Chapter 39
I stomp toward the gym, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath.
I cannot believe Knox had the nerve to think there was anything left between us.
What am I most angry about?
My father talking about me instead of to me?
Knox assuming I would just do what I’m told?
Thinking he could placate me by allowing me to continue my training with the intention of ripping it all away once we graduate?
This is exactly why I chose myself over them.
In spite of everything, I know I’m doing the right thing.
I suddenly can’t wait to start this afternoon’s training.
We’re sparring today, and kicking someone’s ass seems like the perfect cure for this pent-up rage burning through my veins.
When I enter the gym, I scurry to change into my workout attire before heading to the large sparring mats at the far end of the room. Four different pairs are currently fighting in their respective corners, all reflected a thousand times by floor-to-ceiling mirrors covering three walls.
I spot Domino in a headlock with someone from House Asale, both sweating with exertion.
On the far side of the room, Rook is sparring with a big guy from Tera. I think his name is Ritsu. They’re both wearing sleeveless black shirts and shorts, and it’s hard not to be distracted by all the smooth, flexing muscle Rook currently has on display.
I study his tattoos that I’ve admired more times than I care to admit.
The thin topographical lines curve over every dip and valley of his muscles.
I note where they disappear under his shirt and wonder, not for the first time, where they start and end.
Do they stretch across his back? Flex along his chest? Maybe dip in the hollow of his spine?
Suddenly, I’m very warm, and I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.
Ritsu tosses Rook to the mat with a heavy thud, pinning him down.
They’re almost matched in size and strength as they twist and turn, but Rook manages to knock him off. They go tumbling in a ball of limbs, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the fiery intensity in Rook’s eyes.
But he isn’t angry, just determined. Beautiful in the way he moves with lethal grace.
“Poet,” comes a voice to my left, causing me to practically jump.
Henry’s wearing a half-cocked smile as he glances between me and the guy I was practically drooling over. He’s kind enough not to draw attention to it. “Ready for some sparring? I’ll be teaching you a few new moves today.”
I think of my conversation with Knox and slap my fist into my palm. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
Over the next hour, I follow Henry’s lead through a series of drills and maneuvers designed to improve my skills at hand-to-hand combat. I empty my mind and lose myself in the dance as my pulse races and sweat beads on my temples. This is exactly what I needed.
My bandaged knee is faring better, so I feel confident dancing side to side, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
Throughout my training, I remain aware of Rook on the near side of the room as he spars with various partners. His trainer, Brooklyn, runs him through numerous drills, shouting out a string of instructions.
Once or twice, our gazes hook ever so briefly before he looks away.
Probably because I can’t stop staring. Henry notices it more than once but still doesn’t call me out, even if I catch his knowing smirk.
The thing is, I’m not staring at Rook because he looks ridiculously good in his tight top and shorts, his hair disheveled and a sheen of sweat highlighting the curves of his rounded shoulders.
Okay, that’s not the only reason.
He’s a Spark Keeper. I’ve never met another Keeper. Has he? How can he not want to talk about this? It suddenly occurs to me that Keepers might be a common thing out in the Wastes and I’m not remarkable to him at all. An uncomfortable ache works its way through my chest at that thought.
But then I catch his brief glance, loaded with something, and I’m sure that can’t be true. I think he wants to talk about it, but maybe he’s not ready. He has every reason to be scared that someone might find out. He must understand that I’d never turn him in.
“Okay!” Brooklyn shouts from the corner, shocking me out of my spiraling thoughts. “Time for some more one-on-ones!”
She starts pointing to various people around the room. Domino is paired up with an Asale girl, and Brooklyn points to me before pointing to Rook.
“You two over here,” she says, gesturing to a spot on the floor at her feet.
I open my mouth and hesitate. A piece of hair hangs in Rook’s face, and he tucks it back, almost like he’s opening himself up for a challenge.
“Let’s go!” Brooklyn says with a sharp clap. “We haven’t got all day.”
I nod and then quickly cross the room, stopping a few feet away from Rook.
He hunches over as his face spreads into a wicked grin. “Think you can handle me? I won’t go easy just because you’re a Society princess.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I retort, earning me another cocky smile. It’s partly true.
He rushes for me, but I’m ready. My training first started with Raine’s rudimentary lessons in our apartment when I was less than ten years old, and the last few months have taught me plenty more ways to protect myself, even against a much bigger opponent.
I brace for impact, and when he’s close, I drop and roll, kicking out and swiping my foot behind his knees.
Rook lands flat on his back, and I’m on him, my thighs straddling his chest, knees pinning his elbows to the floor.
“Now who’s the princess?” I ask with a smirk.
“Sit a little higher and you’ll be a queen,” he taunts, and it takes me a moment to process his meaning. I gasp with indignation as his big hands wrap around my thighs, and then he lifts me up like I weigh nothing and tosses me down.
The wind gusts from my lungs, but I have enough presence of mind to roll away as he tries to pounce. He misses as I tumble over my shoulders and then leap up onto my feet in a crouch.
“Ha!” I shout in triumph as we begin circling, light on the balls of our feet.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” I demand under my breath, taking advantage of the fact that he can’t run away from me now.
“I’m not.” He feints and tries to get in a jab to my side. I drop my elbow, but he’s too fast, and I yelp as he scores the hit.
“Don’t lie to me. We need to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?”
We continue circling, moving in and out.
“You know what,” I say, lowering my voice even more. I don’t think anyone would have a clue what we’re discussing, but it’s best to be safe.
“I have nothing to say,” he answers.
“Rook!” I snap, and then we both blink. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever said his name out loud. He rolls his shoulders and cocks his head, inhaling a long breath.
“No, you’re trouble,” he says. “Chaos follows you everywhere. I don’t want any part of that.”
That feels a little unfair, but I brush it off because I need him to talk to me. Maybe he does have a bit of a point.
“Please,” I beg, almost desperate now.
His jaw hardens, uncertainty flashing over his expression. “Fine. If you can pin me for three seconds, we can talk,” he says, biting out the last word. I huff a piece of hair from my eye. “And if you can’t, then you leave me the fuck alone.”
I consider the offer. He’s almost twice my size, and I’ve watched him enough to know he’s adept at fighting. Whatever they do in the Wastes taught him a few things about survival.
But I can hold my own. Plus, he’s not really giving me a choice.
“Fine. Deal.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before he attacks. His arms wrap around my midsection, and we both go tumbling. That’s when I realize he was just humoring me before. I don’t stand a fucking chance.
I try to wriggle out from under him, squirming and bucking, but he holds me in place, his body wedged between my thighs. Finally, he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, his lithe body stretching over mine. It’s annoying but also kind of hot. Fuck.
“No fair,” I say.
“What’s not fair?”
“You’re . . . You . . .”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Are so much better at this?”
“You tricked me,” I hiss, trying to sit up, but he keeps me trapped on the floor.
“I did nothing of the sort—you assumed. Just like you always do.”
“We need to talk about this!”
I glance to the side to see if anyone’s noticed that we’ve stopped. Thankfully, everyone’s attention is on someone across the room who’s lying on the floor, blood oozing from his nose.
Rook squeezes my wrists tighter, pulling my attention back.
I go still, fully taking in the intimacy of our position.
His warm body between my thighs. His hard stomach against mine.
His breath skates over my exposed collarbone, pulling up goose bumps that I really hope he doesn’t notice.
The last thing I need is for him to know how he affects me. I’ll have no leverage left at all.
“A storm is coming,” he says in a low voice, and I nod because I feel it, too.
“You followed me that day.”
He exhales softly. His breath touches my mouth, and I lick my lips as his gaze zeroes in.
“I wasn’t sure if you saw me.”
“I wasn’t, either, but then you were there on the train and . . .”
“Right,” he says. “I need . . .” He looks up to ensure no one is watching us. Then he shakes his head and shoves off me, kneeling between my legs. I sit up, missing the crush of his body against mine.
“So do I,” I say. He needs to absorb a cloud burst. He’s probably been struggling within these contained walls, too. The hit I received in the simulation only took the edge off. It wasn’t enough. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can go back to the edge of the city.”
He’s looking down with his hands on his thighs. It takes a moment before he glances up. “Sneak out?” he asks, and I nod. “What did I say? Trouble.”
I narrow my eyes, not sure I like what he’s implying.
Then he sighs and gives me a skeptical look. I sense his shell is cracking; he just needs a little push. A whistle blows, signaling the end of training. Everyone breaks into happy conversation as they head for the changing rooms.
“Tonight,” I say to Rook. “Please.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches before he stands up.
“Fine,” he answers, and then he’s gone.