Page 161 of The Rogue's Curse

But the vicious bite never came, just the whisper of lips as he pulled away.“You should cut your hair,” he said, surreptitiously swiping his nose. At least she’d gotten a solid few hits in.

She pulled back and ran a hand over the fat, silky braid. “I like my hair. It looks like my mother’s.” Her hair was brilliant red, just like the mother she’d never met. Not a single drop of dye had gone into the fiery red color, which was one of her few vanities. It was one of the only connections she had to her family, and she refused to change it.

His lips parted for a moment. “It does look like hers,” he finally said. He reached out, twining the loose ends under the elastic around his fingers. “Make sure you pin it up before you go in the field. I could have ripped it right off your head.”

“I will.” Then she sheathed her blade. “Shall we go again?”

“You want me to kick your ass again?” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. “All right. Come and get it.”

Half an hour later,she was panting and spitting a mouthful of blood on the grass as Armina Voss strolled across the moonlit lawn. The scent of her magic, dark and old, swept through the air and teased at Scarlett’s senses. Tante Mina’s power had always unsettled her, even though she assured Scarlett it was good magic, wielded for the good of humanity.

Good magic apparently smelled like death and decay, things Scarlett had brushed against all too frequently lately.

“That’s enough,” Mina said, her brow furrowing. “Scarlett, come.”

She lurched to her feet and brushed past Kova and into her aunt’s grasp. Standing six inches shorter than Scarlett, the older witch was petite, with a brittleness that she hid with her graceful steps and regal posture. But her presence felt massive, as if raw power radiated from her to the edges of the property, through the sky and down into the earth.

Her bejeweled hand tilted Scarlett’s face back and forth, her thumb brushing over Scarlett’s split lower lip. “How did she do?” Mina asked.

“Mediocre,” Kova said.

Anger burned in Scarlett’s chest, and she watched as Tante Mina glanced at the vampire, then back to Scarlett. “Do you agree?” she asked.

Scarlett glanced at Kova and considered challenging him. Then she sighed and said, “I agree. He could have killed me.”

Mina released her jaw and said, “The time is coming. You must be at your best to face him.”

“I know,” Scarlett said mildly. Two more weeks. Everything would change in two weeks.

The older woman’s dark eyes scraped over her from head to toe, leaving Scarlett feeling as if she was naked in a winter wind. Then she gestured dismissively and said, “Go finish your conditioning. You can come and eat dinner with me when you’ve finished. Kova, push her.”

At that, the vampire nodded, and beckoned for Scarlett to follow. A vague sense of shame hung on her like a mantle as she followed Kova down to the far edge of the secluded property, to the darkened trailhead. “Run,” Kova said, his voice low and dangerous.

She broke into a sprint, her sharp eyes resolving the shapes of the rocks and trees ahead. Each stride had her practically flying over the earth, nimbly taking the turns, dodging roots and rocks. Her heart pounded, her lungs working to keep up.

Breathe, she told herself. Kova’s feet behind her were strangely sporadic; he was using his damned vampire strength. Three or four heavy footfalls, then a long silence as he leaped through the air.

He slammed down in front of her. She ducked his grasping arms, planted her feet, and turned abruptly to run the other way.

Fighting was much more fun than this. Her chest burned, and her legs ached with the effort. But she’d learned long ago not to ask for mercy, nor to give up. Kova would shove her face in the dirt and report back to Tante Mina that she’d slacked off.

This was for her own good, they’d both say.

This was different than training days in the gym, when she could dissociate while she sprinted on a treadmill. Right now, she had to keep her mind focused,maintaining a constant awareness of Kova’s position. Even when he was moving through the trees above her, she knew where he was. It took all of her concentration to keep moving; if she let herself drift for even a moment, she’d instinctively slow down and get caught.

Vampires don’t like to admit it, but dhampir are just as fast and strong as us in short bursts, he’d taught her long ago. But her body still had some of the limitations of her human half; she needed oxygen, needed food to fuel her. When she’d pointed this out, he’d just laughed and told her that no fight would ever last long enough for that to be a problem. All the training was to keep her sharp and disciplined, but the fight with Julian—the fight she’d been anticipating for more than ten years—would be over in minutes, if not mere seconds.

Finally, Kova’s voice rang out with the code word: “#Stop,” he said in Russian.

She slowed gradually, then kept walking up the trail, catching the glimpse of the low lights around the house through the trees. Her stomach roiled, her lungs searing in her chest. As she struggled to catch her breath, Kova jogged up beside her. Sweat dripped from his hair, but with no need for breath, he was still as ever.

Cheating jerk. If she didn’t need oxygen, she might have looked just as calm and composed.

He patted her shoulder. “Good job,” he said.

At least she hadn’t eaten since her small lunch, or she might have thrown up on his shoes. She sucked in a sharp breath, held it, and let it go. Fighting to control her voice, she asked,“Do you think I’m ready?”

He was quiet for a long while as they walked back toward the house.Finally, he said, “I think you’re as ready as you can be. For a dhampir, I mean.”

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