What does Nahi want more than anything else right at this very moment? Does she have any aching, gnawing fixations?
Nahi’s back hit the ground with a sharp thud, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Her hair fanned out beneath her, purple curls sticking to damp skin on her cheek, the sheen of sweat catching the light. A sound rumbled in her throat, half-growl, half-moan, before a firm hand pressed over her mouth, silencing her.
Her violet eyes flared wide, locking onto his. The heat in them could have been rage, could have been something else. She pushed upward, palms clutching at his shoulders, her body arching beneath his weight. A muffled sound slipped past the seal of his hand, raw and urgent.
For a heartbeat, time stilled. Breath mingled. The space between them felt too thin, too charged. Then, with a deliberate slowness, her fingers threaded into his hair. She curled them tight and pulled, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to blur whether the gesture was defiance… or something far more dangerous.
He hissed at the sharp tug, his head jerking to the side. The shift loosened his grip just enough for her to tear free a muffled breath, but not enough to escape his weight pressing her down. Their limbs tangled as she twisted beneath him, every movement a collision of muscle against muscle, strength against strength.
Her nails raked across his shoulder, leaving shallow trails that burned like fire. He caught her wrist, pinning it above her head, his breath harsh against her cheek. The closeness was suffocating, intoxicating, their struggle a rhythm that could almost be mistaken for something else.
She shoved upward with her hips, trying to unseat him, and for a heartbeat his balance wavered. His knee slid against her thigh, anchoring him again. A low sound broke from him, rough, half-laugh, half-snarl, as if he couldn’t decide whether to relish the fight or end it.
Their eyes locked once more. Her chest heaved against his, his hand still tight against her mouth, and in that charged silence it was impossible to tell if she was suffocating on fury… or desperately fighting back fear.
Reaching out, Nahi tapped the floor. Instantly he slid off her, leaving her gasping, chest rising and falling hard as she rolled to her side. He lay back with a grunt, catching his own breath before saying, “Not bad. But you missed things that would have stopped me, or at least slowed me. Look around. Right now. Give me five.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears, but there was no reprieve in these lessons. Turning her head, she scanned the room. “I could have kicked the stool at you.”
He nodded. “Or hit me with it. Next?”
She let her eyes sweep again, forcing her brain to work through the haze of exhaustion. “The window. I could have broken it, used the glass.”
“Not bad. A bit too much effort, though.”
“The leather scraper.” Her voice faltered. She couldn’t see how that would help. He had her in a room for repairing leather armor, intentionally putting her in a space not made for fighting.
“Yes.” He sat up, sharp eyes watching her. Then he spared her the struggle, rising to his feet and offering a hand. “The leather itself. Throw it in my face to break my line of sight. Blind me while you go for my legs. Stepping on my foot is good, a kick to the knee is better.”
Nahi hauled herself up, hands braced on her knees as she fought for air. Her gaze flicked again around the room. “The lamp?”
His brow lifted. “That should have been the most obvious. Flammable liquid, fire, glass, all of it a deterrent.”
She straightened slowly, every muscle aching, and looked at him. “What’s my takeaway?”
He returned her stare in silence until she forced the answer herself.
“I won’t always have a weapon on hand,” she said quietly, “or it might be knocked away.”
He crossed to the table, snagged two bottles, and handed one to her. “In the field, especially in a medical tent, you won’t have a sword or shield nearby. Your focus will be on patients. An attack could come from anywhere. The tent is full of things to use in an emergency. You need the mindset to see them and use them.”
She lifted the water, grimacing as she straightened. Tomorrow her body would rebel. “How do I learn to think like this?”
“Practice. Until it’s instinct.” His eyes hardened. “I told you when I agreed to take you, this isn’t pretty, honorable fighting. This is the lowest, dirtiest way to survive. Right or wrong doesn’t matter. Only who walks away.”
Her fingers trembled against the cool bottle. The words dragged her mind back, to the Undermines, the hand at her throat, the chaos pressing in. She swallowed hard, maybe she still wouldn’t have stood a chance against the worgen. But with this… maybe she could at least have understood what it meant to claw for life.
(Thank you for the question @lilyofporcelain, sorry it took me forever to answer it.)
