Matt’s lips straightened. “They don’t feel energy like you do,” he said. “They’re wary of you because of what they’ve heard. No one even knows who the hell that bloody bloke is.”
I watched as Cara sat down with them on the steps. They seemed comfortable together.
Tyrez straightened and instantly had the attention of every eye on the field.
“Welcome to your first weapons class with swords and knives. This first session will be more of a student assessment than actual instruction. We are going to turn you loose with wooden weapons and see what you can do.”
“Ballocks,” muttered Mari.
I choked on a laugh. Her adoption of Matt’s favorite terms was beyond impressive.
“For this class, my fellow instructor is Aria. She was a mercenary before she joined us, and is one of the best sword fighters I have seen. So team yourselves up.” Tyrez gestured to the pile of wooden swords. “Grab one. And have at it. The only guideline is no head strikes.”
The students crowded forward—Matt, Mari, and I stared at each other.
“Why don’t we trade off?” I suggested. “Matt and I can go first, and then we can switch.”
Mari’s broad forehead seemed permanently furrowed, but she nodded and followed Matt and me to the pile. I did my best to ignore the way students pulled away from me. Matt seemed determined to make up for it by brushing against me at every opportunity, which was distracting for entirely different reasons.
“At least I don’t have to growl at them,” he said with an easy grin.
It did reduce the dick-measuring possibilities, I had to admit. I found myself picking through the swords until I found one that felt right in my hand.
Matt raised a brow. “Do you know what y’are doin’?” he asked, pulling a random one out of the pile.
“Nope,” I confessed.
“Oh, good.” He offered his lopsided grin, and my heart flipped right over.
I grabbed a bigger version and passed it to Mari. She grimaced as she took it, holding it gingerly as though it might bite. “Did I mention not smiting?”
“Yes, a couple of times. Just remember how annoying Matt is. That will help.”
“Hey!” he protested, and then deliberately rubbed his body against mine. “Does this mean you like bad blokes?”
“Annoying, not bad,” I insisted.
He waggled his brows. “I can be bad. Very bad.”
I smacked him on the behind with my weapon. “Hmm. Good balance.”
He huffed a laugh as he led us to a clear spot in the field and faced me.
“Okay, Angel. Let’s see if you can nail me with that dodgy little stick.”
He waved the sword in front of him. Some Dires were already swinging at each other with fierce and joyful abandon, their swords thunking against flesh as much as wood. I theorized that there would be no shortage of bruises by the end of the class. I noticed Tyrez and Aria walking among them, observing.
Matt took advantage of my distraction by coming at me. His darting movement was graceful, although he swung the sword with more enthusiasm than ability.
He was aiming for a thwack to my hip but never even got close. Somehow, my wooden sword fended it off.
“Hey, good parry,” he said, and spun around as his stride carried him past me, aiming now for my butt.
I spun too, and again the swords met, the wood thunking as they clashed.
His brows twitched. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”
I wasn’t, not really. So I just shrugged. “Not much call for swords in the human realm.”
