Page 38 of Taken to Nobu
With one swift pull, he dislodges my staff and tosses it back so hard I have to take three steps to find my balance again. He wipes one hand across the leather on his chest and I’m pleased to see that it’s torn just a little over the left breast.
“I won’t.” I start to circle him, eyeing his movements, checking for weaknesses. “And what do I get if I don’t?”
“You will explain yourself.”
“If I win this fight, what do I get?” He still seems deeply confused by my request, so I elaborate. “My trainer on the human colony and I would make bets like this all the time. It made it more fun.”
He doesn’t answer immediately, but when I suddenly switch directions, he does too, so quickly it’s as if he’d anticipated it.I must have tells. I must be giving away something. No one’s just that good.
“You will tell me what it is you would like.”
It hits me all at once and I slow, lowering my weapon just a hair. “Your name.”
“Verax,” he says and I can tell he means for me to repeat the question even though the word itself doesn’t translate.
“Your real name. Not Okkari. Not Va’Raku. The name your mother gave you.”
His ridges flash. He nods slightly. “I accept.”
“And what do you want, if you win?”
He slows, but only for a beat, then his pace picks back up again to match my own. “I will take no prize. The date is prize enough.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so lame.”
He comes to a complete stop at that, holds out both arms, looks down at his legs. “Lame. You can see perfectly well that I am not.”
I snort unattractively and resume circling him. “Yes, I can see that. But it’s just another expression. It means you’re boring. Pick a prize. It can be anything you want from me. I don’t have much to give but I’ll give it gladly —ifyou win,” I offer, hoping to high hell he’ll pick the thing I hope he does.And that I’ll lose.
He circles me a beat more, feet moving seamlessly right over left, right over left. He moves like a sand cat, deadly and huge. My stomach lurches. My heart beats harder and faster. I inhale strength — the strength that he leeches — and exhale nerves and fear — those that I felt before at the prospect of ever fighting any alien.But I’ve done this before and when we fought then, it felt incredible.
“I would like to experience a kiss with you.” The request is so unexpected I trip — actually trip. I haven’t tripped in combat since my first training sessions with Jaxal.
“You want to kiss me?”
“I have read about this kiss in Svera’s manual. According to this manual, the kiss should come before the act of mating in human culture. Xiveri mating took precedence in our case, but I would not like to deprive you of this ritual all the same. Deprive either of us.”
I lick my lips automatically and the rumbling I’m familiar with oozes from him to infect the air. “I accept. But onlyifyou win.”
“Of course,” he says, and even though I don’t know him that well, I know he isn’t condescending me. He speaks to me as if I haven’t already seen him fight, as if I wasn’t already prepared to give up something I knew I might lose, as if my winning is a distinct possibility.
And becausehebelieves it, I believe it. And I fight like it too.
I cross the space in a few long strides, legs eating up the distance. He is utterly sure of my movements, I can see that, so I know that I need to do something to catch him off guard. I transfer my spear to my left hand and feint right, waiting until he follows before I kick.
I aim for his thigh, and as he uses his own to swipe my foot aside one elegant sweep, I bring my helos down hard. As I move, I catch sight of white in the ridges dotting his wide forehead. Though the slope of his high cheeks remain unmoved, his wideset nostrils flare and his jaw clenches. He still manages to block with his forearm, but that’s to be expected of any halfway decent warrior and he’s far more than halfway decent.
I hit the ground and spin, the staff’s weight throwing me off but I quickly make the necessary corrections and when I turn to face him, I hit him in the thigh, stroke meeting another one of the thick patches that he’s got growing all over him. I grunt in frustration.
Stupid plates. I accounted for the ones on his chest and forearms, but I forgot the legs. Ribs then, neck, shoulders — groin if I have to. With a quick flick of his staff, he pushes mine away. I spin out of his range, but he isn’t fighting back. Not yet. He’s giving me time to adjust to the weapon. To adjust to fighting him.
I thrust forward. He blocks with his staff, the two distinct pieces of metal and stone coming together with a loud, unceremonious clack. There’s a moment of silence.Grace. His scent swirls around me, making it hard to think.I’m in the oasis. What am I doing fighting here?I shake my head and shrug my shoulders and dive in again. Another effortless block, perfectly timed.
We dance like this for some time, staffs thwacking against one another. Every time I start to find a rhythm, he forces me to break it again and again, until finally, after my dozenth attack,heinitiates.
He charges forward, swinging his staff over his head in a wide arc as he moves. It leaves his chest exposed and I dive for it, but he moves faster than I anticipated and brings his weapon around to tag my left side. Blunt though it is, it’s still hard enough to knock the wind clean out of me.Swallowing asteroid gunk would be easier than taking another hit from him.I bounce back on the balls of my feet, struggling to stay light and agile as I avoid the next blow. But it doesn’t land.
He freezes, falling out of position. “Did I hurt you?” He says in a low, demonic cadence before he starts circling me again.
