Janet nods eagerly, clearly excited about the development. I’m reminded of the time a wolf shifter rudely asked Lola why she didn’t have a mate. Is this Tyrane her mate?
“And how does Lola feel about that?” I ask.
Lola doesn’t respond, so Janet leans in.
“She lights up every time he looks at her,” Janet says. “But she claims it doesn’t mean much.”
“I don’t forgive easy,” Lola says. “Although, he has been very sweet.” She bites her lower lip.
I resist a smile. “Make him fight for it,” I encourage her. “You know your worth.”
At this, she lights up again, her eyes open and chest out.
33
A Win is a Win
I feel more relaxed after lunch period, and I find I’m very excited for combat class.
For once, I might actually have a sparring partner!
I haven’t had a proper partner in weeks, even before being trapped in Elite Hall. Jarron is not pleased with the idea, but I finally convince him to face me in the ring. He accepts the magic blocking cuffs and takes a defensive stance on the opposite side of the mat.
The rest of the class gathers to watch.
It’s quickly clear though that Jarron has zero intention of making the first move, which is a challenge for me because I’m not used to being the aggressor. I size him up, trying to think about his potential weaknesses. His magic is very powerful, so he likely over-relies on it, but even so, he’ll still be strong and fast.
I take a few careful steps toward him and prompt him to do the same. He obeys.
Finally, we’re within striking range of each other, which would be a dangerous position to be in if I thought he was going to make an aggressive move. I’m certain he’s not.
So, I take my first strike, just a test to see how he’ll react. Quick as lightening, he jerks out of the way and resets across the circle. I face him, eyes narrowed.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
Jarron hasn’t seen many of my tricks, so I can probably get a surprise hit on him, but I keep wondering if a hit will even do anything. Even without magic, he’s large and thick with muscle. My little human hands won’t do much.
And it’s not like I want to go for vulnerable areas, like his eyes or nose. I don’t actually want to hurt him. I’d save those scrappy tactics for life-and-death situations.
For this fight, I’d like to take him to the ground. That would be my ideal goal.
Is it possible?
We dance again, his eyes turning sharper as he waits for my next strike.
He knows I’m serious. This isn’t a game, and I’m trying to learn how to do this right. My life might honestly depend on it in the future.
But it’s really hard to take down someone stronger than me when they’re not making any active moves. I need to use his weight against him.
I begin a smooth pattern of swings, which he avoids easily each time. I speed up, keeping the same pattern. Left, left, right. Left, left, right. Left, left, right. Every fourth swing, I turn lower, aiming for his thigh.
One the third try, he lets me land a hit to his leg.
I grin like I’m pleased, yet I’m anything but.
I don’t let up my advancements. I swing, he shifts. I swing, he shifts.
Then, once his eyes flicker away from hands and to my waist, I change it up.
