash, you’re up next,” Rowan continues.
Ash steps into the ring, his gaze darting between me and where I was looking.
“Jealous?” Ash huffs, getting in my face immediately.
“What the hell is your deal?” I mutter, narrowing my eyes at him. “It’s not like you’re a fucking saint either. I see the way you look at her when you think no one else is looking.”
“Oh, I know you’re watching. I want all you fuckers to see,” he says, his lips peeling back into a toothy smile.
“You’re crazy,” I growl back at him. “We’re supposed to be working together.”
“Yeah, working together,” he says, throwing a lazy punch that I easily dodge. “Butshe’snot work. And I don’t want to fucking share, but at least I have the guts to admit it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap back, returning his punch with a far more powerful one of my own.
It’s powerful, but it’s sloppy. He’s pissing me off, and he knows it. My gaze keeps darting to Mirabelle’s wide-eyed, innocent expression. She doesn’t know what this tentative truce between us has been doing to us.
We’ve got such a limited time with her. Most of it is spentworking our asses off to make sure we’re strong enough for the fights coming up soon. That makes the not-quite-platonic but not-quite-more-than-that touches and soft-spoken words she gives us not enough to soothe the burning fires in the three of us.
I can see it in the way we spar with each other. In the restless way we do everything.
“Oh, I know plenty,” he grunts before kicking his leg out and taking advantage of my distraction.
Before I know it, all the wind is knocked out of me all over again as I slam back into the mat beneath me.
Ash wastes no time before pinning me down underneath him, forcing me to block the punch aimed for my face. The blow reverberates up and down my forearm, making my wrist and elbow joints a little numb from the impact.
Better that than my face, I guess.
“Damn,” I breathe out, blocking another one of his blows. “You know your shit.”
He pauses at my words for a split second before throwing another punch, but the split second of hesitation gives me enough time to prepare.
I end up grabbing his wrist and pulling, using the momentum to flip us. My forearm presses against his neck, and my heavier weight lands squarely on top of him.
“But I do too,” I say, flashing him a triumphant grin. “Checkmate.”
The lines around his eyes tighten as his lips curl up in a snarl.
“Fuck off,” he grunts. “Why the fuck are you so strong?”
I shrug as I get off of him, leaning back on my hands as I sit on the mats.
The wraps around my hands and knuckles are getting sweaty after all the sparring.
Maybe I could get Mirabelle to change them for me.I’ll take any excuse I can to get her hands on me.
“I think there’s a reason this hellhole of a farm bought me,” I say, rolling my aching shoulders back. “I’m good at what I do. Been doing this for a long time.”
“Oh yeah? How long?”
“Since I was sixteen. I’m twenty-eight now, so twelve years.”
“You’re twenty-eight?” He asks, raising a brow in surprise.
“Yeah, why?”
