Robin: Blood
The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly as I raise my practice sword, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. My ribs ache from the fight, my shoulder throbs where the creature threw me to the ground, and the lack of sleep from last night isn’t helping. Worth it, though. Every second with Marco was worth it.
It’s a rare day where we’re training on the arena sand, and Cas is circling me. He feints left, then strikes right, and I’m too sluggish to block properly. The wooden blade cracks against my already bruised ribs.
“Fuck,” I gasp, stumbling backward.
“Come on, Robin,” Cas says, not unkindly. “I know you’re knackered, but you’ve got to do better than that.”
I can still smell Marco on my hair—soap and sweat and something that makes me desperate to rewind time, to be back in his bed again.
Cas comes at me, and this time I barely get my sword up in time. The impact rattles through my bones.
“Right,” Cas announces suddenly, lowering his weapon. “I’ve got to take a piss.”
He flounces off toward the bathroom, probably giving me a break more than anything. I reach for my water bottle, grateful for the reprieve.
“Robin!”
I freeze. Jason steps toward me, practice sword in hand, that familiar smirk playing at his lips.
My gaze darts to Marco across the yard. He’s watching us, but makes no move to intervene. Usually, he keeps Jason and me miles apart.
“Oh, come on now,birdie,” Jason says, poisoning Marco’s endearment with his tongue. “I think you can manage five minutes with me without Daddy intervening.”
I grip my sword tighter, wariness flooding my system. “What do you want, Jason?”
“Congratulations,” he says casually, raising his blade.
I circle him slowly, muscles coiled. “For what?”
He lunges, but oddly holds his strength back, clearly seeking conversation more than combat. “On your new sponsor.”
“What?”
“I heard through the grapevine this morning that Vincent Crane is dropping me.” Jason’s voice is conversational, almost pleasant, which sets every nerve on edge.
“Who?”
“He’s been my biggest sponsor since I got here,” Jason continues, blocking my halfhearted strike. “But now he’s yours, after Marco’s and your performance the other day.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize. Not because I feel sorry for him, but because he’s being so polite about it.A trap.
“I’m sure you have others,” I manage.
Across the sand, Marco is now fully glowering at us, jaw tight.
Jason nods. “Of course I do.”
“Mind if I cut in?”
Cas clears his throat behind me, smiling at Jason, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. As if we’re dancing, Jason offers me up with a flourish and steps aside.
“That was weird,” I tell Cas once Jason’s out of earshot.
“What did the prick want?”
I fill him in quickly, keeping my voice low. Cas’s expression grows thoughtful.
