kill her without so much as a second glance in her direction once done.
Lucy selected a branch from the ground, her attention partly focused on him the entire time—good girl—and returned. He’d at least toss her one more tip. “Whether it’s me or it’s Sage, you fight dirty, hear me? Do whatever it takes, because you are outmatched, no matter how you look at it.”
He narrowed his eyes when Lucy dropped her hands to her sides. She circled him, leaving a large enough space between them that whoever struck first would have a few feet to cross. She gripped the stick loosely in one hand, almost feigning like she’d forgotten she carried it.
Then, as if he hadn’t spent the first half of their night working with her, Lucy flipped the stick in her hand and thrust it out toward him. Victor smacked her wrist, expecting her to drop it, but Lucy followed through. As a result, there was less impact against her skin, and she had the opportunity to strike out with the opposite fist.
Victor leaned away from the punch, tempted to sweep her feet with his own. Not yet though. His curiosity wanted to see what she’d bring to the table.
Her stake hand came around in a hook that would have made Mayweather proud. She twisted before it connected though, catching him off guard a second time.
If she wasn’t coming at him like a thunderstorm, he’d have taken the time to be impressed. She wasn’t holding back, and Victor dodged away from the rapid bursts with scarcely a moment to spare. Hell, he’d felt the wind from the last one as her fist flew past him. When had she gotten so fast?
“Fucking hustler,” he called. “You acted like you couldn’t swat a mosquito before, and now you’ve got moves like a pro.”
Lucy didn’t take the bait, charging him before attempting a backhanded stab. Unlike him, she wasn’t against kicking out either. Totally underhanded, she kept him moving and aware.
He loved it.
“You don’t get anywhere in life by just being pretty,” Lucy replied. The stabbing hand kept coming at him. Up, across, two jabs. “And before I was a blood slave, I was a teen surrounded by lecherous boys.”
Victor decided to up the ante. Instead of just defending, he went on the offense, holding back but slashing at her with an open palm. He didn’t take advantage of his vampire speed either, although it was something she’d eventually have to contend with.
Lucy kept moving, face grim. She threw her arm high, then whirled, striking out to tag him at the last second. Her reach fell short, however. Victor punched out, tapping her with his fingertips. “You’re dead,” he said when he made contact.
Lucy grunted a rude noise. If anything, his comments added to her determination. She punched out twice more, each attempt more vicious than the last. Victor found himself backing up to get out of the way.
She looked so pleased with herself at his retreat that he cursed, deciding to teach her a lesson. Before she could catch her breath, Victor swiped at her two times. Although he kept his touches light, it wouldn’t surprise him if she ended up with a small bruise there and there. He’d gone through similar and worse during his training, and maybe this would be one way she took what they did very seriously.
Lucy countered, her elbow ramming backward and almost brushing his arm. He slapped it away, using his body to shove Lucy to the ground. She twisted awkwardly, arms windmilling to maintain balance.
Suddenly regretting the force he’d used, Victor reached out, trying to help stabilize her before she fell. As she stumbled, her makeshift stake stabbed upward toward him.
A sharp but sudden pain flared from the side of his neck, his nerves rioting in protest.
Damn.
She’d made contact.
Chapter Seven
The stricken look on Victor’s face was her only clue something had changed, because she’d been on the move.
Lucy whirled again, pain radiating out with every breath, her heart racing and lungs burning, but
Lucy selected a branch from the ground, her attention partly focused on him the entire time—good girl—and returned. He’d at least toss her one more tip. “Whether it’s me or it’s Sage, you fight dirty, hear me? Do whatever it takes, because you are outmatched, no matter how you look at it.”
He narrowed his eyes when Lucy dropped her hands to her sides. She circled him, leaving a large enough space between them that whoever struck first would have a few feet to cross. She gripped the stick loosely in one hand, almost feigning like she’d forgotten she carried it.
Then, as if he hadn’t spent the first half of their night working with her, Lucy flipped the stick in her hand and thrust it out toward him. Victor smacked her wrist, expecting her to drop it, but Lucy followed through. As a result, there was less impact against her skin, and she had the opportunity to strike out with the opposite fist.
Victor leaned away from the punch, tempted to sweep her feet with his own. Not yet though. His curiosity wanted to see what she’d bring to the table.
Her stake hand came around in a hook that would have made Mayweather proud. She twisted before it connected though, catching him off guard a second time.
If she wasn’t coming at him like a thunderstorm, he’d have taken the time to be impressed. She wasn’t holding back, and Victor dodged away from the rapid bursts with scarcely a moment to spare. Hell, he’d felt the wind from the last one as her fist flew past him. When had she gotten so fast?
“Fucking hustler,” he called. “You acted like you couldn’t swat a mosquito before, and now you’ve got moves like a pro.”
Lucy didn’t take the bait, charging him before attempting a backhanded stab. Unlike him, she wasn’t against kicking out either. Totally underhanded, she kept him moving and aware.
He loved it.
“You don’t get anywhere in life by just being pretty,” Lucy replied. The stabbing hand kept coming at him. Up, across, two jabs. “And before I was a blood slave, I was a teen surrounded by lecherous boys.”
Victor decided to up the ante. Instead of just defending, he went on the offense, holding back but slashing at her with an open palm. He didn’t take advantage of his vampire speed either, although it was something she’d eventually have to contend with.
Lucy kept moving, face grim. She threw her arm high, then whirled, striking out to tag him at the last second. Her reach fell short, however. Victor punched out, tapping her with his fingertips. “You’re dead,” he said when he made contact.
Lucy grunted a rude noise. If anything, his comments added to her determination. She punched out twice more, each attempt more vicious than the last. Victor found himself backing up to get out of the way.
She looked so pleased with herself at his retreat that he cursed, deciding to teach her a lesson. Before she could catch her breath, Victor swiped at her two times. Although he kept his touches light, it wouldn’t surprise him if she ended up with a small bruise there and there. He’d gone through similar and worse during his training, and maybe this would be one way she took what they did very seriously.
Lucy countered, her elbow ramming backward and almost brushing his arm. He slapped it away, using his body to shove Lucy to the ground. She twisted awkwardly, arms windmilling to maintain balance.
Suddenly regretting the force he’d used, Victor reached out, trying to help stabilize her before she fell. As she stumbled, her makeshift stake stabbed upward toward him.
A sharp but sudden pain flared from the side of his neck, his nerves rioting in protest.
Damn.
She’d made contact.
Chapter Seven
The stricken look on Victor’s face was her only clue something had changed, because she’d been on the move.
Lucy whirled again, pain radiating out with every breath, her heart racing and lungs burning, but
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