Page 16 of Lone Wolf

“Okay, Frostbite,” I tell her, deliberately provocative, “then you can be mine, and I’ll take the front seat.” I cup my hands like I’m holding an imaginary steering wheel, hamming it up for the audience. There’s a ripple of laughter.

“Stop calling me that,” she snaps.

“None of this is up for debate.” Lyssa’s voice is loud and impatient. “And if you two don’t shut the fuck up, you’re both out.” It’s enough to silence us. “Okay. Clear the mats. We’re doing this in rounds, two-vee-two, so we can see what you’ve got.”

Ariadne and I move to help form the circle and watch the first two pairs square off in the middle. In the center, the four circle each other, testing defenses, looking for openings. The sounds of combat resume—the quick shuffle of feet, the sharp exhale of breath with each strike, the thud of bodies hitting the mats.

But my attention is focused on Ariadne. I can feel the tension in her body even as she stands next to me. She wants to be in there, is impatient to show what she can do.

Good. Because we need to kick some major ass today. Buttogether.

“You looking forward to this, Frostbite?” Enzo asks. He’s sidled up behind us, leaning down from his superior height to drawl into Ariadne’s ear.

“Don’t call me that,” Ariadne says calmly, not even looking at him.

Enzo starts hummingFrosty the Snowmanunder his breath, and I have to clench my fists tight not to turn around and punch this motherfucker in the nose. “Can you not?” I hiss. “Some of us are trying to focus.”

I’m irrationally pissed, even though I’m the one who started that stupid nickname. And now I feel like an asshole about it.

At least Enzo fucks off, still humming, back to his partner—Vanessa, who is twirling her hair and smiling up at him like he’s a comic genius. Her laugh, high and artificial, carries around the circle.

Unfortunately, when our names get called, the pair we’re sparring with is, of course, Enzo and Vanessa. “Don’t kill him,” I mutter at Ariadne as we head into the middle of the mats. “Not in front of Hadria, at least.” I spare a moment’s glance to where Hadria sits, her attention now fixed on our quartet.

“Try to keep out of my way,” is all she says back.

Lyssa calls a start, and Enzo rushes Ariadne at once, predictable and poorly judged. His bulk moves with surprising speed, but there’s no finesse to it, just raw aggression. Ariadne pulls into a defensive stance, precise and calculated like everything she does.Her weight shifts subtly, hands rising to guard position, her expression never changing.

Me? I move on instinct. I know my forms are shit, my technique sloppy, but it’s because I need to follow my gut. My body knows what to do before my mind can process it, my experience in street fighting and my survival instincts taking over. So with Enzo charging like a bull at a red rag, I spring forward just like him, diving low to trip him before he reaches Ariadne.

He falls hard, awkward, and rolls a few feet before staggering to his feet, dazed?—

Only to find Ariadne’s foot driving into his gut. He flies a few more feet, lands on his back, and gives out a wheezing choke, winded.

“Nice one, partner,” I say brightly, springing back to my feet. Our eyes meet for a split second, and I swear I see something like surprise in hers, quickly masked.

We both turn on Vanessa. She’s been trying to flank Ariadne, but I’m already there, ready to meet her strike with my arm, so it goes glancing off. The impact vibrates up my forearm, but I barely feel it through the rush of combat high.

Enzo is up again, more cautious this time. He and Vanessa regroup, and all around me the recruits—who have been hollering and hooting the other matches—grow silent. Almost like they’re holding a collective breath.

The only sounds for the next few seconds are the strike of hand on flesh, foot to gut, pants and grunts as Ariadne and I figure out this deadly dance. Because that’s what it is: a dance. We’re not really fighting, the two of us. We’re dancing.

Flirting, even.

I duck, and without looking, I know she’ll be there to strike high. She blocks, and instinctively I’m moving to exploit the opening she’s created. She steps left, I step right, creating a perfect flanking maneuver that leaves our opponents confused.

We’re toying with our prey, both of us together. We might have started out trying to impress Hadria, but now?

Now we’re trying to impress each other.

Pretty soon Enzo is on the floor again, not getting up this time, and I have Vanessa in a hold on the mats with her arms pulled back.

“What was that about getting in your way?” I ask Ariadne with a grin. And I can see it in her eyes—the surprise.

The confusion.

We didn’t just move well together. We wereunstoppabletogether. And she knows it.

“Enough,” Lyssa says. “Next pairs.”

---