His assault is brutal. His blows are like battering rams. He’s faster than anyone I’ve ever fought, and he isn’t even slightly slowing down. He chases me entirely across the sparring square, backing me up against the shelves.
“Yourlegs. If your legs are compromised, you cannot keep seated, no matter how Anassa compensates.”
My chest is heaving. Sweat streaks down my face. And something…shiftsin the corner of my eye. A strange energy streaks over my spine. A few of the books on his shelf, wedged far back in the shadows, old and faded but…
“—primary… Cooper!” he barks.
“What?” I say, head snapping back towards him.
“What is a Siphon’s primary weakness?” he practically snarls.
“It’s…” My eyes drift again, pulled back to that shadowy shelf.
Then I sense him moving towards me, and I react as quickly as I can. He launches forward and ducks low under my responding swing, bracing his foot and bringing his fist up towards my chin. I arch my back, yanking my head back just in time, then kick my leg towards his side.
But he literallycatchesmy ankle and uses his mass to knock me off balance.
His muscles bunch, his grip tightens, and he swings me into a shelf. My shoulder erupts in pain, but I don’t have time to process it before he traps my leg between our bodies and pushes me against the shelf so hard that the wood digs into my spine.
I try to leverage my elbow, but he catches my wrist and pins it to my shoulder, his forearm pressed to my throat again.
Resisting, I try to break free from this hold, but I can’t manage anything more than a pathetic, writhing rebellion.
And I’m extremely aware of all the points his body is touching mine. His hand on my ankle, my leg raised between us, his hips grinding against my own. His arm burning against my neck, the clasp of his fingers on my wrist. His scent fogging my mind.
I fall still, chest heaving, jaw clenched.
“You’re distracted,” he growls, the rumble of his voice passing deep into my body.
I’ll fucking say. Clearly, it’s been too many nights without Killian. I need to get over this privacy stuff with Anassa and start scratching this itch again—directing my sexual frustration at the right person.
Blood leaks from my split lip as I take a deep breath. His eyes dart down as it reaches my chin. His brows twitch together slightly.
I shake my head. “There’s too much to learn. I need a plan.”
He releases me. Air rushes from my lungs. I’m suddenly cold. Unmoored. I grip the edge of a shelf to steady myself, disoriented by the way my pulse is throbbing.
“You’re finally thinking like an Alpha,” he says, a touch of approval in his voice.
He jerks his chin, ordering me to follow without a word as he disappears between a couple of shelves. I wipe the blood from my chin and rub my throat, following him.
Stark stands over a desk that’s been tucked away behind the shelves. His gaze follows me as I approach. When I reach his side, he slides a piece of paper towards me across the desk’s glossy surface.
“Write down what you need to improve upon. Everything.”
I perch my hand on my hip and frown. “You mean I should tell you all my weaknesses?”
He laughs.Stark, laughing. He rasps his hand over his stubble, eyes warming slightly, and that deep but barely there sound of amusement emanates from his chest.
“Maybe you do listen to everything you’re told.”
My muscles feel shaky. “See? I’m a star pupil.”
He leans his hip against the desk. “You can choose to hold back, but you’ll fail. And you’ll die.” My hand tightens into a fist. A lesson or a threat? His jaw twitches, and he steps closer to me. “I’m your only way through this.”
“I’m meant to trust you, then,” I breathe.
When he’s done nothing but try to break my will from the moment we met.
