“What? No kalis or bankow?” I mocked, referring to the wavy blade and the spear that were commonly matched with one of the eskrima sticks in a traditional kali fight.
“Just blunt objects tonight. We’re playing a slightly different game,” he said with a smirk.
“Different scoring system? We going to twenty points instead of ten?”
“Better. If a hit is scored, the loser takes off an article of clothing.”
My eyebrows jumped and my mouth fell open as I stared at him for a second. “Strip sparring?”
“You needed a distraction and a way to burn off some steam.”
I gave a small chuckle and shook my head at him as I turned my jo¯ staff over in my hands, getting ready for his attack. “Grand Masters are rolling over in their graves right now.”
With my feet planted on the mats, I clenched my muscles and tightened my grip on the red oak staff as Danaus closed the distance between us. His face was completely expressionless, and I could feel the calm sweeping through his mind and down through his body as he settled into total focus on knocking the absolute crap out of me. I, on the other hand, was a ball of energy waiting to explode. I could find no calm, no center of peace, as thoughts of the Daylight Coalition, Rowe, Cynnia, and the Soga clan all danced through my head.
The second he was within striking distance, Danaus pounded me with a flurry of hits I barely managed to block. The hunter was a blur of motion, aiming striking blows from the top of my head to the inside of my thighs as he searched methodically for an opening. The speed at which he came at me kept me on the defensive, but I didn’t back up an inch, refusing to give him the satisfaction of overpowering me with his speed and skill.
After more than five minutes of nearly nonstop blows, Danaus stepped back and wiped the sweat from his left temple. He wasn’t breathing heavily yet, but the flurry of strikes had taken its toll. I took the opening and launched my own attack with the jo¯ staff. He caught a strike aimed for his neck with his eskrima stick, but before I could sweep the staff down to knock his legs out from beneath him, he hit me with a punyo, slamming the end of one of the eskrima sticks in the dead center of my forehead.
Dazed, I stumbled backward a couple steps until I finally landed on my ass in the middle of my mat. With my left hand, I touched my forehead to find a steady trickle of blood starting to slide down to the bridge of my nose. I wiped away the blood as the wound quickly closed. I had a feeling I would have a bruise there for several more minutes. My thoughts were scattered and my head throbbed, making me wonder if he’d succeeded in cracking my skull.
“I want your shirt,” Danaus proclaimed.
Frowning, I put down my staff, pulled my black cotton T-shirt over my head and tossed it at him. The hunter caught the shirt with one of the sticks in his hand and tossed it to the side of the room as if putting aside his prizes. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t bothered to take off my shoes. My focus wasn’t on the fight as it should have been, and I was going to lose quickly if I didn’t get centered.
Grabbing up my staff again, I rose to my feet with a push of my powers. I stuffed all my stray thoughts down into a ball in the pit of my stomach so my mind was finally clear. Before I had my feet properly set, Danaus came at me again with sticks flying. I beat them back, and actually managed to overpower him enough to forced him to take a step back. My usual vampire speed was returning as I focused on the fight before me. Danaus struck out with his right hand, and I easily blocked it, but it was a feint. He jabbed with his left hand, hoping to catch me in the middle of the chest. I twisted out of his reach, balancing most of my weight on my right foot. As he started to pull back from the missed blow, I once again swept down with my staff. This time the jo¯ staff hit its mark, slamming into the back of both of his legs. Danaus hit the mat flat on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
Grinning, I stood over him with the jo¯ staff pointed at his throat. “Shirt, please.”
“I’m still wearing my shoes and socks,” he patiently pointed out.
“And I said shirt. Now.”
I stepped backward, returning to my side of the sparring mat so he could sit up and pull his black T-shirt over his head. He tossed it to me and I caught it with one hand. Bringing it to my face, I pretended to take in a deep whiff. “Ahhh . . . I smell fear,” I said before tossing the shirt over to the side of the room.
Danaus gave a deep chuckle as he pushed to his feet again. A new feeling twisted in my stomach as I watched the play of muscles before me. His stomach was flat and lined with thick muscles, while his arms bulged as he flexed the muscles and took up position with the eskrima sticks. The shirt had been a mistake. I now had a new distraction, and this one wasn’t as easy to push away as it danced before my eyes. Damn it, I should have said shoes. I could only hope standing before him in a lacy red bra was having a similar effect, but I wasn’t willing to rely on it. Danaus had an unnerving focus when he wanted to win.
As we stepped back into the fight, I struggled to clear my mind so I could focus solely on the blur of eskrima sticks. As Danaus started to circle me, I thought I had an opening at last. I raised my jo¯ for an overhead blow, but he blocked it with one hand striking me with a redondo by whipping the free stick about to slam against the back of my head. My head jerked forward, but I had enough focus still to snap the end of my staff forward in hopes of catching him in the knee with the end. Unfortunately, he shifted out of the way in time and took a step back.
“Jeans,” he said, ignoring my attempts to strike when we were supposed to have already separated.
Temper and frustration rising, I threw my jo¯ staff down to the ground with a loud clatter while I unbuttoned and jerked off my pants. I threw them at Danaus and quickly picked up my staff. He had enough time to toss them over to where my shirt lay before I was attacking again. I was half naked and feeling more than a little vulnerable, but my temper was also flaring. Danaus and I were usually evenly matched in most of our sparing matches, but I was letting him take advantage of my distraction and losing to him in a most embarrassing fashion.
We exchanged strikes back and forth for several minutes, neither gaining the advantage over the other. I blocked one of his strikes with my staff, but his eskrima stick slid down the pole, smacking into my hand with enough force to bloody the knuckles. I didn’t release my jo¯.
Danaus took a step backward, lowering his guard. “Bra.”
“That doesn’t count as a strike! You didn’t mean to hit me!”
“A strike is a strike.”
“I’m not giving it to you.”
“I think you will,” he said with a narrowed gaze. He dropped the eskrima sticks and approached me. I backpedaled, but was unwilling to strike at him if he was unarmed. As he reached me, he grabbed my jo¯, pulled it out of my hands and dropped it on the ground. He wrapped his right hand around the back of my head, grasping a handful of hair as he pulled me roughly against him, locking his lips over mine. I didn’t hesitate, kissing him back with the same passion as my eyes fell shut. The fingers of his right hand tightened in my hair while his other hand cupped one of my breasts. His thumb brushed over the nipple, causing it to harden beneath the thin layer of lace.
I fought back an evil smile as I suddenly grasped both of his arms and swept my leg behind both of his, taking him to the ground. I landed on top of him, laughing. “I think that officially counts as a strike,” I announced with a smile. “Give me your pants.”
“I’m still wearing shoes and socks,” he pointed out with a smug smile.