Dagon thought any battle with the Gathendiens would most likely be fought with fighter craft and battleship cannons but opted not to mention it. Eliana was clearly a warrior through and through and—as such—wisely wanted to be prepared for anything. He admired her greatly for that… even though every hit she took made him want to kill the soldier who delivered it.
“Suck it up and stop worrying about me,” she went on. “I need you guys to do what my fellow warriors on Earth would do. Cheer me. Jeer me. Ruthlessly ridicule Maarev and Liden here for being felled so many times by someone half their size. Whatever you want to do. Just make some damn noise. I’m trying to learn.”
For a long moment, no one said a word.
Then Brohko thrust a fist into the air and shouted, “Kick their asses, Eliana!”
She grinned big. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Eliana smiled at the soldiers as they filed out of the training room. It had taken a long while, but she had finally succeeded in taking down both Maarev and Liden while they were camouflaged. Preternaturally sharp hearing allowed her to pinpoint their location and movements easily when all was silent. The men moved quietly. She’d give them that. But not quietly enough to elude an immortal’s ears. And she could hear their heartbeats when they didn’t move, giving her a method of locating them even when they stood still. But once the shouting began, she lost those advantages.
The men had gotten in some good hits, pausing each time to assess her injuries even when she landed on her feet, which was both annoying and endearing. But she kept fighting, searching for some way she would be able to track them in battle. And eventually she began to catch glimpses of the barely noticeable ripple their camouflage sometimes created with movement.
Thank you, extraordinarily sharp vision.
If that did not suffice, she brought scent into play. Her nose was as efficient as that of an arctic fox, enabling her to single out each man’s scent and differentiate it from the cheering onlookers. In the past, she had only used her eyes, ears, and nose to locate the psychotic vampires she hunted. Once she found them, she relied solely on speed and skill to defeat them in battle. The change in technique would require more practice on her part in order to perfect it.
“Thanks, guys,” she called after the men, determined to train with them daily.
Maarev smiled, one eye nearly swollen shut, his nose bloody. “Training with you was an honor, Eliana. You are a true warrior.”
“The feeling is mutual, big guy.”
His puffy lip split as he grinned and left the room.
Eliana kept a smile plastered on her face while she offered more goodbyes and teasing comments to the rest of the soldiers, never letting on that every breath she took felt like someone was shoving daggers into her chest. She definitely sported at least a couple of broken ribs. She might have suffered a few sprains, too. Maarev’s hands were like freaking bowling balls. But she couldn’t let them see it or they’d start babying her and refuse to spar with her again.
Dagon stood on the other side of the room, his big arms crossed over his broad, muscled chest. He looked grim as hell. And she couldn’t be more enamored of him. He had allowed her to train with his men today, respecting her ability to hold her own in a fight despite her diminutive size. That was an incredible turn-on. Even a few of her fellow Immortal Guardians failed to give her that, treating her like the delicate flower she’d mentioned earlier. It was why she had enjoyed hunting with Stanislav and Yuri so much in New York, then with Nick and Rafe in Texas. Had they been with her now, the most those four immortal males would’ve done was offer her a handkerchief to wipe the blood from her face. She had always been able to trust them to do what Dagon did—treat her like an equal.
Yet she had never felt for them what she felt for this Segonian male.
Once the last soldier filed out, Dagon closed the door.
Eliana kept her smile in place as he approached her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” Or she would be soon.
Stopping before her—so close that his wonderful scent enveloped her—he stared down at her. After a moment, he crooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back so he could examine her features. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, which was puffy and sore from one of the blows she had failed to duck.
Her breath halted at the sweet caress. Her heart began to pound against her aching ribs. How she wanted to rise onto her toes and kiss him, sore lip and all. She could not recall ever having wanted a man so much and finally felt free to act upon it. But she was all sweaty and bloody and gross.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his deep voice soft.
“I’m sure.” She curled the fingers of one hand around his wrist and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. For not interfering and for trusting me to hold my own.”
His lips curled in an irresistible smile. “Maarev isn’t the only one who packs a srul of a punch.”
She laughed. “Damn straight.” He didn’t know the half of it. She had actually held back when she struck the other warriors, knowing a punch delivered with preternatural strength could kill them.
Much to her delight, Dagon drew her into a gentle hug, then left his arm around her as he guided her to the door, his big hand sliding down to rest on her back. It felt so good she didn’t even care that he was inadvertently putting pressure on the bruise Efren had left with his staff.
“Maarev and Liden will feel my punches when we train together tomorrow,” he muttered.
“You’ve already punched Maarev once on my behalf.”
He grunted. “Once was not enough.”
She laughed, then wished she hadn’t as pain sliced through her. “Just don’t beat him so badly that he—or any of the other soldiers—won’t wish to train with me anymore.”
He halted. “You wish to train with them again?”
“Of course.”
Dread crept into his handsome features. “Did you train on the Kandovar?”
“Several times a week.”
“With whom?”
“My fellow Immortal Guardians. And with a few of the female Lasarans. But I had to hold back quite a bit with the latter. I didn’t think the Lasarans would appreciate it if I accidentally landed one of their women in the infirmary.” She shrugged. “I don’t have to hold back as much with your guys, so I’d like to keep training with them.”
His dark brows flew up. “You held back while fighting Maarev and Liden?”
“Yes.”
“Efren, too?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her with an almost comical look of disbelief.
She grinned, silently cursing when her damn lip split again. “I told you. I’m stronger than I look.”
“Yes, you are.” There was no mistaking the admiration in his gaze as it traveled down her body like a bold caress.
Eliana reveled in the warmth it generated inside her, happy to let it distract her from the pain.
Turning away, he opened the door. “Perhaps we should have Adaos check your injuries just to be safe.”
She waved away his concern. “I’m fine, Dagon. Seriously. I’ve lived through thousands of battles. This was nothing.” It really wasn’t. Psychotic vampires armed with blades had done far worse to her in the past, as had humans armed with guns.