Page 48 of The Devil's Trials

When we arrive at Ballard, Noah parks in his designated spot near the private training building, and we go inside. I guess he’s not teaching a class today, which means this session is going to be one-on-one.Awesome.

While I don’t love being surrounded by the other trainees, some who look at me as an enemy—or the girl who slept with the enemy—spending time alone with Noah right now gives me nearly as much anxiety.

I dive into my usual warm-up, finding it slightly easier than the first day after ensuring to stretch after my shower last night and when I woke up this morning. Once I’m finished, I meet Noah on the mats, propping my hands on my hips and asking, “What’s on the lesson plan today?”

“I want to work on defensive maneuvers. Let’s start with the basic ones we’ve already gone over as a refresher, then we’ll move into the more complex ones and the transitions into offensive moves.”

Noah attaches padded gloves to his hands and holds them up for me. I spend a few minutes hitting them as directed with closed fists. When my eyes drift upward, he’s already looking at my face.

“What?” I grumble.

The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Your face gets all scrunched up when you concentrate.”

I scowl. “Quit making fun of me.” I land a harder punch against his gloved palm.

“I’m not making fun. It’s cute. And I’m glad to see you’re getting stronger. You have a good amount of power in your punch.”

I should be focused on his compliment of my strength, but the stupid butterflies in my stomach flutter at him calling me cute.

You’re still pissed at him, I remind myself, my eyes narrowing when he throws off the gloves and starts circling me, moving at an easy pace.

“What are you doing now?”

“Focus,” he says in a level tone. “Don’t let me get behind you.”

With a sigh, I narrow my gaze and kick out, attempting to knock him off his feet, but he darts away easily.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he can sneak behind me. Even more so when he sweeps my legs out from under me and takes us both to the ground, pinning me beneath him. It knocks the air out of my lungs, stunning more than hurting me. He swiftly straddles me to trap my hips between his, gripping my wrists tightly with both of his hands and holding them above my head, effectively immobilizing me. My heart slams against my chest, my pulse erratic and my eyes darting between his. He licks his lips, and when his gaze drops to my mouth and stays there a moment too long, panic hits me like an ice-cold tsunami.

He’s going to kiss me.

And I could easily let him. Except…it isn’t fair to him. Not really. Not when there’s someone else who I want so completely that it makes me physically ache.

“You can’t kiss me.” The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush, and Noah freezes above me.

Silence stretches between us, the furrow in his brow making me frown. My heart still pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, but we’re frozen in this moment.

“Why not?”

I shake my head, wanting to look away from him as my eyes burn. “Because I still—” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and open my mouth to try again.

“Because you still love him,” Noah offers.

When I don’t respond, Noah releases and rolls off me, standing and offering me his hand. I take it, and as soon as I’m upright, he lets me go. “Let’s take a break.”

“What? Why?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Why?” he echoes. “Because it’s clear your focus is in the wrong place. And I get it. That’s not me shitting on you. But I can’t be sure you’re in the right headspace for training to fight demons when you’re thinking about—”

“I’m not,” I cut in, and he gives me a doubtful look that slices deep into my chest. “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just…You’re right. I’m not in the right headspace.” I don’t elaborate. Something tells me Noah won’t be too keenon hearing about my dream walking experience with Xander. Honestly, I’d rather not relive it at the moment, either. “I think I just need some air.”

He nods. “Take a walk outside. I have to check on something in the main building, anyway. Meet me back here in ten minutes.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond before crossing the room and tapping his badge against a security panel beside the door. He pulls it open, and I get a quick look inside an empty hallway before the door slams shut.

I exhale a heavy breath and walk to the door to the parking lot, where I stand outside and take measured breaths until the pressure in my chest eases some. Leaning against the cold exterior of the building, I close my eyes, timing my slow inhale, then hold it for the same amount of time before letting it out.

“You can do this,” I tell myself, reaching for the door handle and walking back inside.

The rest of our lesson is tense, but I focus on Noah’s instructions. We go through the defensive routine he showed me at the start of our session at least a dozen times over the next hour, and while I feel I’m getting better at it, he gives no indication of my progress.

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