Chapter 11 Zera #2
The morning light streamed through the wall of windows, casting a celestial glow over the makeshift gym.
Zera sipped her coffee, the bitterness a stark contrast to the overwhelming sweetness of the situation.
Here she was, a single mom accustomed to the rhythm of caring for everyone else, now not only being cared for but about to step onto a mat and learn the art of combat.
It was a surreal moment, one that Zera never thought she would experience in her lifetime.
“Are you okay?” Maverick asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
She jumped, looking over her shoulder where Maverick stood next to the couch that had been pushed up against the wall. She realized she’d been staring at a shelf full of various-sized daggers perched next to the weights. She hadn’t even noticed when she’d moved from the kitchen.
Luckily, her coffee mug was nearly empty. Otherwise, she was sure she’d spill it on the row of leather belts. And was that a… a toothbrush?
She couldn’t fathom what any of those things were useful for.
“Yeah, it’s just… a lot,” she admitted as she looked at the assorted weaponry. The gleam of knives seemed to mock her, a reminder of her naiveté in this dangerous new world. Maverick’s world.
Maverick approached, his presence reassuring and intimidating. “It can be,” he agreed, his voice low and steady. “But remember, you’re not fighting against the weapons or the training. You’re fighting for something—someone—far more important.”
Zera nodded, feeling the truth of his words resonate within her. Cole. This was all for his safety. She set her mug down on a nearby end table with determination.
“Let’s do this,” she said, her mind made up.
Without another word, he led her to the center of the mat, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Let’s start with your stance,” he instructed, demonstrating a balanced position. “Good foundation is key.”
As she mirrored his pose, she felt an unfamiliar sense of power coursing within her veins.
With each pivot and block that Maverick guided her through, she could feel herself transforming, her confidence building like a fortress around her heart.
Despite the fear that showered her thoughts, there was also something invigorating about learning to fight.
Each jab and kick released pent-up anxieties and doubts, leaving behind a growing certainty of her own strength.
She had a long way to go, though, as Maverick pinned her to the mat with ease, his muscles flexing as he held her in place. Citrus and burnt wood surrounded her. She struggled beneath him, trying to will her aching muscles to push back—to break free.
But despite her best efforts, she couldn’t escape his grasp. Maverick’s grip tightened slightly, his eyes locked on hers with a mixture of intensity and amusement.
“Where are all those self-defense moves now?” He cocked his dark brow at her.
She scowled up at his smug face. “They didn’t exactly have us practice getting pinned down by a trained werewolf spy,” she huffed in frustration.
Zera strained against his hold, determined to prove that she wasn’t completely helpless.
“No?” Maverick chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending a tantalizing shiver down her spine. “Too busy pouring cocktails at that wolf tavern you work at?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Arrogant faeboy.
He must’ve read the insult on her face because he laughed even harder.
“Stop it,” she said, shoving him again. It did nothing. It was like trying to push a mountain. Her mouth deceived her, and she cracked a smile.
“Listen,” he said, his deep, masculine voice somehow still soft and comforting. “Everyone has a weak spot. Even me.”
“Oh, really? The great lone wolf turned rogue spy admits to having a weakness?” She gawked in jest.
He rolled his eyes. “Everyone has a weakness. Yours is your self-doubt.”
“Gee, thanks,” she muttered with a mock-appreciative tone, feeling a pang of annoyance mixed with a touch of truth.
Maverick was right. She had always struggled with self-doubt, constantly second-guessing her abilities as a pixie and as a mother. It was hard not to, especially when her responsibilities weighed heavy on her shoulders.
And it didn’t help matters when the man she’d loved, the one who’d supposedly loved her, completely abandoned her and his own son.
She blinked the tears that threatened to rise.
Not because she missed him but because of the fact that neither she nor her son had been worthy enough to stick around for.
But she knew without a doubt that Cole was.
He was worth more than her life and deserved better.
She knew it, but she hated the little voice inside her head that whispered that her son might deserve better than her.
That she wasn’t good enough or strong enough to protect Cole when it truly mattered, and she loathed herself for sometimes believing that.
You’re more than good enough. Her body froze. It wasn’t a thought she expected to hear, and it didn’t quite sound like her own, but it was enough to jar her out of her self-deprecating thoughts.
“Believe it or not, Zera,” Maverick said, releasing her as he stood up and offered her a hand. “Even the best of us have a weak spot.”
Zera took his hand warily, rising to stand beside him. His grip, firm and warm, seemed to ground her spiraling thoughts, sending an unexpected jolt of energy through her. She quickly withdrew her hand, trying to ignore the lingering sensation.
“All right, so how do I find this ‘weak spot’?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her heart was still pounding from their close encounter, and her cheeks were flushed.
Maverick’s trademark smirk returned as he folded his arms. “Ah, that’s the million-faecoin question, isn’t it?” he mused. “It’s not something you can see. You have to feel it, sense it. It’s more about intuition than physical or even magical strength.”
His words rang true, making her think of their unspoken connection.
The way Maverick seemed to understand her on a deeper level.
The way he encouraged her and pushed her to the limits.
It made her want to push herself harder too.
To prove to herself she was capable of more, as Maverick seemed to think.
“Let’s go again,” he said, the intensity in his eyes sparking a fire within her.
Zera’s eyes locked on his. An unmistakable hum filled her body when his lips parted into a crooked smile, as if he was challenging her.
She was there to learn, to protect herself and her son, but there was something else between them, a spark that ignited every time their eyes met.
But she didn’t have time for that. She needed to train, to master everything Maverick had to teach her because there was no way Gareth, or whoever, could come into her life and threaten her son and her family without her putting up a fight and defending them.
“All right, but this time you won’t pin me. I’m going to find your weak spot,” she declared, her own determination evident in her voice.
Maverick chuckled. “Let’s see it, then.”
She rolled her sore shoulders and squared off against Maverick once again, this time more focused than ever.
As they circled each other, Zera let everything go.
Everything she’d ever believed, thought, or felt, leaving only intuition and instinct in the wake.
She focused on everything Maverick had taught her so far—the precise movements, the calculated strikes, and the art of anticipation.
She observed his every motion as she countered them, analyzing his body language for any sign of weakness.
As they continued to spar, their movements seemed to become more synchronized, as if they were dancing.
Maverick was patient with her, guiding her through the moves with a steady hand.
His touch was firm yet gentle, instilling in her a sense of safety she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Despite the seriousness of their training, he often wore a playful grin, especially when he pinned her down and she finally managed to sense his weak spot—a small ticklish spot on his side.
Zera burst into laughter as she wiggled out from underneath him.
Maverick’s laughter joined hers, the sound filling the room and creating an atmosphere of pure joy.
“Okay, okay, you win,” he said, his voice resonating with pride. “How’d you know that would work?”
Zera caught her breath, still giggling as she sat up. “Pixie powers,” she teased, her voice brimming with playful confidence. “We have our ways of uncovering secrets.”
“Oh, do you now?” he taunted with a wickedly handsome grin.
She wiped the sweat from her brow. “That, or I made a mental note of your reaction when I brushed by you earlier. It was a lucky guess.”
“Lucky or not, you’re a quick learner.”
She smiled at his words, feeling a warmth spread through her once again. It was then that she heard it again—or thought she heard it.
You’re beautiful when you smile like that.
The voice this time was undeniably Maverick’s, but his lips hadn’t moved. Or at least she hadn’t seen them move. She blinked at him, a wave of confusion washing over her. Had he said that out loud? Or had she imagined it?
Before she could dwell on it further, Maverick cleared his throat and continued their training. But Zera couldn’t shake off the incident. Every time their hands brushed or their eyes met, she wondered if he felt it, too, the inexplicable bond between them.
During a particularly intense sparring session, Zera stumbled back, gasping for breath. Maverick stepped forward, concern etching his features. Shit. Are you all right? His voice echoed in her mind again, soft and soothing. She looked at him, her eyes wide. He hadn’t opened his mouth.