“You'll fight most aliens at night,” Ryan said, now amused. Could he see us? “So you must learn to fight them without seeing them. You'll fight most aliens outside, with nothing to cushion your falls. Therefore, you will train without any hint of softness underneath you.”
All around me, I could hear the girls panting. My skin was already beading with sweat.
“You will be hurt during these training sessions,” Ryan explained. “Get used to the idea now. I won't go easy on you, and I won't let you go easy on each other. The Outers won't.”
He paused.
Please tell us we can stop jogging. Please tell us we can stop jogging. I'd gotten enough exercise with Mia.
He didn't, of course. “Starting out this way might seem cruel, but I'm actually doing you a favor. If you expect the worst, you'll be prepared for the worst. If you learn to fight past your exhaustion, you'll tap into a reservoir of strength you never knew you possessed.”
Air burned in my lungs, but I didn't slow my gait.
Ryan spoke for another five minutes before ushering us to one of the side walls, which we had to feel our way to find. “Sit.”
We did, finally able to catch our breath. Soon my eyes adjusted to the dark completely, and I was able to make Ryan out more clearly. And that, of course, was when he flipped on the lights. My lids blinked open and closed against the orange and red dots, trying to help my eyes adjust once again to the change.
When they did, I almost wished Ryan had left off the lights.
He looked good. Too good. Mouthwateringly good.
Today he was wearing a black T-shirt, black pants, and black boots. He was a shadow, even in the light. His dark hair was in disarray, and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. To him, we probably looked like tired, sweaty lumps of shit.
“Are you ready to begin?” he asked. He met each and every girls' stare—except mine. Me, he avoided looking at altogether and that made me frown. That wasn't just a little rude of him, that was flat-out harsh.
What had I done? Had I made him mad?
I scoured my mind, replaying our last conversation, but couldn't think of anything I had done to offend him. With that realization came anger. He had no right to ignore me. He had no right to treat me as less than the others.
“Well,” he commanded more coarsely. “Are. You. Ready?”
After everyone had nodded, he added more calmly, “Then let's do this.”
For the next hour, he showed us a few hand moves and the best way to hit an Arcadian—chest and head, throat and temple. Groin. The lesson corresponded perfectly with our lesson from anatomy class, since we'd studied Arcadians there. They were vulnerable where humans were vulnerable, except their airways were located in different places.
As Ryan demonstrated the moves, there was a fluid grace to him that I'd never seen with another man. He almost looked like a dancer.
Finally he had us stand up and do the moves ourselves. The first was a punch forward with open palm to either break a nose or slam into the breastbone, cutting off the Arcadian's air supply.
Second, we learned a knee jerk and dive. We raised a knee, hard, then bent over, swooping our torsos in a wide half circle. The purpose, Ryan said, was to hurt our opponent, then avoid their strike of retaliation, which was sure to come.
“Mimic my actions,” he said, kicking, straightening, turning, and kicking again. “Good, Kitten. Good, Jenn.” He proceeded to congratulate everyone, his voice dripping with praise. Me, not so much. I got a “good,” sure, but mine was muttered and he didn't say my name.
Maybe he had forgotten.
What the hell was going on with him?
Was everyone else the teacher's pet and I was just the unwanted slug? I ground my teeth together. I kicked straight, just as he'd done, then twirled and kicked again, his face a target in my mind. The girls, too, kicked and punched, then kicked again. I hadn't worked out in a long time (not counting Mia's workout and Ryan's jogging session) and after the first hour my muscles began burning. I began sweating—again.
Inside, I was cringing. Even though I was currently pissed off at Ryan, I didn't want him to see me like this. Truly, he'd only ever seen me at my worst. I mean, really. Not only was I sweating, but I was wearing the god-awful white pants and shirt every trainee was required to wear. And mine were a little too tight! Not good for a flat chest.
Kitten had taken—and needed—the larger clothing. Her br**sts and hips were bigger than mine, a fact that would have made me jealous if Kitten weren't such a nice person.
“I need a volunteer,” Ryan said, “to demonstrate the next move.”
All the girls held up their hands. Except Emma, the tattooed one who hated all of us, and me, of course. Ryan still wouldn't look at me, and I wouldn't degrade myself by showing how eager I was to let him put his hands on me.
Deep down, though, I knew I'd like it—his hands on me, that is.
“Phoenix.”
Hearing my name from him gave me an odd little shiver. I blinked in surprise. “Yeah?”
“Get up here.” He waved me over, still looking anywhere but me.
“Lucky,” Dani moaned.
My surprise intensifying, I walked slowly toward him. Each of my steps was measured, unsure. I couldn't help but wonder, why me? I mean, he still wouldn't glance in my direction. Oh, wait, I thought, frowning. He'd promised to be hard on us. He probably meant to pound me into the ground while “demonstrating.”
No way. No damn way. I popped my jaw, an action born of irritation and one I'd done a lot more lately, and quickened my step. He wouldn't find amusement at my expense.
When I was within reaching distance, he clasped onto my shoulders and spun me around so that I faced the girls. Just as I'd known I would, I liked it. I liked his hands on me. They were big and warm and calloused, almost like a live wire. I could feel the heat of him seeping into me.
The girls' expressions ranged from envious to amused to wicked and back to envious. Ryan's body nearly touched mine, chest to back, but he maintained a safe distance away.
I'd been with guys, so intimacy was no stranger to me. But I'd been with them for all the wrong reasons. Curiosity. Lying to myself, thinking it was what I needed to do to feel good about who and what I was. Craving affection I couldn't seem to find anywhere else. Now, this time, I wanted a boy to hold me because of who he was.
Why couldn't I have been attracted to a student?
Ryan stepped closer, his body brushing mine. He was so close, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, caressing. Goose bumps beaded over my skin. He squeezed my shoulders before wrapping his hands around my neck.