True Connection (The Soul Mate Series) (32 page)

             
I look at Caine from the corner of my eye. He’s standing in the clearing with his arms across his chest, glaring my way. I shiver and look down at the knife in my hand. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

             
The blade is double edged and black, about as long as my hand, and in the sunlight, it glitters. I lift it closer to my face, and there’re crystals imbedded in the blade that would cause the glittering effect. I also see a skull with odd shaped teeth etched into the blade near the handle. My eyes travel down to the handle, it’s black wood with smoothed symbols carved into it.

             
“This is a very effective weapon against devuxen. If given the opportunity, it’ll be the only way
you
can kill one,” Avan says as Caine approaches us.

             
I swallow and disregard some of his words. “It’s very pretty...”

             
“It’s not meant to be pretty,” Caine snaps. I flinch and look away.

             
“I had to transform it, but it will work,” Avan says. “You just need to keep your hands firmly on the Mpingo hilt. Do not allow yourself to be cut by it.” Oh sure, no pressure or anything
.
He turns to Caine. “She’s all yours,” he says and walks back to his makeshift table.

             
“Come,” Caine says and motions with two of his fingers for me to follow him. He stops us in the clearing, turns on his heel, and walks straight at me silently. Between his movements and the look on his face, I take a step back, shying away from him. He makes a strange noise in the back of his throat and grabs my hand that’s holding the knife. “Like this,” he says with an annoyed sigh and repositions the knife. “Feet shoulder width apart,” he commands. My mind reels with sarcastic remarks but I did as I was told.

             
He is helping me, he is teaching me.
I repeat these words to myself silently, trying to tamp out the rebellious and frightened parts of me.

             
“Arms like this, at the ready.” He takes a step back and holds his arms how he’d like me to.

             
I mimic him. At least, I think I do. He drops his arms and walks over to me inspecting my position. He circles behind me and presses his palm between my shoulder blades, forcing me to straighten my posture. Next, he presses the backs of my knees, and I bend them. It’s not comfortable, but not uncomfortable to stand this way.

             
“For now, I will show you movements, I want you to copy. Once you have them down, we’ll interact together,” he says, moving diagonal to me, but still face to face.

             
I drop my hands and straighten my knees. He glares at me.

             
“Interact together?” I repeat. “You mean you want me to fight y-you?” I stutter. “I could hurt you with this thing!” I wave the knife.

             
“You won’t have the chance for that,” he says harshly and motions me to move back into my position. “I have trained many warriors and not been harmed in training,” he says.

             
My mind reels again as I shift my body back into the position he put me in a moment ago. It’s easy enough to see his movements and copy them. It reminds me of the time, Mom and Sophie dragged me along to some dance class last year. It wasn’t hard, especially with the mirrored wall behind the instructor, you caught every movement. I just didn’t have time to go often.

             
This, I have to get it and get it all the first time. I won’t have a redo next week.

             
I push the memories away and focus on Caine’s movements.

             
He takes me through a series of movements that I think are defensive. It mostly involves the arms, but he’s incorporated the legs in an artful manner. After the third time repeating the same movements, I stop watching his body and move my eyes to his face.

             
Mistake.

             
He’s still glaring at me with hatred. I must totally suck at this.
How am I supposed to rescue my family effectively, if I can’t even follow simple moves like this?

             
I try to mimic his exact movement for a side kick and trip over myself. As my face nears the ground, arms flailing, I release the knife and brace myself for impact. An arm catches me a moment before I touch the ground.

             
“If I were you, I’d focus. You’ll be killed in two minutes or less the way you are now. If I was your attacker just now... You’d never even make it to your family,” Caine spits through a clenched jaw.

             
My body goes rigid but I swallow all the building emotions, fear, sadness, confusion, and panic. I pick up my dagger, as he calls it, and stand in position.

             
“Do you need help with focusing or can we continue,” he speaks down to me in a scolding manner.

             
A part small part of me wants to throw the dagger at him to shut him up. But I ignore it and breathe through my nose. “Continue,” I say through my teeth as tears burn my eyes.

             
“Emotion is a positive thing. Turn it into anger and unleash it,” he says icily as he begins where he left off, but at a faster pace.

             
After twenty minutes, I’m a gross sweaty mess, my ribs are screaming at me, and Seth’s emotions are influencing me more than I’d care to admit.

             
Seth must’ve felt my need as he brings two bottles of water over to us. Caine stops and grabs the bottle Seth hands to him. I fix the gum band in my hair so that all my sweaty locks are off my skin again and chug some water.

             
Seth smirks. “This is kickin’ your ass, think you should slow down?”

             
I glare at him but before I can say anything Caine tosses Seth his empty bottle and claps to get my attention. “Back to it, then,” Caine says. Seth squeezes my arm and kisses my cheek.

             
I wonder where that comment came from. Sure it’s kicking my ass some, but this isn’t remotely close to dancing, volleyball, football, or track and field.

             
“I think you’re ready for the next step,” Caine says.

             
“And what would that be?”

             
“Defending yourself,” he says.

             
My eyes widen. “You’re flat out insane. I am so not ready for that!”

             
“I’ll walk you through it the first time. Just remember the moves you practiced.” He shrugs and stands directly in front of me.

             
I sigh and ready myself in the stance he taught me. He does as he promised and tells me which way he’s striking from, left or right, and punch or kick. The routine he started me off with is pretty much what we’re doing, just together.

             
I panic each time I have to block a hit with both or my right arm. This knife makes everything tricky. Right now, I’m not afraid he’s going to hurt me, I’m afraid I’ll cut him or myself.

             
He backs away, and I take a deep breath to ready myself. I lock eyes with him for just a second, what I see scares me yet again. What is it with this guy? I lower my gaze in time to see his foot lifting. Instead of being smart and preparing for the block, I lock my entire body, squeeze my eyes shut, and brace for a blow that I’m sure will be painful.

             
Snapping fingers ring in my ears. “Concentrate. Focus,” he growls in a tone that makes me shiver.

             
Right, focusing and not on the hate and disgust in his eyes. I nod, and he backs away again.

             
This time I don’t lock eyes with him, I watch his hands and shoulders. I block two hits in a row but forget to glance at his feet. I land on my ass with a jarring thump. Gasping and griping my side, I curse at myself for forgetting his lower movements.

             
When I catch my breath, I stand ready and remind myself to watch his feet as well.

             
I block three hits, side step a kick, and walk straight into a semi-clothesline move. I stumble but catch my balance.

             
“You are weak, even for a human,” he spits and sneers as he comes at me again, causing me to panic. I block a hit, sidestep a kick, and quickly duck the same clothesline attempt as last time. We circle each other, and he comes at me again with a little more force. I block his hit and hiss painfully through my teeth.

             
“You will have no chance against the demons!”

             
Anger spikes through me at his words, and I engage the circling this time.

             
I block hits, duck and sidestep, but somehow I manage to land on my rear. I grunt and get up, again.

             
“You should just ask Fane to put you in a safe house far away from here,” he taunts.

             
It’s damn time for me to try and land a hit or kick. I see him shift a little in his left shoulder and I quickly bring my knee up.
Hit
. His eyes widen in surprise and then quickly form into evil slits. In my excitement, I don’t see his kick coming and it has some force behind it, too. I end up face down in the grass. My ribs are protesting, begging me to stay down. I’m half tempted to listen to them as I huff and try catching my breath.

             
“Fighting like that will get your family killed! Get up!” He yells at me.

             
I feel Seth’s rage, and try harnessing it to add it to my own anger.

             
I push myself up and turn to meet his gaze. I shiver when his gaze unleashes hate again. But I remember what he said. I’ll get my family killed.

             
I glare at him. That will
not
happen!

             
We circle each other again. After a few successful maneuvers on my part, he picks up a little more speed and flattens me again. I groan in frustration and jump up to my feet from my back, in a move I’ve seen Henry make a thousand times.

             
“Again!” I demand, ignoring my screaming injuries.

             
The corners of his mouth twitch and amusement dances in his eyes. This frustrates me even more. I attack on his left side with a kick that he easily deflects as his fist comes towards my face from the right. I was lucky enough to notice just in time to block and continue on. This time, I try incorporating the knife and as I concentrate on not landing a stab, he grabs my throat.

             
I hold my breath and lock my muscles, and he slowly backs away, smirking.

             
We circle again, he moves first, but I see it coming and duck his kick. He sees my knife heading towards him and deflects, again. My knife goes sailing to the dirt as I hit the ground. Not only does it cause me to cry out painfully, something in my mind snaps, causing my vision to completely whiteout. I squeeze my eyes shut, rub my temples, and press my forehead into the grass.

             
Strength builds, anger rises, and determination to knock Caine on his ass, renews. I hold onto those feelings like an arachnophobic holds tight to a shoe. Grabbing my knife, I jump into the ready position and circle Caine, feeling more like a predator than ever before.

             
I let him make the first move and block his shots. He deflects most of mine, but I’m able to land a kick to his side, thigh, and one to his jaw. A few quick maneuvers and I manage to get behind him with my knife to his throat.

             
“Nicely done,” he says as he lowers my arm and turns to look at me.

             
I’m breathing heavily, and he looks like a proud papa. Full blown smile, proud look in his eyes, and he even claps.

             
Shock overflows my senses. My maneuvers worked, and he’s surprisingly normal looking, handsome even, when he smiles.

             
He leans in a little. “Did you feel the snap?”

             
“What?” My brows furrow in confusion.

             
“Like something snapped in your mind.” He grins widely.

             
To mask my confusion and accusation, I kneel down to slip my knife in the holster thingy on my leg. “Yes. How would you know?”

             
“It happens when you’re mated, for shifters and amaranthine, alike. You can tap into any training that your mate has had,” he nudges me.

             
I look up and glare at him. To be honest, it would make sense that I borrowed someone else’s knowledge as I have no idea how I managed to get around him so fast. I glance at Seth. Barry and Flynn are holding his arms, restraining him. I forget about being irritated at Caine, and run over to them.