Chapter 12
For two days of mind-numbing boredom observing Thorn Wylder, I had mulled over several of Remy's comments. Grudgingly, I had to admit he made some sense, especially about never being without a weapon. I loved my bow but carrying it and a quiver everywhere I went really wasn't practical.
Remy's concern over my safety had been kind of sweet, but he probably just thought it would reflect poorly on him if I got myself killed. I'd return his knife as soon as I saw him, but in the meantime, I bought an inexpensive one from a market vendor who claimed it was perfect for someone small like me.
So here I was in the guild house basement, trying to teach myself how to use a knife. It was a hell of a lot harder than it looked, and I was having no success.
Given how good I was with a bow, my aim shouldn't have been a problem, but it was. The knife wobbled alarmingly in the air and smacked into the wall anywhere but the target. When it reached the wall at all. And I didn't think it had ever even hit the wall with the pointy end. If my aim got better, the best I could hope for was to knock my opponent out by hitting him in the head with the handle.
Standing with hands on hips, I glared at the uncooperative utensil as it bounced off the wall yet again. A sudden crunch startled me, and I spun around. Remy leaned casually in the doorway, ankles crossed and eating an apple. He wore a dark vest over a linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms. I transferred my glare from the knife to him. I hadn't heard him arrive, and I wondered again what he was. Humans rarely moved that silently. Worse, I wondered how much of my incompetence he had observed.
"Don't let me interrupt," he said with a wicked smile. Crunch.
Embarrassment overcame intellect, and I snapped, "I bet you're no better."
His laughter turned to sputtering coughs as the apple went down the wrong way. He thumped his chest a few times before wiping his eyes. I wasn't sure if they were tears of laughter or choking. Probably laughter. If I were honest, my knife skills were pathetically funny.
Without another word, Remy tossed the apple in the air, drew a blade from somewhere and threw it, slicing the apple cleanly in two. Then he caught the knife and apple halves before they hit the ground. I gawped at him. His movement was so fast, I had barely been able to follow it.
I shut my mouth with a click. "What are you?"
"Shifter."
"The dancing bear in our circus was a shifter, not a real bear."
A line appeared between Remy's eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth turned down. "That's a demeaning job for a shifter."
I rolled my eyes. "And being a thief isn't?"
"Course not." The knife vanished, and he held out half of the apple. "Apple?"
I shook my head. Even though Manso wasn't as tall as Ralph, he was practically as wide. "I thought all shifters were monstrous slabs of muscle."
"Are you saying I'm scrawny?"
"No." I flapped my hand around. "Forget it." Remy was anything but scrawny. He was lithe, but it was obvious that he was muscled underneath his shirt and close-fitting pants. Not that I would let him know I'd noticed.
He leaned against the wall again. "Our animals have some effect on our human shapes. We're not all the same."
"Let me guess. You're a snake."
He laughed and took another bite of apple, white teeth flashing. "Show me what you've got." He waved at the target.
"Go away. You'll just laugh." I twisted the knife in my fingers and stared down at it.
"No, I won't. I promise."
I turned back to the target and carefully lined up my knife, squinting down its length. Then I let it fly. The blade flipped anemically a few times before clinking off the wall and clattering to the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid to look at Remy and see the scorn in his eyes.
When I opened them, he was picking up my knife and bouncing it on his palm. His expression was definitely scornful, but it appeared to be directed at my knife rather than me.
"Where did you get this piece of crap?"
I snatched it from his hand. "From a vendor in the marketplace. He said it was perfect for someone my size."
Remy snorted and grabbed it back. "The balance is all wrong and it will never stay sharp. He saw you coming from a mile away." He tossed the knife into a corner of the room and took out one of his own. "Try this."
It was small and sleek, with a single, wicked-looking edge. I took it gingerly, turned at the waist, and cocked my arm back to throw.
"Stop!" he said and stepped behind me. "You're throwing a knife, not shooting an arrow."
He reached down and put his hands on my hips, turning me to face the wall. An electric jolt ran through me at his touch, and I all but dropped the knife. He adjusted my stance, nudging one foot slightly forward and shifting my weight to the back. I could feel the heat of his body against mine and a flush crept across my cheeks. My breaths became shallow, and I was keenly aware of each brush of his long, elegant fingers.
Leaning forward, Remy closed one hand over mine to turn the knife in my grasp, and his breath feathered across my cheek. He smelled good, like cedar and apples, and my heart raced. He slowly moved my hand in an arc and pushed my weight onto my front leg with his hard torso.
"Shift forward like that as you throw," he murmured in my ear.
The sudden wave of desire I felt from his proximity caught me by surprise. The way he moved, the way his clothing clung to his body, the way his keen gaze pierced me… I'd found all of that appealing, but this acute craving for his caress was unexpected.
His hair tickled my neck, and it was all I could do not to press back and rub against him. He stepped away, and I felt a sudden chill as if the room's warmth had left with him.
"Now," he said softly. "Throw it."
I flung the knife, barely aware of its flight through the air or where it landed. All I could think about was Remy's touch, and how despite my determination to ignore it, I was feeling aroused—an unfamiliar flutter that was both exciting and embarrassing.
My head was spinning as I turned around and met Remy's gaze, wondering if he had felt what I had or if it had been all in my imagination. His lips were curved in a faint smile, and he pointed to the target. Looking back, I saw the knife stuck in the target. Not close to the bullseye, but plainly in the target, with the sharp end pointed in the right direction.
I gave a little squeak. "I hit the target!"
"You did indeed."
Looking back at him, my breath caught as I realized just how close his face was to mine. His blue eyes watched me with an intensity that seemed to sear through my skin and into my soul. All rational thought fled as I reached up with trembling fingers and traced the curve of his stubbled cheek. His lashes lowered, and I felt a tremor go through his jaw.
I swallowed hard and before I could think better of it, I stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the lips. He hesitated for a moment before sliding an arm around my waist and pulling me closer. His other hand slipped up to cup my face, and he kissed me back with a growing hunger that made my knees weak. Caught in his embrace, I melted against him as passion surged through me like a forest fire.
I could feel his own arousal pressing against my stomach, and my core ignited in response. I snaked my arms around his neck, opening my mouth to his kiss. He tasted as good as he smelled, and my tongue eagerly danced with his. My stomach fluttered at the sensation, making me forget where we were… until reality hit like a physical blow.
This was Remy. What was I doing? I didn't even like him, yet here I was behaving like a wanton hussy. No good at all could come of this, and I was a fool. I froze and started to drop my arms.
He pulled away suddenly and stepped back, his expression unreadable as he looked down into my eyes. He strode to the target and yanked the knife out, pausing with his back to me. I could see his shoulders rise and fall before he returned and handed me the knife.
"Keep this," he rasped. "And the other one. When you're finished here, we can talk about the Eye. I'll be upstairs."
And with that, he was gone.