I raise an eyebrow. “And this rickety old shed is going to teach me how?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, a ghost of a smirk. “After you,” he says with mock chivalry as he reaches and flicks on a light.
As my eyes adjust, I gasp. The space is crammed with sharp tools and blades hanging on the walls—knives, saws, cleavers, and even a few swords gleaming ominously. One wall is dedicated entirely to axes, of course. The only wall not covered in deadly implements boasts shelves lined with guns.
In the center is a workbench scattered with bits of metal and wood. And in the corner…Is that a bed?
“Cozy,” I remark, trying to mask the unease creeping up my spine.
“Welcome to my happy place,” Axel says, sweeping his arm grandiosely. “Where I come to play with my toys.”
I shoot him a look. “Quite the collection. Planning to arm a small militia?”
“Nah. This is just for fun.”
He catches my gaze, lingering on the bed. “I sleep out here sometimes. When the nightmares come.” His voice drops, uncharacteristically soft, revealing a vulnerability that tugs at my heart.
I swallow hard.
The tough guy has nightmares and sleeps surrounded by weapons. Something twists in my chest.
“When I wake up thinking I’m still in the fighting pits, still more animal than man, this is where I come to regain control.” His ice-blue eyes meet mine, raw and haunted. In that moment, I glimpse the broken male beneath the violent exterior.
Instinctively, I reach out, wanting to offer comfort. He takes my hand, squeezing it gently.
“I get it,” I manage, because I do. I know what it’s like to feel shattered and unsafe in your own mind.
“Were you forced to fight in the pits?”
Axel shakes his head. “No. I had to expel the demon in me, or I would have killed everyone. I was more animal than man in those days. When I couldn’t avenge her death, I needed an outlet.”
“Avenge her death?” I ask, confusion knitting my brow.
“Emely,” he says softly, his voice tightening. “My first love. Damien’s younger sister was brutally murdered when we were still teenagers.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Axel shakes it off, brushing away the weight of the past.
“Alright then,” he says curtly, and the flicker of vulnerability vanishes as though it never happened. “Enough of the touchy-feely shit. Let’s go have some fun.”
He grabs a pistol off the wall and strides out of the shed, leaving me to trail after him, an equal mix of wary and intrigued by the enigma that is Axel.
We trek out to a clearing behind the shed. Axel sets up a makeshift firing range, propping old cans and bottles on tree stumps.
“Watch closely,” he orders. “And try to keep your tongue in your mouth while you drool over my skills.”
I snort. “Someone’s cocky.”
“Wildcat, you have no idea.” He winks, then shifts into instructor mode. “Feet apart, dominant side facing the target. Support your shooting hand with the other.”
As he demonstrates the stance, muscles rippling beneath his shirt, the heat in my cheeks has nothing to do with the sun that is starting to creep overhead.
Damn, the male is pure walking sex. And he knows it.
Axel fires off a series of shots in rapid succession. Each one finds its mark, targets exploding. It’s impressive as hell, and he damn well knows that too.
“Your turn, Wildcat. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
