Bone Deep(28)

She had prayed for the end so many times that when faced with a beginning she had no knowledge of how to respond. The end she could handle and was wholly prepared to meet with blood on her hands and hate in her heart. But now she was afloat in a sea of uncertainty. Not knowing how to move forward or back she decided to take refuge in what she did know…fighting.

With the miasma of emotion tearing through her, she doubted she could control the demon demanding bloodlust. She would have to ask Dmitry’s forgiveness before they danced with one another.

Bone watched him disappear through a doorway and followed, her footsteps sure, her heart anything but. She entered a workout room of some sort. Various instruments of health and fitness lined the walls of the enormous space. The ceiling was vaulted, with intermittent hooks dotting the pristine whiteness. From those hooks hung several ropes.

Kill, kill, kill, the demon demanded.

She forced herself to look away lest she adhere to the mantra and become death. Dmitry offered her surcease from the violent winds whipping at her. She would not kill him—not this man who saw more inside her than she damn well knew was there.

Insight took her breath.

He’d introduced her to something she’d never known—not on the plains of Jericho, or within the stone embrace of Masada, not in the entire world. This man with eyes that reminded her of the day she became nothing more than a death-bringer. This man with his kisses that upended her heart, spilling out emotions she’d never imagined she could feel.

He’d introduced her to hope.

Her fists clenched and she looked back to the ropes. Remember, she told herself. He cannot have you—you could be the death of him. And he would hate her when he discovered the truth of who she was and what she had done, indeed, what she was going to do.

“I am versed in all manner of warfare, Etzem. Where should we begin?” he asked in a low voice.

He had stripped his shirt off, leaving him in black cargo pants. He had also removed his boots and her gaze was drawn to his feet. They were the same as his hands, big and strong. Bone allowed her gaze to travel up, over long legs she knew were thick with muscle and then up over his trim waist. There was a large scar along his abdomen. It wrapped from his navel toward his back as if he’d been almost cut in half. The muscles of his abdomen rippled and flowed into chest draped in more heavy muscle. His shoulders were wide enough to carry the weight of her world.

She wouldn’t allow him to bear that weight.

She noticed the bandage on his left shoulder and thought perhaps it was good she’d killed Azrael.

“Do not call me Etzem,” she said in a tight voice.

“Ah yes, things have changed since San Sebastian. What should I call you then?” he asked, arms at his sides, hands loose. His stance indicated he wasn’t worried. His face though was shut down, devoid of all emotion.

It was the reminder she needed that she faced a killer much as herself, one with a conscience.

“Ubiytsa is fine.”

“You speak my native tongue as if you were born there,” he told her.

Was he trying to distract her from her rage? She almost laughed. There was no escape from the hallowed embrace of that emotion.

“Did you hear me, ubiytsa?” he asked calmly.

Ninka’s language had always brought Bone a measure of peace. She had learned it first. Then Japanese, Gaelic, French, Arabic, Portuguese, and Spanish. Russian came as easy to Bone as breathing when she was with Dmitry.

She shrugged. “I speak many languages as if I were born in the country of origin. Another talent of mine Joseph made sure to hone. I have an ear for inflection.”

As she waited on his next move Bone catalogued her surroundings. A fifty by fifty foot mat covered the floor right in the middle of the room. The ropes dangled at each corner and she smiled, let the demon loose to flow and ride the blood in her body, bringing heat and hate to every molecule of her being.

He cocked his head. “I will not call you killer. Not here.”

“But you already have and I suspect it’s because you understand the truth. A killer is all that I am. Taking life is all that I know.”

“I disagree. There is more to you. I have felt it. I have tasted it. But you need the fight, so let’s fight.”

“I know who trained you,” she admitted casually, stepping onto the mat he stood in the middle of.

The lighting in the room was low, but it did not matter. She had been trained in the dark, in the light and every nuance in between.

He nodded. “I suspect you know much about me that I don’t know about you. One day soon we will talk about it all, da?”

“I killed Abela when I was nine years old,” she told him.

His reaction surprised her. He clapped. It was a taunt. “I heard he was killed by a student and once I knew about you I wondered. You move like him but lighter, faster. You are also emotionless, which is something he prized in his students. He was an evil man.”

“I wrenched his head from his body and took it back to Joseph. Abela was vain. He thought no one was as good at killing as he. Unfortunately, his student had become his teacher.” Bone sighed, letting it flow through her body and out her mouth. “I have known nothing but the fight for too many years to count. I have ended more life than you can imagine and you want to fight with me?” She snorted delicately.

“I would rather we spar but you seem determined to talk me to death. I came prepared for your best. Shall we?”