Yeah, yeah. I knew the rules. I wrote the damn book.
“Is that typically how you show gratitude?” I smirked anyway.
“Depends,” she replied with a grin.
“On?”
“Precisely howgratefulI’m feeling.”
I snorted.
“Get your ass up if you wanna spar, harlot.”
Arken groaned as she pushed herself up, hopping to her feet. As much as she liked to whine and complain her way through these training sessions, there was an ever-present glimmer of ambition in her eyes, too. I knew she’d meant it when she said she wanted to be stronger. Truth be told, I don’t think the woman even realized how strong she already was. The minute we got her body caught up with her arcane potential, the Little Conduit was going to be unstoppable. An absolute force to be reckoned with.
I nodded towards the striking bag hanging in the corner of the room, reaching into my other pocket and tossing her a pair of hand wraps.
“Let’s start with positioning again. Go throw some punches at the bag, show me how much you remember from last week.”
“And here I was hoping that you’d be my striking dummy today,” she teased.
“You get mad at me when I’m your target, Ark.”
“Only because you hold yourself back.”
I snorted. “I have to, and you know it. I’m not gonna toss you around like a ragdoll.”
Arken shrugged. “Maybe I’m in the mood to get thrown around a little.”
“Will you shut up and get in position?” I groaned. Gods, she was such a tease—and truly in rare form today.
The devious creature simply giggled, traipsing over to the striking bag with a spring in her step that suggested she knew damn well what she was doing to me. I shook my head, taking a swig from my waterskin as I observed.
As Arken threw her first few punches, her stance was decent. A bit wide, maybe. When my gaze drifted over the lower half of her body, I was briefly lost to a moment’s worth of self-indulgence. In my defense, it was a damn fine view. Gods, those thighs. Coated in the soft, supple leather of the training leggings I’d bought her, every last curve of Arken’s generous hips, her ample thighs, and that frustratingly flawless ass of hers were on perfect display.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I forced my eyes to flick back up and—oh, fucking Hel.
Without really intending to, my eyes had zeroed in on her neck, the elegant and pale length of it exposed as she had tied her dark curls back in a high, perky ponytail. What I hadn’t quite expected was the way a single droplet of sweat, trickling down from behind her ear, would send a pulsing wave of heat to my core. I typically had better self-control than to re-interpret her breathlessness, her pinkened cheeks, or any amount of sweat from these training sessions for my own deviant devices, but my mind was feeling rather… creative at the moment. Arken’s tongue had been filthier than usual this afternoon.
I couldn’t help but wonder if that had anything to do with the fact that she’d inadvertently caught me taking someone home for the night last week—when she and Laurel had decided to try out a new tavern, stumbling into one ofmydomains of distraction.
Ark had been a bit dry with me the next morning, but I’d honestly thought very little of it at the time. I hadn’t really interpreted it as envy, considering it took me all of five seconds to get her laughing again, comfortably back in her good graces. Platonic agreements aside, today’s attitude felt a bit less like envy, and more likeretribution.
Two can play that game, Little Conduit.
A few short strides took me from where I’d been observing, to mere inches away from Arken’s personal space. Gently, I kicked at her left angle with the side of my boot.
“A little too wide. You want your feet planted even with your hips, under your shoulders—to keep you balanced,” I instructed.
Arken stuck her tongue out at me, but complied without any additional sass. Biting my own tongue, I attempted to actually focus on helping her now, as opposed to undressing her with my eyes, and so I continued to inspect her posture, her positioning, and the way she moved while beating up the striking bag.
I wasn’t trying to teach her how tofight,per se—that would be the job of her Physical Arcana instructors. That said, a bit of boxing would help her build endurance and some muscle—and she would need both in order for her body to contend with arcane combat.
“Aht—” I said sharply, catching her left fist before it struck the bag. “What did I tell you about tucking your thumb in like that?”
I spread Arken’s small hand out flat with my own, the size and color contrast between us a bit comical. I curled her fingersback, guiding her thumbatopher fisted fingers, not beneath them.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, brow furrowing. “Sorry.”