Page 46 of Dark Embers

I turned off the machine, slowing my jog until the track stopped, then I plucked my water bottle from my bag and walked her way, chugging the liquid as I did.

She didn’t look at me as I approached, nor did she stop punching and leave as I expected.

“Don’t lock your elbow,” I said, stopping behind her.

She halted her assault and turned to me, pushing a loose strand of blue hair from her damp forehead with her glove. “What?” she asked in an irritated tone.

“Your elbow,” I said, gesturing to her with the hand that held my bottle. “You’re locking it straight out when you punch, but if you do that in an actual fight, you could break the joint. You want to always keep a little bend in it.”

The hostility in her narrowed eyes faded as she regarded me. “Oh. Thanks.”

I nodded, my lips pursed into a flat line. She took a long breath in and out through her nose while she looked at me for a moment longer.

“Anything else you want to point out?” she asked finally. “I mean, I definitely don’t want to hurt myself in the process of training, so…”

I cocked my head. “I don’t know. Go ahead and hit some more, and I’ll let you know.”

She took a few swings at the bag, hitting a spot just a few inches lower than face-level.

“Pause,” I instructed, and she did, looking over her shoulder at me expectantly. “You’re aiming a little too low. If you actually punched someone like that, you’d hit them in the throat instead of the face. Not that it’s a bad tactic to hit someone in the throat, but that takes a different kind of punch. So for now, let’s focus on the face.”

I came up behind her, placing my hands on the base of her gloves and situating them an inch away from her cheeks.

“If you make a practice of keeping your fists here, not only is it easier to aim for your opponent’s face, but it also protects yours from them,” I said.

Our eyes met for a moment, but I forcibly broke the connection, dropping my hands and stepping away from her. She turned back toward the bag and swung her fist, this time hitting the bag at face level.

“Perfect,” I praised.

She threw a few more punches, repeatedly hitting the same spot.

“Don’t let your resting hand lower from its position when it’s not extended,” I directed. “I know it’s hard to remember to keep them raised and they get tired, but you need to protect your face. It’s called keeping your guard.”

She nodded, raising her fists back up to where I’d guided them.

“Good,” I said.

After a few more minutes of pretty excellent form and execution, she dropped her arms and stepped back, panting. I offered my water bottle to her, and she eyed me for a moment before accepting it and finishing it off.

“Thanks,” she panted, handing the empty bottle back to me.

“You did pretty good,” I said. “Keep that form and you’ll be a real contender in class.”

She tipped her head in denial. “Maybe, but punching won’t help me against a vampire.” She shook her head. “If I couldn’t beat a simulation, I don’t stand a chance against a real one.”

I furrowed my brow, an idea forming in my mind. “Do you want to watch me beat a sim?”

Surprise brightened her blue eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I need more practice anyway if I’m going to test out, which I absolutely intend to do.”

“Okay, then. Sure.” She shrugged, feigning indifference even as the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her—shereallywanted to watch me.

I’d never had an audience while training in a sim before, and knowing that Arya would be the first one felt oddly intimate. Like I was inviting her to watch me jerk off or something. It excited me, but it also made me feel self-conscious.

It meant I had to be on top of my game. And as she followed me to the Simulation Room, I felt something that only this girl seemed capable of making me feel—insecurity.

Chapter 17

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