Michael rubbed his chest with the heel of his palm. “Was that necessary?”
She flashed a small grin. “Watch us.” Lily turned to Rafe with a small nod. He launched into attack with the same amount of ferocity that he held when he went after him.
Michael crossed his arms over his chest. Instead of Lily ending up on her ass, she dodged his blows. The entire time she kept her eyes on Rafe. Within seconds she pushed forward, and to Rafe’s irritation, she easily deflected each kick and jab he sent her way.
“Arm!” she called a split second before Rafe threw a punch. “Leg!” she yelled again. Over and over, she called out each method of attack right as Rafe delivered it. He moved faster, but she still managed to catch it a second before he did. “Watch his body! See how the area tenses before he uses it. The muscles will twitch or tremor.” She blocked a fierce sidekick that would have hurt like holy hell.
His eyes narrowed on Rafe, eventually seeing what she pointed out. It was a fine tremor. No matter how Rafe tried to change it up, his body gave away his next move. After he picked that up and grew a bit more confident, his attention wandered over to Lily.
She was rather amazing to watch. Quick-footed and strong, she moved like a skilled dancer. She really got into it, too. Maybe a little too much. There was an air of violence to her. Part of her must thrive on it because eventually her lips curved into a delighted smile as Rafe grew more agitated with her ability to outperform him.
The midget ninja was enjoying herself.
A smile pulled at his lips as his hand slid under his shirt, over the crucifix she had brought to him.
Lily backed off, and Michael took her place with Rafe. After a few minutes, he was able to anticipate the moves. Not as quickly as she had, but he didn’t end up on his back again. That was a hell of an improvement. Even Rafe seemed to think so. Instead of breaking for lunch with the usual routine of running the underground tunnels, he allowed Michael to go straight to the cafeteria. He felt like he’d moved up a grade.
Lily disappeared while they headed to lunch, but returned a few minutes later looking…off. Michael watched her curiously as she grabbed some food. The whole time she kept her head down as she surveyed the piles of lunch meat.
“What’s up with her?” he asked around a mouthful of roast-beef sub.
Remy’s gaze flickered to Rafe. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“If you think you’re brave enough to broach that question with her, please let me know ahead of time,” said Rafe. “I would like to be out of swinging range.”
Michael snorted but didn’t respond. Lily sat beside him with a plate full of meat but no bread. She picked at the food listlessly, and no amount of effort Remy or Rafe made to draw her into conversation seemed to work.
He nudged her arm when Rafe and Remy left to dump their plates. “You okay?”
She glanced up, her expression unfathomable. “Yeppers.”
“You don’t seem so. Did something happen yesterday when you were gone?”
The cool exterior cracked a bit, but it wasn’t anger that poked through. It was agitation. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes shuttered. “No, nothing happened yesterday.”
His gaze dropped to the hand that rested next to her untouched plate. It trembled for a few seconds before it stilled. Lily seemed unaware of the movement. “Hey, if you need anyone to talk to?” he offered. “Though I don’t know how much help I’d be. I’m bat-shit crazy since I’ve been here.”
Lily laughed softly. She opened her mouth but caught a glimpse of the door and froze. He followed her gaze. Two Nephilim walked in. He recognized one of them as Micah, and he wasn’t a fan of the cocky son of a bitch. He’d trained a few times with him, and the guy seemed to take great relish in any mistake Michael made.
He’d never seen the other Nephilim, but he seemed important. He walked with an air of authority. A swagger that begged someone to try to mess with him. His long, black hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and he had the same pale blue eyes all the male Nephilim seemed to share. He was taller than Micah and much broader.
The newcomer looked down expectantly at Lily as they passed, as if he thought she would say something. Micah, on the other hand, shoved his middle finger in her face and mouthed, “Whore.”
Lily started to rise, but Michael was faster. Without thinking of the consequences—like getting his ass handed to him—he snapped the offensive finger backward. Micah let out a howl of pain that made Michael quite happy. “Try to act like a goddamn gentleman.”
“Oh snap.” Lily giggled.
The other Nephilim simply stared at him. “Well hello, rookie.” He had a strange accent. Slavic or Russian—someplace where it was cold and Michael had no intent on ever visiting.
Once the shock wore off, Micah was clamoring to get to Michael. God must have been smiling down on him because Rafe and Remy appeared and restrained Micah.
“You broke my fucking finger!”
Michael’s lips twisted. “Maybe you should learn how to speak to a lady?”
“A lady?” he sputtered. “Who in the hell are you talking about?”
He started forward again, but Lily stopped him. “Come on. It’s not worth it.”
Micah tried to shrug off the grip the other two had on him. “Man, I’m going to break every bone in your body.” He laughed. “You can count on it, you little prick.”
“Dude, let it go.” Remy pushed Micah back. “It’s only your finger. It will heal in a few hours.”
Lily shuffled Michael past them. “Adrian,” she greeted the Nephilim who had entered with Micah.
“You and I will be talking soon,” he replied.
She gave him a curt nod before turning back to Michael. “Come on, Superman. He packs some kryptonite in his punch.”
Behind them, Micah shrugged off Remy and Rafe, still cursing up a storm. Michael snickered, feeling kind of badass. “You know, I didn’t like the ass before. Never had a real reason, but now I do.”
Lily didn’t respond as she led him back to the training room. He had to walk fast to keep up with her. “You know, a thank-you would be nice,” he said after a few moments.
She frowned at him. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I would have taken care of him.”
Okay, never mind then. “So what was his deal?” he asked once they entered the training room. They had some time to kill before Remy and Rafe returned.
Lily shrugged as she walked away. “He’s an ass. You said it yourself.”
He followed her. “Most men don’t call a woman a whore for no reason.”
Her expression soured. “Um, thanks.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He stepped around the dummies he practiced stabbing techniques on. “He’s obviously got a problem with you.”
She picked up a wicked-looking blade. “It’s really none of your business.” She shoved the blade at him, handle first. Thank God. “Get to ripping and tearing.”
He flipped the blade in his hand. “So…what you got going on later?”
She stopped midstep. “What?”
“I’m asking what you’re doing later. Hunting? Clubbing?” he asked. “Whatever it is you Nephilim do when I’m locked in my cell—oh, I mean bedroom.”
Sighing, she gave him a dismissive wave. “Practice.”
He made a face at her rigid back. “I’m trying to make chitchat.” He sliced at the dummy. The synthetic skin was disturbingly lifelike. It split like butter.