I didn't sleep. I spent the night staring at the canopy of my bed, watching the moonlight crawl across the floor like a slow-moving ghost. Every muscle in my body ached from the trek through the forest, but my mind was a storm of fire. After I woke up in the morning, Dracarus was on time as expected, sitting at the table waiting for me as he asked in a calm and oddly soothing tune.
Are you ready to learn how to bite, little human?
I wasn't sure if this man was serious about teaching me how to fight, but who am I kidding? This neat freak is not serious, and pigs can fly!!!
"Teach me to bite Mr. Cold Pint."
It was a bold move, maybe a stupid one for insulting the man to his face, but for the first time since waking up in this world, I didn't feel like a leaf caught in a gale. I felt like I had been given wings. He walked off, simply implying he was going to reschedule... and here on, don't you think a guy with his uptight personality could give the decent of human communication? And when the first grey light of dawn touched the window frame, there was a sharp, rhythmic rapping at my door. It wasn't the soft touch of a maid. It was heavy and impatient.
"Up, Wildcat. The sun is rising, and you're burning daylight."
Dracarus, that jerk arrived.
I threw back the covers, my feet hitting the cold stone floor. I didn't bother with a dress. I found a pair of sturdy trousers and a linen tunic I'd managed to scavenge, lacing my boots with trembling fingers. When I opened the door, he was leaning against the opposite wall, already dressed in black leather that looked like a second skin. He didn't look tired. Vampires never did.
"I expected you to be hiding under the covers," he murmured, his eyes scanning me with that infuriatingly calm appraisal.
"I'm surprised you didn't get scared and run off like an infant." He continued in his mocking tone
"Well, you expected wrong," I snapped, brushing past him. "Where are we going? The cellar? The dungeons?"
"The training grounds," he said, falling into step behind me. His presence was a cold weight at my back. "The dungeons are for those who have already lost. You're here to learn how to keep from ending up in them."
We walked in silence through the waking manor. The air was crisp, smelling of dew and the sharp metallic tang of weapons being sharpened in the distance. We bypassed the main courtyard and headed toward a secluded, high-walled enclosure at the back of the estate. Lukas was there, standing near a rack of wooden practice swords. He had a bandage across his brow, but his eyes lit up when he saw me...followed quickly by a flash of worry when they landed on Dracarus.
"Prince," Lukas said, bowing his head.
"Lukas will be your shadow," Dracarus announced, ignoring the greeting. He stepped into the center of the ring, the sand crunching under his boots. "He will teach you the basics of movement. But I..." He turned, a slow, predatory glint in his eyes. "I will be the one you have to survive."
He tossed a wooden dagger at me. I caught it confidently as if I had been practicing all my life. No way am I going to make a fool out of myself and give this cold-hearted freak a chance to mock me; the weight of it surprised me—it was so heavy....
"Rule one, Hina," Dracarus said, his voice dropping to that dangerous silk. "In this world, there is no such thing as a fair fight. There is only the person who stands and the person who bleeds. Now... show me your teeth."
I gripped the wooden handle until my knuckles turned white. I stepped into the center of the ring, the sand shifting under my boots.
I felt small...
Tiny...
really—compared to the two warriors standing before me. Lukas looked like he wanted to pull me away, but Dracarus looked like he was waiting for a reason to break me.
"Attack me," Dracarus commanded bluntly.
"What?" I blinked. "You're a centuries-old vampire prince. I'm a human who just woke up from a coma. You want me to attack you?"
"I want you to try," he corrected.
I lunged. It was clumsy, a desperate swing of the wooden blade toward his chest. In a blur of black leather, he wasn't there anymore. I felt a sharp tap on the back of my knee, and suddenly I was face down in the dirt, the wind knocked out of me.
"Again," he said, his voice completely level.
I pushed myself up, spitting sand out of my mouth. My anger was starting to override my fear. I tried again, slower this time, trying to watch his feet like Lukas had told me once. I feinted left and swung right.
Dracarus didn't even move his feet. He simply caught my wrist in mid-air. His grip wasn't painful, but it was absolute. I felt like I was being held by a statue made of iron.
"Movement is a series of choices, Hina," he whispered, pulling me closer until I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "You choose to be predictable. You choose to be slow because you are afraid of the impact. If you want to survive, you have to stop caring if it hurts."
He let go, and I stumbled back. Lukas stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. "My Prince, perhaps we should start with footwork. She's exhausted from yesterday."
"The enemy won't care if she's tired, Lukas," Dracarus snapped. He turned his gaze back to me. "She wants to be a monster? Monsters don't need rest. They need hunger."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm. I looked at the wooden dagger in my hand, then at the two men who held my life in their hands. One wanted to protect me, and the other wanted to forge me into something sharp enough to kill.
I took a breath, centering myself. "Again," I said, my voice raspy but firm.
This time, I didn't lunge. I waited. I watched the way the sunlight hit the sand and the way Dracarus shifted his weight almost imperceptibly. When I moved, it wasn't a swing...it was a dive. I dropped low, aiming for his ankles.
He moved, but not fast enough to avoid me entirely. My shoulder clipped his shin, and though I ended up back in the dirt, I saw him take a single, half-step back to regain his balance.
A silence fell over the yard. Lukas looked stunned. Dracarus looked down at his boot, then slowly looked up at me. For the first time, that dark, appreciative light from the night before was back, but it was fiercer now.
"A half-step," Dracarus murmured. "A human girl made the Prince of the Night flinch."
"I told you," I panted, pushing myself to my feet for the twentieth time. "I'm not a piece on your board."
"No," Dracarus said, a small, genuine smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're a problem. And I think I'm going to enjoy solving you."
I looked at my reflection in a nearby bucket of water
Hair wild, face smudged with dirt, eyes burning. Hina Winchester was gone. The Wildcat was waking up.