He shifted suddenly, stepping forward, the baton a pale blur as he lashed out at me. I ignored the step and the blow, holding still as the breeze of the baton's passing caressed the fingers of my left hand. He was only playing, and we both knew it.
I wouldn't even see his real move.
He grinned. "I'll be there as soon as this is over. And he did invite you along, remember."
"And spoil the private party you have planned?" My voice was dry. "I don't think so. Besides, I'd rather party with Kellen."
"Meaning Quinn is still out of the picture?"
"Not entirely." I shifted a little, keeping him in sight as he continued to circle. The padded green mats that covered the Directorate's sublevel training arena squeaked in protest under my bare feet.
"Your sweat is causing that," he commented. "But there's not nearly enough of it."
"Jesus, Rhoan, have a heart. I haven't seen Kellen for nearly a week. I want to play with him, not you."
He raised an eyebrow, a devilish glint in his silver eyes. "You get me on the mat, and I'll let you go."
"It's not you I want on the mat!"
"If you don't fight me, they'll make you fight Gautier. And I don't think either of us wants that."
"And if I do fight you, and do manage to bring you down, they're going to make me fight him anyway." Which pretty much sucked. I wasn't overly fond of vampires at the best of times, but some of them—like Quinn, who was in Sydney tending to his airline business, and Jack, my boss, and the man in charge of the whole guardian division—were decent people. Gautier was just a murdering freak. He might be a guardian, and he might not have done anything wrong just yet, but he was one of the bad guys. He was also a clone made for one specific purpose—to take over the Directorate. He hadn't made his move yet, but I had an odd premonition that he would, and soon.
Rhoan made another feint. This time the baton skimmed my knuckles, stinging but not breaking skin. I resisted the urge to shake the pain away and shifted my stance a little, readying for the real attack.
"So, what's happening between you and Quinn?"
Nothing had happened, and that was the whole problem. After making such a song and dance about me upholding my end the deal we'd made, he'd basically played absent lover for the last few months. I blew out a frustrated breath, lifting the sweaty strands of hair from my forehead. "Can't we have this discussion after I play with Kellen?"
"No," he said, and blurred so fast that he literally disappeared from normal sight. And while I could have tracked his heat signature with the infrared of my vampire vision, I didn't actually need to, because my hearing and nose were wolf sharp. Not only could I hear his light steps on the vinyl mats as he circled around me, but I could track the breeze of his spicy, leathery scent.
Both were now approaching from behind.
I dove out of the way, twisting around even as I hit the mat, and lashed out with a foot. The blow connected hard and low against the back of his leg, and he grunted, his form reappearing as he stumbled and fought to remain standing.
I scrambled upright, and lunged toward him. I wasn't fast enough by half. He scooted well out of reach and shook his head. "You're not taking this seriously, Riley."
"Yes, I am." Just not as seriously as he'd like me to. Not this evening, anyway.
"Are you that desperate to fight Gautier?"
"No, but I am that desperate to see Kellen." Sexual frustration wasn't a good thing for anyone, but it was particularly bad for a werewolf. Sex was an ingrained part of our culture—we needed it as much as a vampire needed blood. And this goddamn training had been taking up so much of my free time that I hadn't even been able to get down to the Blue Moon for some action.
I blew out another breath, and tried to think calm thoughts. As much as I didn't want to hurt my brother, if that was the only way out of here, then I might have to try.
But if I did succeed in beating him, then Jack might take that as a sign I was ready for the big one. And part of me feared that—feared that no matter what Jack said, my brother was right when he said that I shouldn't be doing this. That I was never going to be ready for it, no matter how much training I got.
That I'd screw it all up, and put everyone's life in danger.
Not that Rhoan had actually said that last one. But as the time drew nearer, it was in my thoughts more and more.
"It's a stupid rule, and you know it," I said eventually. "Fighting Gautier doesn't prove anything."
"He is the best at what he does. Fighting him makes guardians ready for what they may face out there."
"Difference is, I don't want to become a full-time guardian."
"You have no choice now, Riley."
I knew that, but that didn't mean I still couldn't rail against the prospect, even if my protests were only empty words.
I licked my lips and tried to concentrate on Rhoan. If I had to get him down on the mat to get out of here, then I would. I wanted, needed, to grab a little bit more of a normal life before the crap set in again.
Because it was coming. I could feel it.
A shadow flickered across one of the windows lining the wall to the right of Rhoan. Given it was nearly six, it was probably just a guardian getting himself ready for the evening's hunt. This arena was on sublevel five, right next to the guardian sleeping quarters. Which, amusingly, did contain coffins. Some vamps just loved living up to human expectations, even if they weren't actually necessary.
Not that any humans ever came down here. That would be like leading a lamb into the midst of a den of hungry lions. To say it would get ugly very quickly would be an understatement. Guardians might be paid to protect humans, but they sure as hell weren't above snacking on the occasional one either.
The shadow slipped past another window, and this time, Rhoan's gaze flickered in that direction. Only briefly, but that half second gave me an idea.
I twisted, spinning and lashing out with one bare foot. My heel skimmed his stomach, forcing him backward. His baton arced around, his blow barely avoiding my shin, then he followed the impetus of the movement so that he was spinning and kicking in one smooth motion. His heel whistled mere inches from my nose, and probably would have connected if I hadn't leaned back.
He nodded approvingly. "Now, that's a little more like it."
I grunted, shifting my stance and throwing the baton from one hand to the other. The slap of wood against flesh echoed in the silence surrounding us, and tension ran across his shoulders. I held his gaze, then caught the baton left-handed and started to hit out. Only to pull the blow up short and let my gaze go beyond him.
"Hi, Jack."
Rhoan turned around, and, in that moment, I dropped and kicked his legs out from underneath him. He hit the mat with a loud splat, his surprised expression dissolving quickly into a bark of laughter.
"The oldest trick in the book, and I fell for it."
I grinned. "Old tricks sometimes have their uses."
"And I guess this means you're free to go." He held up a hand. "Help me up."
"I'm not that stupid, brother."
Amusement twinkled in his silvery eyes as he climbed to his feet. "Worth a try, I guess."
"So I can go?"
"That was the deal." He rose and walked across to the side of the arena to grab the towel he'd draped over the railing earlier. "But you're back here tomorrow morning at six sharp."
I groaned. "That's just plain mean."
He ran the towel across his spiky red hair, and even though I couldn't see his expression, I knew he was grinning. Sometimes my brother could be a real pain in the ass.
"Maybe next time you'll reconsider the option of cheating."
"It's not cheating if it worked."
Though his smile still lingered, little of that amusement reached his eyes. He was worried, truly worried, about my part in the mission we'd soon embark on. He didn't want me to do this any more than I'd wanted him to become a guardian. But as he'd said to me all those years ago, some directions in life just had to be accepted.