Chosen at Nightfall (Shadow Falls #5)(83)

"Have you read the books?" Kylie asked.

"Yeah. When my grandfather was giving me lessons, I devoured them. I used to pretend to be a holy warrior." His smile brightened. "Saving damsels in distress."

She could see him playing that role. She remembered when they were kids and he'd caught the rock that the bullies had thrown at her. At six, she'd considered him a hero.

At sixteen, she considered him a heartbreaker.

"Okay," he said. "Here's my plan. First I'm going to teach you how to hold the sword, and then to do some very simple defensive moves. Then we'll actually spar for a while."

He picked up her sword and moved behind her. She immediately swung around.

"Turn around, I want to guide you on how to hold it."

"Why can't you just show me?"

He frowned. "This is how my grandfather taught me. Please, turn around."

She frowned right back at him, but she swung around. Then she held her breath and waited for his touch. Waited to feel his body against hers.

Waited for the pain that came with touching him-emotional pain-that was both sweet and bitter.She felt his chest, warm and solid, come against her shoulder blades. His right hand reached down and pressed two fingers down by her elbow. Then he slowly glided his hand down to her wrist. The feel of his touch was both wanted and unwanted. She swallowed and it sounded almost too loud.

"Take the sword." His voice, deep and hoarse, whispered in her ear.

She hadn't realized until then that she'd closed her eyes.

Popping them open, she saw he'd reached around her and held the sword in his left hand. Reaching for the sword, she wrapped her palm around the handle.

"Now, move your wrist just a little to the..." He paused at the same time the sword started to glow.

His intake of air said he was again awed by the sword's action. Kylie was too centered on the feel of him pressed against her to care about the sword.

"This way," he said, and shifted her wrist to the right ever so slightly. His head turned also and she felt his cheek on the back of her head.

She thought she heard him inhale, but she couldn't swear on it.

"Do you feel how the sword is level in your hand?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. His scent surrounded her. The strongest waves of pain stopped, but she still felt a dull ache. She also felt ... the wonder of his touch. She felt his skin wherever he pressed against her.

"You're doing good. This is the way you need to hold it."

They stood like that for several long seconds. His firm form pressed again her, his arm encircling her, the sword in her hand.

For a second she thought she heard his hum, the powerful hypnotizing sound meant to weaken women.

"Now what?" she bit out, fighting the feeling of being lured, of being seduced.

He inhaled sharply and stepped back. "Now I get my sword and show you some moves." His voice sounded extra low.

He shifted quickly to reach for his sword. He moved to stand right beside her. His dark blue gaze turned and he looked at her. She saw the heat in his eyes, she saw the desire. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

She looked away quickly and while part of her wanted to call him on it, she simply stood there and waited for him to show her the next move. And hoped it only involved sword fighting and not seduction.

Chapter Thirty

She spent the next thirty minutes following his moves. Over and over. Swiping the sword this way, then that. He barked out commands. Not really in a rude way, but as if this was the way he'd been taught. She couldn't help but imagine a younger Lucas taking stern directions from his grandfather.

"Not like that," he said. "Keep the sword pointing out to where your opponent will be. And don't look down. Now look where you're holding your weight. Put your weight into your moves."

Over and over again, they did it.

It was actually grueling. The sun felt hot on her skin, the air thick. Her leg muscles from all the partial squats and forward thrusts burned. She didn't complain. Not once. She'd take this to him touching her.

"That's good," he said, doing the same moves beside her. "You're doing it."

Oh my. You are a natural.

Out in the open, she actually heard the voice before she felt the spirit's cold. The spirit stood to Kylie's left, holding her own sword, following Lucas's direction to a tee.

"What are you doing?" Lucas asked. "Shift your body weight back and then forward."

Kylie ignored Lucas, but continued to move-her focus now on the spirit's weapon and not following his directions.

Comparing the swords, she realized the spirit's sword wasn't really like the one glowing in Kylie's hands. The ghost's blade was more slender and tapered. And the hilt, as Lucas called the handle, was longer.

What kind of sword do you have? Kylie asked the spirit, thinking maybe if she could get her to open up, she might give Kylie something to help send her away.

A bastard sword. I stole it from a bastard. She laughed, but she didn't miss a step in her moves. Her form looked practiced.

Whoever she was, her skills with the sword matched, if not surpassed, Lucas's.

I'm serious. Kylie missed a step.

"You okay?" Lucas asked and she felt him studying her.