“I wasn’t expecting the attack.” I glance to the side, and my cheek brushes against his mouth. “Do it again.”
Demitri lets go of me and hands the gun back to me as comes to stand in front of me.
My body is tense, and I watch him closely. This time when he moves, I yank my arms back, but he still grabs the gun from me, and then he sweeps my feet from under me. I land hard on my backside, letting out a huff of air.
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach that I’ll never be able to protect myself.
Demitri holds his hand out to me and helps me back to my feet, then he says, “Don’t get discouraged. I’ve been doing this all my life.”
I hear movement behind me, and glancing over my shoulder, I see everyone coming in.
I guess the training session is over.
Winter gestures to a large sparring mat. “Come. We’ll show you how it’s done.”
As Winter steps onto the mat, she winks at Damien. “Take it easy on me, babe.”
He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head as he begins to slowly move around her. My eyes are glued to them. I expect Damien to attack first, but Winter explodes into action. Lunging at her husband, she slams her body into his side, and grabbing hold of his shoulder, she freaking climbs his back like a tree. She quickly wraps her thighs around his neck, and then she flips him off his feet.
Holy crap.
My mouth drops open, and I can only stare.
Demitri moves forward, and my eyes widen. “Come, little brother. I miss a good fight.”
Winter comes to stand next to me, and then I have a running commentary.
This time they don’t waste time, and Damien instantly attacks Demitri, his body lifting off the mat as his leg shoots out to hit Demitri on the side of the head. But Demitri grabs hold of Damien’s ankle, and yanking hard, he sends his brother flying.
Damien’s instantly on his feet with a flip I can only dream of doing. Then they explode into action, and I can’t keep up with who hits who.
“Watch Damien. He’s on defense,” Winter says. “See how he mirrors every move from Demitri?”
“They’re moving too fast.”
Winter places her arm around my shoulder, then points to the men. “Look at their feet. See, it looks like a dance?”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“That’s important. You have to anticipate your opponent's steps.”
Shaking my head, I admit, “I’ll never be able to fight like that.”
“With enough training, you will,” Winter assures me.
Just then, Damien takes a swing at Demitri, hitting him hard on the jaw. Demitri doesn’t even flinch and just grins at his brother.
Nope, in no reality will I be able to take a hit like that and keep standing.
DEMITRI
After the impromptu sparring session, which turned out to be fun, Damien begins making a fire so we can grill some steaks.
By the sounds of things, Winter’s planning on giving Ariana more training after we’ve had our early dinner.
I walk to where the women are talking, and wrapping my arm around Ariana’s shoulders, I say, “I’m stealing her for a moment.”
“Sure,” Winter smiles at me, then heads to where Nikolai stands next to Damien, watching his father make the fire. I tug Ariana away from our friends and family and steer her toward the forest.
Once we’re walking between the trees, I glance down at her and ask, “How are you holding up?”
She grins up at me. “I’m actually having fun. I really like Winter.”
“That’s good,” I murmur. “And how are you coping with all the shit that’s been thrown at you?”
Ariana shrugs and crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive move. I don’t think she realizes that her guard just went up, not to keep me out, but because she’s probably scared of what’s coming.
I tighten my hold around her shoulders and press a kiss to her temple. “You’re going to be okay.”
She nods then glances up at me. “I know.”
When we reach the shoreline, the sun is starting to set on the horizon. I sit down on the sand, and when Ariana’s seated next to me, I rest my forearms on my knees and look at her. There’s more color in her cheeks from all the excitement of the day, and she seems relaxed.
Then the corner of her mouth trembles, and she takes a deep breath. “How do you do it?”
“What?” I whisper, lifting my hand and brushing a strand of hair that’s come loose from her ponytail away from her jaw.
“How do you live a life where it’s kill or be killed all the time?” Ariana’s eyes leave the water, turning to me.
“It’s second nature to me.”
“How old were you when you killed for the first time?” she asks, her gaze glued to my face.
“Sixteen,” I answer. “Our father took both Damien and me for our first kills.”