He tilted his head. “Game on, sheila.” And he began tomove.
The Dire had no idea how to wield a sword, but he was a trained fighter, and he was damned fast. So fast, it gave me zero time to think.
He was a blur of swirling motion, the wooden sword darting in and out as much as swinging. But each and every time, somehow, my sword was there to meet his. And I didn’t even have to strain.
He finally spun to a stop. For a moment, I was mesmerized by the way his sweaty tee shirt clung to his body...
“Do you mind if I cut in?”
The voice was feminine, and I turned to see Aria, the Dragona. She held an unusual sword in her hand, similar to what I’d seen the rooftop Dragons carry. It glittered as red-gold as her scales.
I ogled the sword. “I really don’t know what I’m doing.”
She tilted her head, and I was struck by how beautiful she was. Her hair matched her scales and flowed around a face that belonged on a movie screen. Her figure was so perfect it didn’t seem real—a tiny waist with full breasts and hips, all clothed in scales.
As she walked in front of Matt, I saw his gaze roam down her body. Not that I blamed him—she strutted rather than walked. The woman was sex on a stick. But as she faced up to me, a spark of jealous anger had me balancing on my toes. I might not know what the hell I was doing, but suddenly fighting her seemed like a bloody good idea.
Maybe I had been hanging around these shifters for too long.
That thought had just crossed my mind when she came at me. She had every bit of Matt’s physical power and grace but combined it with a flurry of swordplay that was as incredibly graceful as it was lightning quick.
I couldn’t even think—it all happened so fast. Just a blur, really, as that lethal sword of hers flashed past me. Yet, somehow, no matter how she came at me, my wooden sword managed to stay between me and it.
Finally, her weapon slashed across mine, and sliced it in two.
I was breathing like a steam engine, but she’d barely broken sweat. Our eyes met, and then she grinned at me.
“Strewth, Angel!” Matt’s eyes glowed at me from where he stood with Mari. “You were bloody amazing!”
“I thought you said you’d never done swordplay,” the ogress said, her brows low.
“I haven’t,” I protested.
“You have,” Aria corrected. “Tyrez told me about your amnesia, but you’ve had training, and lots of it. You would make one hell of a mercenary.”
I stared back at her, totally bewildered. How had I done what I had just done? And on the heels of that thought came both anger and frustration. Why did I know how to fight? My parents must have ensured I received training, but why?
Who the hell was I?
Aria tilted her head at me, as if she sensed some of my angst. Being a Dragon, maybe she did. Either that, or she was as good at reading my expressions as Matt.
“It must be hard,” she said, “Not knowing your past. My own issues revolved around just the opposite—knowing, and not wanting to.”
“Yes. Sometimes the past is best forgotten,” Mari said, with pain in her voice.
I was abruptly ashamed of my anger. I needed answers, yes. But my past wasn’t wrapped up in pain. Just—blankness.
“You gave me a great workout, and I thank you for that,” Aria stated with a smile, before heading off through the battling students.
Matt picked up the shattered end of my sword. “Crikey, that sword of hers was sharp,” he said. “Hard to believe she grows a new one with every shift.”
Growone? I stared after the Dragona.
“It’s the spike of her Dragon tail,” Matt explained, moving so close to me I could feel his body’s heat. “The Bellatis have their horns, and the Dragons their tailspikes.”
I swallowed and glanced at him. “You don’t grow anything useful—do you?”
He waggled his brows. “Depends on what ya call useful.”
