“You’re fast,” he remarked. “And nimble. You’re better off running from an attacker than fighting them.”
“Sometimes, that’s not an option.”
“I know, but you should know that flight should be your first response.”
Lexi stopped moving. “I’m tougher than I look.”
Brokk stopped too and stood staring at her. “Yes, but so are most supernaturals, and, unfortunately, you aren’t as strong as most of them. Like it or not, being half human makes you weaker than a full immortal.”
She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t deny the truth.
“Okay, so I’ll run first,” she said.
Not likely, but she kept that to herself as Brokk wouldn’t approve. The look on his face said he didn’t believe her.
“Don’t get yourself killed,” he said.
The concern in his voice gave her pause. As Cole’s mate, his life hinged on hers, and Brokk cared too much for his brother to risk seeing what would become of him if she died. Not all lycans perished when their mates did, but none of them were the same afterward.
She’d never seen a mateless lycan, but she’d heard they were nothing more than walking shadows of their former selves. Shadows that were better off dead.
Many lycans preferred death and embraced it when they lost their mate. She didn’t know what they did to meet their end, and she didn’t want to know. It sounded awful, and she did not want Cole to experience it.
Maybe, because he was also half fae, Cole wouldn’t suffer as much as a purebred lycan if she died. She hoped he never learned the answer as she really liked her life.
“I’m going to stick around for a very long time,” she assured him. “Now, show me what else to do.”
She started moving around him again, and after a brief hesitation, he fell into step with her.
“We’ll start building up your strength and endurance tomorrow,” he said. “You work with the horses, so I’m sure you’re already strong, but we’ll make you stronger. Also, get ready to start running… a lot.”
“I’m ready.”
He feigned a punch to her head, and she slapped it aside before his fist tapped her stomach. If it were anyone else, the blow would have knocked her on her ass, but it was meant to reveal one of her weaknesses.
“Do you have the potion Sahira created?” he asked.
Lexi tapped her jeans pocket. The potion that would eat the skin from anything it touched was tucked securely away. Sahira had cast a spell over the bottle to keep it from breaking by accident.
She felt better having it on her, but she might not get it free in time to use it on someone, or something else could go wrong. She tried not to think about those possibilities; doubt wouldn’t do her any good.
“We’ll also start training with weapons. You’ll be at a disadvantage strength and powers wise, but if we can find a weapon you excel at using, it will give you an advantage.”
“I like that idea.”
He smiled at her before disappearing. Lexi’s hands lowered as she stared at the spot where he’d stood. Then fingers tapped her right shoulder. She spun to find him standing behind her. He tapped her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
“Hands up,” he said.
She put her hands up and kicked out in the fast, crisp way he taught her earlier. He slapped her foot down before coming at her from the side again.
“What’s going on here?”
Lexi spun at Sahira’s question. She grinned at her aunt, who gazed between her and Brokk with open disapproval.
“Brokk is teaching me how to defend myself,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sahira replied.
“Why not?”
“It’s not appropriate for women to fight.”
“Maybe it wasn’t appropriate a couple of hundred years ago, but times have changed, Sahira,” Lexi said.
A muscle twitched in Sahira’s cheek. “You could get hurt doing this.”
“I could, but not being able to defend myself, especially if Malakai returns, will get me hurt.”
Sahira didn’t back down. “Your father wouldn’t approve of this.”
Lexi suppressed a wince as her words cut deep. Sahira always knew where to strike to get a response from her, but it didn’t matter. She’d already made up her mind. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life defenseless and hoping someone else would save her.
She got lucky Cole arrived when he did during Malakai’s attack. She probably wouldn’t be so fortunate next time.
“My dad is dead, and I refuse to have someone watching over me twenty-four seven. Refuse,” she emphasized. “Besides, it’s impossible for that to happen. Maybe my dad wouldn’t approve of me learning to fight, but he’d approve less of me being raped, forced into marriage, or killed because I couldn’t fend off an attacker.”
Sahira’s mouth closed, and her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t protest any further. “Be careful.”
“I will,” Lexi promised, and Brokk’s fingers brushed the side of her head, drawing her attention back to him.
“Hands up,” he said, and they started their dance again.
Though she disapproved, Sahira crossed her arms over her chest while she watched them.
Chapter Twenty-One
The tunnel was so black Cole couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. There were no shadows here. For there to be shadows, there had to be light.
The lack of shadows had to be a test as the dark fae thrived in their presence. He missed the shadows and his ability to see.
For his entire six hundred and seventy-two years, he’d never been in a place as dark as this. Bringing his fingers to his face, he touched the corners of his eyes to make sure they were still there.
Without his eyes to guide him, he relied heavily on his other senses. Straining to hear, he tried to detect the presence of something else within the passageway, but the crunch of his footsteps against the rock was the only sound.
He didn’t know if the others had entered behind him; he didn’t bother to look back. It would be pointless. When he stopped to listen, he didn’t hear their footsteps or breaths.
It wouldn’t astound him to learn there were numerous tunnels and somehow the realm had made each of them traverse a separate one. Or that the trials were changing around them to accommodate their number.
He couldn’t see, but his instincts guided him onward, and he didn’t have to put out his hands to keep him from walking into the rocky walls. So far, they had guided him well as he made his way through twists and turns.
When he turned a corner, the sound became more muffled as the walls closed in around him. Jagged bits of stone brushed against his skin, tugged at his clothes, and scraped the top of his head as he bent to avoid smacking into a low-hanging rock.
Cole’s steps slowed as he strained to hear more while his eyes darted uselessly back and forth. Stopping, he rested his hand against the cool stone.
Something dripped somewhere ahead of him. It was a low, hollow pinging sound barely discernible over his breaths.
Sensing something was coming, he edged cautiously forward. He didn’t pick his feet up off the ground as he shuffled into the darkness. The wall curved beneath his fingertips, a stone grazed his temple, and with his next shuffling step forward, the rock changed.