Twilight Siege

12

He opened a thick metal door to reveal a large modern training room and my clenched shoulders relaxed. The light wood floors were reminiscent of a school gymnasium, although the smell was thankfully much more Old Spice than sweaty teenager. One corner of the room was dedicated to free weights and had rubber matting covering the wood. There was an array of equipment—punching bag, speed bag, pullup bars, weight bench with a wall full of weights, treadmill and more. Lochlan walked over to a shelf and grabbed boxing pads and white tape. “Give me your hand.” I set down my gym bag and held my hand out which he proceeded to systematically wrap with white fabric tape from wrist to knuckles. Once both hands were fully wrapped and I had warmed up with a five-minute jog, he began our lesson. He showed me how to hold a fist so that I wouldn’t, hopefully, break my thumb when I punched something. We also went over foot stance, how to guard my face by holding my fists up in front of me, the difference between a jab and a cross, and proper follow-through of my hips when I punched. Through each lesson I tried to ignore the flutters of awareness that danced across my skin at his nearness. When he stood behind me and his strong hands touched my waist to pivot my hips correctly, it was all I could do to focus on his words. His spicy masculine scent was even stronger after taking a run, and every minute that ticked by made me more achingly aware of how alone we were in the gym. “Now that you have the basics, let’s practice a few sequences.” He slid round pads on each of his hands and held them up just slightly in front of him at chest height. I stood knees slightly bent in ready position with my left foot forward, my right foot behind me, and held my hands up to guard my face. “Give me a jab-jab-cross combo, then repeat. Make sure to exhale on your strikes.” Slowly at first, I went through the motions. Jab-jab-cross, then repeat— over and over. Along with jabs and crosses, we worked on upper cuts and ducking until I started to feel like one of those inflated floppy balloon men at used car lots. I had never had a workout tire me so thoroughly to the point of exhaustion as boxing had. When he finally called the session to a close, I collapsed onto my back and stared at the ceiling, wondering if I would be able to move the next day. My hair on top of my head, once an attractive messy bun, now more closely resembled a bird’s nest than a hairstyle. Sweat drenched my shirt and I wasn’t sure any deodorant had survived the training session. Lochlan, who barely showed signs of having broken a sweat, sat on the weight bench not far from me. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and smirked at me sprawled out on the floor. “Am I going to have to carry you home?” His words, spoken in a low murmur, stirred to life the butterflies in my stomach. I would have thought even they were too tired to move, but he had proven me wrong. “I’ll manage, thanks.” After a moment of deep breathing, I sat up on the matted floor with my legs crossed. “This is kind of random, but I was wondering about something I read a while back. When I researched about magic and Ireland, there were tons of references to druids —were they real?” I wanted to hear what he knew about the druids, but I wouldn’t say anything to hint at their modern-day existence. “They were, but they haven’t existed for a long time.” “What happened to them?” “They were killed by the Hunt.” His quick admission took me off guard and I bolted upright with my mouth hanging open in shock. In a whisper I asked, “Were you a part of that?” As I waited for his answer I became aware of just how much I wanted him to deny his involvement. “No, that was before my time. The Erlking back then was Odin and it was at his command that the women were killed. Guin had commanded the Fae back to Faery and released her handmaidens back to Earth but not long after they were killed by the Hunt. When Guin found out, she was livid and war broke out between the Court and the Hunt. Eventually, Guin killed Odin for his actions, although he claimed from the start that Guin herself had come to him and given her blessing to hunt the humans. They had been her trusted friends and she would not forgive the transgression. That time period was marked by such darkness and bloodshed that once Alberich became the Erlking, both he and Guin have always endeavored to stay on good terms.” “Guin killed the legendary Norse God, Odin?” “Legend—he wasn’t really a god. The Hunt spent many years in Scandinavia during his leadership and word got around.” “She must be really powerful.” “She is, I would not want to get on her bad side.” I had to take a minute to process everything he had revealed. Guin had not ordered the death of her handmaidens, instead, she had avenged them. Could I convey that information to the druids and convince them that they were not in danger? They wouldn’t be happy to know I was discussing their past with Lochlan, but it would mean those people could live without the constant fear of being discovered. I didn’t think I could pry into the subject much further without making him suspicious, so I changed topics. “Has there been any trace of Ronan?” He quickly rose and stalked across the room, his hand running through his hair harshly. “No. We searched his home but found nothing out of the ordinary. We’ve traced his credit cards and used the most advanced tracking platforms out there but we haven’t had a single hit.” “That sounds awfully human of you. I figured you all would be using magic and your super Fae senses to track him down.” My sarcasm surfaced as I rose to gather my things near where he stood by the door. “We use our spidey senses too, no reason not to use all techniques available.” “The Faerie’s got jokes? I’m shocked!” I poked him in the chest as I spoke. It was a gesture I would have made with one of my close friends, and I blamed my exhaustion for acting in such a familiar manner with him when our relationship had not yet progressed to that level. We had known each other for several weeks, but we rarely joked or teased one another, and we certainly didn’t make casual physical contact. He pressed forward and backed me into the door frame, my head tilted back to look into his inscrutable face. “Careful with that smart mouth or I’ll have to find a better use for it.” The towel I was holding dropped from my hands and my breathing became shallow. We had managed to temporarily avoid the dizzying s****l energy between us, but eventually we always came back to it. I could feel the warmth from his chest, like a beacon it called to me, tempted me to move just a little closer.