What the fuck is he telling him?
Cas’s fist clips my shoulder. First hit to him.
“Oi. Stay focused.”
“I am focused.” But I’m not. I’m thinking about how I let my guard down with Marco. How I trusted him in this place where trust gets you killed.
Should have known better. Should have seen it coming.
Cas follows my stare across the clearing. His face hardens. “No point looking over there.”
“Huh?”
“Staring at Elijah like that.”
Right. Elijah. I nod and circle back into position, but my stomach churns.
“What’s going on with you?” Cas asks, raising his fists again.
“What do you mean? Have you forgotten that you’re up tomorrow for the first match, followed by me next week? Sorry if I’m not my usual sunny self.” It’s a joke. I’m never sunny. Not here.
“Yeah, so it’s crunch time. Time to train harder than ever.”
He lunges. I sidestep, land a solid hit to his ribs. One for me.
“I am training.”
“Then stop staring over there.”
I wasn’t staring atElijah. Not really. But now I can’t stop thinking about him. All those mornings and evenings. Meals, card games. We had a really nice conversation once, where I couldn’t believe he’s never seen the ocean. We often end up next to each other when we run—we’re a pretty good match for pace and distance.
Pretty good match.
If we’re talking brute strength, who’s stronger? Me, probably. Slightly. But he’s got an inch on me, maybe two. And that reach advantage in close combat—
Cas’s knuckles connect with my jaw. Light, but pointed. Second hit to him.
“Goodthing it’s not me versus you, eh?” he says. “Else I’d have your ass for breakfast.”
He laughs, but it’s hollow. We’re both relieved beyond measure that the fixtures haven’t pitted us against each other—yet.
“Speaking of ass…” he says, and I immediately tense. “What was Marco doing with you in the showers the other day? Teaching you proper washing techniques? Getting into all your grooves and… cracks?”
I glare at him, praying that my cheeks aren’t coloring. “Shut it. And I hope you didn’t go tattle to the others like a gossiping old woman.”
“Course I didn’t.” He grins, pretends to lock his mouth with his fingers. “But look, as fine as that ass is—and itisa pretty fine ass…” Cas’s eyes glide over to Marco. His eyebrows wiggle suggestively, and I clench my fists. “I’m not convinced it’s a terribly good idea.”
“Nothing is going on,” I say, putting as much conviction as I can behind it. Because if Marco thinks he can treat me like dirt for five days straight and still get his dick sucked, he’s got another thing coming. “He’s a bastard.”
Cas chuckles. “Is he now?”
We both pause for a second to glance over at him. Luckily, he’s facing the other direction.
Even from behind, he’s magnificent.
Especiallyfrom behind.
“That ass, though,” Cas whispers, and I push him so hard he lands flat on his own butt.
