Dark Desires After Dusk (Immortals After Dark #6)(52)

Another rasp of his chin over her ear. Did he know it was driving her crazy? Oh, of course he did!

“They say every sword has its perfect scabbard.”

She refused to allow him to make even sword fighting sexual. “I’m going to double check everything you’re saying.”

“Be my guest.”

“So you read Julius Caesar?”

“In the original Latin, Holls. Do you like me better now that you know I can read ancient languages?”

“I would have been impressed with proof that you can read at all.”

“Sharp-tongued Valkyrie. Now here’s your fighting stance. Feet shoulder-width apart.” He tapped her ankle with his own to get her to step her foot out more.

“Should I stay on my toes?”

“Good question. Normally, no. To withstand hits, you have to keep your balance—which is more easily done on flat feet. You’d be amazed at how hard another sword can come down—it’ll throw you. And to give hard strikes, again, you need both feet firmly on the ground. That said, the Valkyrie fighting style is different than most.”

“How?”

“They rely on speed. They can get behind you before you even have time to turn your head. Their swords are usually smaller, rapier-like, made more for thrusting jabs than for striking. If one were to fight me, she’d try to prevent my sword from hitting hers at all. They most often kill with a blow to the back.”

“That doesn’t seem very sporting.” It went against everything she’d been taught—or, at least, that she’d learned from westerns and movies with galactic honor systems.

“Sword fighting in the Lore isn’t sporting. It’s about keeping your head on your shoulders. Okay, now chest up.” He placed his palm on her shoulder and pulled back. “Raise the sword in front of your nose and let the tip drop to about forty-five degrees from your face. This is called the middle position. From here you can block blows from the right or the left. Now let’s modify this a little.” He maneuvered her body so that she was standing with her shoulder in front.

He kept touching her, but she couldn’t pinpoint an instance where it was unwarranted.

“If you turn to the side like this, it reduces the visible area of your body, making you a smaller target.”

“Are you going to use your stolen broom handle, or not?”

He raised his brows. “You think you’re ready to cross swords? Very well.”

When he released her to collect the stick, she nearly swayed and was glad he didn’t see.

Facing her again, he said, “I’m going to strike, and I want you to block.” Raising the stick, he knocked it against the sword, and they began to spar.

As they circled each other, he continued his instruction. “Never hesitate. Never appear nervous. Elbows at your side. Keep compact.”

His hits were slow enough that she could block them each time. “Avoid multiple combatants. Like in hand-to-hand, don’t be ashamed to run if you’re outnumbered.”

As they increased in speed, adrenaline began to pump through her.

“Throughout history most sword fights have been decided with the first blow. Not like on TV. Every movement counts.”

He was striking faster and faster, but she was still able to parry.

“No, no, no, you could have evaded that strike,” he said, just when she’d thought she’d given a particularly good block. “Never block when you can evade. And remember, your surroundings are key. Always keep them in mind. Anything can be a weapon.” He tossed a pillow at her, and she sliced it cleanly in two! Tufts of filler floated in the air—

He smacked her bottom hard with his stick. Which infuriated her.

“Don’t like gettin’ spanked? Then keep your eyes on your opponent.”

Aggression flared, and she struck out with a yell. He shot out of the way, and the sword cleaved through the bed side table and phone.

*

Holly’s eyes went wide. “Cadeon! I could have killed you! I’m sorry!” When he shrugged, she said, “You don’t think this is noteworthy?”

“No. Slaying furniture is fun. I’m more concerned about the fact that we’re sparring, and you’re stopping to apologize. Where’s the heart of the killer? Where’s your merciless side? You’re acting like a skirt.”

“A . . . skirt?” she said in an incredulous tone.

“Hey, here’s an idea. If you can draw blood before my premium pay-per-view show comes on in ten minutes, then I’ll get you your pills.”

She gave him a look that said it’s on, then launched an attack. He deflected her next blow, but realized that she’d held back so she could strike a second time even faster. Quick little female. He barely got out of the way, letting a lamp die for him.

She’s going to be one of the greats, he thought, but he said, “Is this all you’ve got?”

Lips thinned, she slashed diagonally upward with stunning speed; he had to block with his stick—she sliced the end off.

“Oh, dear, did I cut off the tip of your gladius?”

Cade winced. She was literally out for blood and was growing increasingly enraged. Again and again, they circled, with her striking and him dodging. Finally, he could say, “Your ten minutes are up, halfling. You lose—”