“Rereading. The Art of War by Sun Tzu,” he said. “It’s an old book but good.”
“Hmm, I think I heard about it in one of my literature classes.”
“I bet you did.” He put the book on the nightstand, wincing in pain, and then watched me. “What is it, Nadine? I can see you have something you want to say.”
“Well ...”
“Come on, Nad. I’m your friend. Talk to me.”
“All right. Well, I’m concerned. I saw you with the Crimson Dagger while we were in the forest.” He lowered his gaze. “Why do you still have it? That dagger is dangerous. You told me that. You said whoever possessed made a deal with Omi. Have you made a deal with Omi?”
He stared at me, appalled. “Of course not!”
“Then why do you still have it?”
“I don’t know. I mean, we got it from Brock, and then Brock was gone and the dagger was just there. It’s beautiful, powerful, and sharp. I decided to keep it in the temple’s vault with the other precious books and things like that. But once I was called to come here, I knew we would be fighting and I thought it would make a nice weapon.”
“Doesn’t it affect you? Keeping it like that?”
“I wasn’t the one that struck the deal with Omi. The deal probably fell through once Brock was killed, and the dagger became simply that. A beautiful dagger, no powers or deals attached.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.” He offered me a tired grin. “Do you really think I would do anything that might bring harm to the creed?”
The memory of him rushing out of the hotel in Wichita to keep the demons off Victor and Micah came to mind. And after being attacked and almost killed, he had come to us, even knowing there were more demons with us.
I smiled, feeling silly. “You wouldn’t.”
He smiled back. “See, you know me, but I appreciate the concern. I would probably have worried about it, if you were the one with it.”
“I know. Sorry about that.” I patted his hand. “Well, I’m going to let you rest.”
“As if I needed more rest.” He shifted his weight, trying to adjust his pillows, and ended up cringing in pain again. “Perhaps I do.”
I chuckled. “Good night, Morgan.”
“Night, Nad.”
I exited his bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it. I truly felt silly. How could I have worried about Morgan? He was on our side. I knew he was, and he would always be.
23
Next morning Keisha woke me early as promised, and we trained all day.
“Like that,” Keisha said, approving of my stance. She threw herself at me, raising her wooden sword over my head, but I whirled around, almost as fast as she moved, and struck my wooden sword on her back. She groaned and laughed. “Nice!”
She reached behind her back and made a face.
“Was it too strong?”
“No, no. It was great.” She stretched her arms over her head, shook her shoulders, and took her stance. “Again.”
“Wait. It’s past four in the afternoon. How about a break?” We hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and even that had been a light snack. I was starving.
“One more time, then a break.”
“Fine,” I muttered. I was tired and hungry. My tummy would appreciate a snack right now. However, Miss Keisha wanted one more fight. Fine. I would give it to her.
This time I didn’t spin around her, but I ducked under her sword striking it with my own, hard and fast, making her lose her grip, and as her sword fell on the floor, mine leveled at her throat.
“Wow, you’re getting good at this.”
I smiled, proud of myself.
“Indeed.”
Losing the smile, I turned to the door. Micah was there, impeccable and handsome as always, watching us. Oddly, he was wearing sweatpants almost as tight as his jeans, a thermal shirt, and sneakers—clothes I never thought I would see him wearing, even if they were all black, of course. His eyes were intent on me, and that alone disconcerted me.
“How long have you been there?”
“For a while,” he said, stepping into the room.
Keisha bowed to him. “My Lord.”
“Keisha, why don’t you take a break?” Micah picked up the wooden sword from the floor. “I can practice with Nadine for a while.”
“I’m okay with Keisha,” I said.
He turned to me. “You’re used to her moves, darling. You need to practice with someone you never fought before.”
Without a word, Keisha bowed and left the room as if it was on fire. Traitor.
I scrunched my nose. “You know what? I need a break too.”
“After we go a round,” he said, pinning me with his eyes.
Micah took off his shirt.
I was about to argue some more, but that was lost the moment his shirt fell on the floor. I tried not to stare, but it was hard. Too hard. A heat wave washed over me, and I was sure my cheeks were red. “What are you doing?”
His abs and his chest were sculpted perfectly. Just like a god should be. His tattoos seemed strategically placed, to emphasize his flawless body. Damn, he couldn’t be more gorgeous or more perfect if he tried. It was unfair really. The other creatures of this Earth, the other lesser gods, the other humans had nothing on him. I could only do so much not to drool over him.
“The shirt will restrict my movements,” he said, quickly touching the pendant of his necklace.
Pushing back the feelings flooding my senses, I put on a blank mask and glanced at his legs. “And the pants won’t?”
I smacked my hand over my mouth. Smooth, Nadine. The pants had nothing to do with it. Besides he was wearing sweatpants, and they wouldn’t restrict any of his moments. Though they were a little on the tight side …
He put his hands over the waist of his pants, flashing me a teasing grin. “If you want me to take them off too, all you need to do is ask.”
I swallowed. “That’s not what I meant.”
He leaned into me and whispered in my ear. “Relax, darling.”
Easy for him to say. How could I relax if I was to fight a god? A half-naked god?
He positioned himself five feet from me and raised his wooden sword. Ready to fight.
Focusing on a dark stain on the floor because really, if I looked at him for too long, I was done for. My heart would be done for.
I exhaled and lifted my sword.
We engaged.
Fighting Micah was a surprise. He was fast and elegant, and several times I had the urge to step back and watch him—which was when he caught me off guard—but he was also focused and competent. He showed me where I should move faster, when to raise or lower my arm, what to expect. His fighting was different from Keisha, and I admitted—to myself—that he had been right. Fighting him was actually a good thing.
After a couple of rounds, I was starting to lag.
“Come on, darling.”
Micah raised the sword over my head, and I barely had time to move out of its path.
“I’m tired. Keisha and I trained for four hours this morning and another four this afternoon.”
“You can’t pause a real battle.”
“This isn’t a real battle.”
“But we’re training for one. You have to believe it is.”
Groaning, I turned my back to him, with every intention of walking away, but he stepped in front of me, swinging his sword at my head. I jumped back and parried the blow.