Page 18 of Tethered to the World
“It will give us a chance to see if you would be a good fit, test what you can handle.”
But she sensed he wasn’t saying something. “And what do you get out of it?”
Something in his face shut down, his teal eyes flashed, and she instantly regretted her question.
“It will give us time to decide if we can move on as a team or if we’re too broken to continue.” Then he was gone, his long legs putting distance between them, and she worried she’d pushed him too far.
As the house came into view, she couldn’t tear her attention away from the large forest crouched almost protectively behind it. The trees seemed to tower over everything, the building barely able to avoid being swallowed. It looked haunting, like a fairy tale setting, but she wasn’t sure if it was a sunshine and flowers type or a darker tale to warn away the unwary.
The steps up to the house were basic cement, the railings iron. It wasn’t anything fancy. As they entered the house, the first thing she saw was the giant kitchen-dining room combination. Off to the right was an even larger living room space.
The far wall was solid glass, the large sheets actually doors opening up to a huge deck centered around an elaborate fire pit that looked professionally designed. Beyond led into the forest. Even as she studied it, she could see trails heading off in many different directions.
She wasn’t sure if she found the outside area comfy or intimidating. She scoured her memories, but couldn’t remember ever being near something so massive and alien. It took her a while to get used to wide open spaces because she didn’t like feeling exposed, but something about the forest—not being able to see what was coming—made the blackness inside her whirl, and she quickly looked away.
The place was fairly clean, cluttered with books and weights, a few bags, and about a dozen pairs of shoes. Dishes were in the sink, pans cluttered the stove. The fridge was industrial floor-to-ceiling, and she could only gape at the amount of food when Logan opened the doors and helped himself to a beer before he began pulling out ingredients.
She trailed after the guys, a little hesitant about entering their sanctuary—because she was sure that’s what it was to them by the way they relaxed and let down their guard slightly when they passed through the front door.
“You’ll be training with us in the arena later today.” Camden headed straight for the large kitchen table and set the folder on top.
It didn’t take a genius to tell he was pissed about having her in his house. Not that she could blame him. She was a nobody. Rufus shoved her off on them like an unwanted responsibility instead of a prospective team member.
“Tell me about the arena.” Annora lowered her bag to her feet, but didn’t venture into the room any farther, lingering by the counter near the door. Xander joined Camden when he opened the folder and began to go over the paperwork. Logan was busy preparing a massive amount of food, while Mason was at the far counter, seated on a stool as he opened up a laptop.
At her question, he paused and looked up at her. His pale violet eyes seemed to brighten when he saw her. “The arena is where the younger, new recruits go to find out where they should be placed and how we can best use them. It can take years of training before being eligible for a team assignment.”
He spoke absently, focused on the screen in front of him and began typing, but his comment stung. She shifted her feet, feeling awkward, knowing they resented her intrusion in their lives—a freshman with little to no training, skipping ahead of the class because of favoritism—when he spoke again.
“Some kids aren’t cut out for violence and fighting. They’re taken aside and taught the basics, because everyone in this school is trained in self-defense. They are then assigned other tasks that don’t require them to work in the field.” He ran a hand over his hair absently, and she watched the pink strands smooth down as if he could control them with a thought.
She thought over his statement and took it as the warning it was…don’t start shit you can’t finish.
“They’ll go on to work in administration,” Logan offered from where he was working at the stove. He didn’t say it, but from the tone of his voice, he clearly thought it was where she belonged.
While part of her wished she could hide behind a desk and escape the crush of people, she knew it wasn’t an option for her. If she wanted to survive, she needed to be able to fight, and these guys were the best way to learn.
A pan was sizzling with butter as Logan began to dump in ingredients. He grabbed another beer from the fridge, twisted off the top and took another swig. When he moved to stand on the opposite side of the counter from her, she watched him pull out a knife from the block and began chopping vegetables almost faster than she could track.
Mason lifted his head to peer up at her, but she had a feeling he’d been keeping an eye on her the whole time.
But it was Xander who spoke next. “You have very little training and minimal skills, but you’re teachable. You have speed and surprise on your side. We’ll continue to train you in self-defense, but you’re not built for being out in the field.”
She didn’t take it as an insult. She knew her limits. But it didn’t mean she wouldn’t demand more.
Logan glanced up, then flipped the blade he held, catching it by the tip without looking, and offered it to her. “Can you handle a knife?”
“I don’t know.” Annora reached out hesitantly, expecting a trick. She hadn’t been allowed anywhere near sharp weapons, not since she tried to gut her uncle with a sharpened butter knife, and she couldn’t help but smile at the scars he still went out of his way to conceal. “Not well.”
He reached over and adjusted her hold. His hands were so warm, she startled at his touch. Instead of the fire and smoke she expected for someone who had streaks of bright red hair, he smelled of fresh snow. Only after he was satisfied with her hold, did he release her and step back.
Uncertain what she was supposed to do, Annora lifted the knife and twisted it in her grip, getting used to the weight. Logan filched another knife, flipped the smaller blade, then sent it sailing down the hall…where it hit with a heavy thump against the scarred board covering a door.
He gazed at her curiously for a moment, and she realized she probably should’ve flinched at the violence. But she’d spent her whole life keeping her emotions to herself so her uncle couldn’t use them against her. Ever since she escaped, she’d been watching people, taking cues from them about how she should react so she wouldn’t stand out, but it was hard to break a lifetime of habit.
He finally nodded toward her hand, then lifted a brow in challenge.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to square off with the wall, set her feet one behind the other as she would when facing an opponent, then drew back her arm.
