Page 10 of Red and Her Dragons (Dirty Paranormal Fairytale Haremlan 4)

“Thank you,” I said. “Was that so hard?”

He peeked over his shoulder at me. There was a glint of something in his eyes that hiked up my heart rate. He didn’t say anything. His look said enough. I sucked in a breath and forced more of my recently out-of-control hormones deep down.

“We’re following the leader, the leader, the leader,” he sang.

I laughed again and fell into step behind him as he led the way from the living room to the training room in the basement. As he moved, I couldn’t help my eyes falling to his ass, wrapped in his tight jeans, moving from side to side.

I bit my lip and thought to myself how much I needed this little workout…especially the cold shower afterward.

We made it to the training room in a blink of an eye and I instantly walked to the center of the mat.

Jax’s eyes glinted in delight as I took my ready stance and waited for him to join me. “Careful, darling… you very well might get more than you bargained for.”

“We’ll see. Now shut up and spar with me,” I said.

“With pleasure,” he murmured and took his stance in front of me.

“No powers… and no cheating,” I said.

“You’re no fun.” He smirked.

I chuckled. “I’m still human.”

“I can see that,” he said, letting his eyes drift along my length before returning to my gaze. He sighed wistfully, hamming up the whole desire of using his powers. Though he didn’t normally cheat when it came to sparring—if memory served right—he did love to use his powers. Besides, cheating was more Bret’s forte. “Very well. No powers.”

I nodded and then tried to kick his side, which he expertly blocked.

“Nice try, kitten, but you’ll have to do better than that,” he said. There was a hint of seriousness to him, which reminded me of the good old days.

I glared at him, took a step closer, and threw a right hook. Jax grabbed my arm and tucked it under his then planted a palm strike into my chest. Thankfully he barely hit me. A strike like that, with enough force, could stop a beating heart. But it told me one valuable thing.

I was severely out of practice.

But I wasn’t about to let him get the upper hand. I went to kick out his knee, which he blocked, and then swept my feet out from underneath me. I landed on my back on the matt with him on top of me in an arm lock. When he placed pressure, I patted the mat. He released my arm, and we took our stances again.

“Not bad,” he said. “A little rusty, but not bad.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “A little rusty?”

He shrugged as he took his stance again. “I don’t blame you. It was simply an observation.”

I smirked. “You’ve gotten slower, old man.”

He wasn’t an old man. Quite the opposite. He was probably only five or six years older than me if memory served me correctly. But I knew what he was trying to do, and I was giving him a taste of his own brutal honesty.

“Slow, you say?” he asked. “Maybe I was simply trying to take things at your pace.”

I took my stance, holding my fists in front of my face. “Prove it.”

As he took his stance, the air pulled toward him, surrounding him in a bubble of wind. His feet left the floor as the pull of the wind whipped at my hair. I glared at him.

“I said no powers.” My voice barely carried through the rush of air filling the room.

He winked. “You told me to prove it.”

“Yeah, but not with your powers. I’m still squishy. Remember?” Though it felt like I was screaming, my voice barely came out louder than a whisper.

He still heard me though.

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