Chapter 12 Zera
Zera
Zera’s fists sliced through the air, her breaths coming out in pants as she practiced her jabs and crosses under Maverick’s watchful gaze.
The living room turned training room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the floor.
Through the wall of windows, downtown Mystic City stretched out before them, its skyscrapers gleaming like a cluster of silver needles against the blue sky.
“Keep your guard up,” Maverick instructed, his voice smooth and steady.
Zera’s eyes never left his, the intensity of her determination evident in their locked gazes.
She gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder, sweat beading on her brow as she sought to improve her skills.
Maverick countered her moves with ease, but she refused to let it discourage her.
She’d done harder things than this. At least that was what she kept telling herself.
“Again,” he commanded, and Zera obeyed without hesitation.
Her footwork had grown more agile over the past days, weeks, or however long they’d been holed up in that penthouse.
She was tired and ready to go home but not until the mission was complete.
Not until Gareth was out of their lives once and for all.
Especially after she learned her house had been burned to the ground.
The blow was devastating, but she couldn’t let it consume her.
She had training to do, and she was getting damn good at it.
She lunged forward, flexing her right hand as her knife, aimed at Maverick’s chest, appeared in a puff of smoke from the sleeve of her fighting leathers, but he easily dodged it and trapped her arm in a lock.
With a flick of his wrist, the blade went flying across the room.
Zera cursed under her breath and attempted to break free from his grasp.
He chuckled and tightened his hold on her.
“Your moves are getting predictable,” he teased.
Zera glared at him, knowing he was right. She needed to switch up her tactics if she wanted any chance of beating him. She took a deep breath and focused all her energy on finding an opening in his defense.
Suddenly, she saw it. A small gap in his stance that she could exploit. She quickly twisted her body, breaking free from his hold and landing a solid punch to his gut. Maverick stumbled back, surprised by her sudden burst of strength.
Zera took advantage of the momentary distraction, grabbed her knife off the floor, and lunged at him again with renewed determination. This time, she was able to land a few fake strikes before he disarmed her.
But she still didn’t give up as they continued to spar.
She kept fighting, using every move and technique she had learned from him or had taught herself.
Her unwavering resolve to keep getting up every time she fell down propelled her forward.
She would never let herself feel weak, powerless, or unloved, like she had during those first months postpartum.
The dark memory of feeling so underwater flooded her mind.
She had barely been able to keep things together as she juggled taking care of Cole and working at Haven Wolf Tavern while surrounded by people who didn’t seem to understand or really see her struggling.
But somehow she had persevered, drawing strength from her love for her son.
Now, that same fierce determination fueled her desire to be better—for herself, for Cole, and for whatever future awaited them.
And finally, after what felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes, she managed to pin Maverick down on the floor and hold her knife to his throat.
“Break,” Maverick called out, tapping the mat on the floor where she straddled him.
“Break so soon?” She cocked her head to the side. “You’re getting too easy.”
A wholehearted laugh rumbled through Maverick’s chest, one she hadn’t heard in a little while, and his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. The look sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
“Easy? Far from it,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek. He sat up, picking her up by the thighs and setting her on the mat beside him, like she barely weighed a thing.
A sudden disappointment filled Zera’s chest as Maverick released her, breaking their physical connection and reminding her that he was still avoiding the unspoken bond between them.
She’d hoped for a little more, a lingering touch or perhaps even something more.
She knew she should fear being with another werewolf, letting herself be vulnerable like that, and maybe a part of her still did.
But he wasn’t a wolf, slave to his pack.
He was a fae of his own making, and she respected that.
He continuously proved how different he was from anyone she’d ever known, devoting every waking minute to her training and relentlessly pursuing the arms dealer who, it seemed, had turned drug lord and was a threat to her and her son.
And he seemed to be drawn to her, too, judging by the way she’d caught him admiring her physique while she trained or helped clean up from dinner.
She couldn’t deny the chemistry between them, and she found herself eagerly anticipating their next training sessions. But there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind. Would they ever be able to truly be together? Would their different species and backgrounds always keep them apart?
Despite these doubts, she couldn’t help but feel safe and comfortable around him. He had become a constant presence in her life for these past weeks, someone she could rely on during this chaotic time. And as much as she tried to resist, she found herself falling for him more each day.
His cooking helped. Each morning they’d wake up with a protein smoothie.
Lunch was light, but then at dinner, he would whip up an amazing dish, tapping into some magic to create flavors she’d never experienced before.
She could tell he enjoyed it, too, from the way his eyes would sparkle as he presented each meal to her.
It was a small thing, but it spoke volumes about him and his priorities.
He was surprisingly homey for a spy. Not that she’d met many spies, but she imagined them being far colder and more detached, always on the move and never forming real connections.
But he was different. He had a warmth to him that drew her in, making her feel safe and protected.
And it only strengthened the connection she knew was growing between them.
Yet, as was typical these days, Maverick kept his walls up, refusing to let her in since she’d brought up his voice she’d heard in her mind.
It hadn’t happened again, and she was starting to think she’d imagined it.
“Your progress is impressive,” he said, rising and stretching his hand out to help her up. She stifled a frustrated sigh as she tried to keep from admiring his glorious pecs. At least his chivalry hadn’t been locked away, like his feelings seemed to be. “You have a natural gift for this.”
A small smile played on her lips as she straightened and wiped the perspiration away with the back of her hand. “Was that a compliment?”
“Maybe,” Maverick replied with a smirk, his arrogance making a brief appearance. “But you’ve earned it. Your dedication is truly paying off.”
Zera felt her cheeks warm at the praise, but she quickly refocused her mind on the task at hand.
She knew she couldn’t afford to let anything distract her from her goal of becoming stronger and more self-assured, not even Maverick’s confusing behavior or his striking good looks.
A feat that was getting harder as the days went by.
“Let’s move on to more-complex weapons training,” Maverick suggested, walking over to a chest filled with an array of enchanted weapons.
“As you know, your clothing isn’t only for show.
It’s been designed to conjure various weapons that can be seamlessly incorporated into your movements. The dagger is just one of them.”
“Yes, I know. Shields and defense weapons on my left, daggers on the right,” Zera said, approaching the chest with a sense of anticipation.
She was beginning to enjoy learning to use all these weapons.
It was like opening a new set of measuring beakers and experimenting with a new element every day.
“There’s a third category where you can conceal your own weapons,” Maverick began and offered her a sleek silver staff adorned with intricate markings and symbols. “I think this one will suit you.”
She gawked at its height. It was nearly as tall as her, stopping at shoulder height. She raised her eyebrows at Maverick. “A stick? You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s not a stick. A staff.” He laughed when her face twisted in even more confusion. “Just… take it.”
The storm in his icy eyes hinted at something deeper, some distant pain perhaps, and though she couldn’t feel him through the bond she knew they had, his tone conveyed to her that this weapon in particular meant something.
She finally took the stick in her right hand and gasped. Warmth and energy rushed up her arm and spine simultaneously like the surge of her pixie dust, only it seemed to come from the staff like it was an amplifier. She felt stronger, more focused, and like her power was limitless.
Without thinking, she flicked her wrist, and two blades shot out from either end of the staff.
“See? You’re a natural.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but she wasn’t listening. Wind rushed through her ears like the sound she played Cole to hush him to sleep. She looked up, but the sliding door to the balcony was closed, and the curtains were still. Where was the breeze coming from?