Page 88 of Cerulean Truth
He. Took. Off. His. Shirt.
I swallowed hard.
Although I had always managed to stay professional in every work-related-situation—like during a week-long porn-marathon—I was only human. Well…a maga, technically, but human, nonetheless. And when faced with a guy like him, shirtless and ready to train me… I found myself struggling to...well, I was simply not...
I sighed. I really had to tear my eyes away from his chiseled abs if there was to be any hope of me regaining some coherence.
James flexed his right forearm, the one completely covered by his tattoo. I clutched my weapon more tightly, trying not to be too distracted by the muscles on display. It took less than a second for his Skindo to “shoot out” from his tattoo and into his right hand. But instead of holding on to it, he translated both his and mine to the corner of the room.
“We’ll focus on close combat first. Skindo’s later. Get into position,” he ordered.Great Gods.Ihatedhis commanding tone. Half our time was spent bickering about exactly that.
"Oh, James," I said, as if I'd just remembered something important. "I'm so sorry about that head injury."
James eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"You know... the one that made you forget about the existence of the word 'please'?"
His eyes turned ice-cold, and a slight shiver ran through me. He was rather intimidating, even scary, whenever he got like that. No idea why it sort of turned me on to provoke him.
We continued in silence, advancing further.
Once we started circling the mat, I moved with all the grace of a drunk duck stuck in an acid trip. James however, who looked like he could bench press a truck, attacked me with the perseverance of a Swiftie armed with a backstage pass.
It might’ve helped to stop thinking of metaphors instead of remembering all the fighting techniques he’d imparted.
With each punch and kick, I tried to recall what James had said about tactics, quickly realizing to duck and cover was probably my most reliable go-to strategy. I knew he wanted me to be a tough cookie, but honestly, for the last few months in this new world, I’d been feeling more like a piece of chocolate cake, trying to survive snack-time in kindergarten.
"Keep your hands up," James ordered.
I tried to focus, but my mind was all over the place.
"And don’t take your eyes off me."
Trust me, that was impossible.
"Now tell me—what’s the LiaPrism?"
I blinked, lowering my hands for a split second. "What?"
Without missing a beat, James pounded his fist against my arm.
“Ouch! That hurt!”
"I said keep your hands up! And, for fuck’s sake, answer the question."
An oral exam during sparring? You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Just answer the question, Emma, and keep your fists up.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah, like that. Now, tell me about the prism.”
“It’s ridiculous to ask about this in the middle of a fight.”
“It’s ridiculous for you to argue right now.” His voice was sharp. “Knowledge makes the difference between life and death. This is important.”
“Oh, so knowing about the prism is supposed to save my life?”
