“Good.” I’ve zero desire to hear about the Earl of Acca right now. There’ll be plenty of time for that nightmare. Later.
Lincoln rubs his palms together, his full smile returning. “I’ve a surprise for you first. Nat here will teach you how to fight with something besides your tail.”
My heart feels like a balloon about to float to the ceiling. “Really?” I race up to the edge of the mats and bob on the balls of my feet. I’ve never had actual combat training.
Best. Surprise. Ever.
Nat sets his hands on his hips. “Now, be fair, my Prince. I never agreed to attack the young Miss.”
“I told you, Nat. She’s not like the ladies of the court.” He picks up a wooden sword and flicks it straight at my head. I catch it in my left hand, an inch away from my nose. Lincoln grins. “It’s a shame that you missed her at the tournament. She was amazing.”
My skin flushes something fierce. “Thanks.” I turn to Nat. “I fought in the Arena since I was twelve.” I set the blunt point of the sword on my fingertip and balance it there. “Hand-to-hand combat, to the death.”
Nat points a meaty finger at Lincoln. “I won’t do it, no matter you’re the Prince and the young miss says it’s all fine and dandy. Ladies don’t stand a chance fightin’ a thrax and that’s the truth.” He stares at me and frowns. “Look at her, such a lovely young thing. You can’t be serious, my Prince.”
Humph. A lovely young thing that could snap your neck in four seconds or less. Showing this guy how girls can fight? Sounds like a challenge. My lips curl into a mischievous grin. I’m always up for a challenge.
Lincoln flips his sword into his right hand, his mismatched eyes finding mine. “Is that what you think, Nat?” He firms up his footing, his back arching into battle stance.
Nat crosses his heavy arms over his barrel-chest. “It’s not what I think, young Prince. It’s what I know.”
Peeling off my sneakers, I step onto the practice mats in my bare feet, the wooden sword gripped tightly in my hand. My heart thuds so hard, my pulse throbs through my throat and temples. At this point, I wouldn’t care if we were practicing open heart surgery, as long as I got closer to Lincoln. I hold the Prince’s gaze, giving him the barest of nods.
“Here’s what I know, Nat.” Raising his sword level with his shoulder, Lincoln lunges straight for me.
My mind clears as the Prince’s sword streams toward my head. Battle mode clicks into my brain. Lincoln’s no longer the guy I wanna kiss, he’s six feet of solid muscle streaming at me with a weapon and a plan.
Fortunately for me, his plan kinda sucks.
I lean over at the last second. Once his body slams into my side, my tail grabs Lincoln’s neck, flipping him over. He spins 360 degrees through the air, landing flat on his back with a thud. He looks up at me, raising his right eyebrow.
“You’re using wrestling moves in a sword fight, Myla.”
I sniff. “Says the guy on the mat.”
Arching his back, Lincoln springs onto his feet. My mind calculates the possible moves from this stance. The Prince lunges at me again with his wooden sword; I block his strike with an upward thrust. As he slices from different angles, I keep blocking.
No matter what I do, I stay stuck on the defensive. Grr. I need to break through his hits and get on the attack.
When Lincoln spins around for another strike, I see my chance. For the millisecond his back is turned to me, I leap into the air and kick out feet-first, looking to connect with his shoulders and slam him face-first onto the mat.
Lincoln senses my move, dodging before I strike. Instead of pummeling into Lincoln’s shoulders, I kick empty air and tumble onto the ground, landing flat on my back. Lincoln springs forward, pinning me to the mat, his hands holding mine immobile.
“I warned you about wrestling moves, Myla.”
“And I should have warned you about my tail.” With all my focus, I will the arrowhead end to curl, giving Lincoln a good punch in the gut.
But my tail has a mind of its own. Ignoring my commands, the arrowhead end slides up Lincoln’s arm and begins mussing his hair. Long brown strands fall over the Prince’s slate-blue and wheat-brown eyes. Half his mouth quirks with a grin.
“Some secret weapon you’ve got there.”
I groan. “My inner demon and I don’t always see eye-to-eye.”
Suddenly my brain slips out of battle mode, entering into the very pleasant sensation of Lincoln’s body atop mine. I twist my wrists; he holds me firmly to the mat. Damn, that’s hot. I stare at his mouth. Kiss me.
Nat steps up beside us. “You’ve proved your point, my Prince. I’ll fight the young Miss.” He nervously scans the room. “The pair of you need to be getting up.”
My eyes stay locked on Lincoln’s. “No.” My voice comes out a low whisper. “Just one.” I shift my hips so my leg brushes between his thighs. Come on.