Stay Away | Eric Coulter [1]

thirteen

I jolted awake to the now familiar- but no less annoying- sound of metal clanking. There wasn't a need to see what was the source of all that noise. I already knew I would find my brother standing at the door with that damn metal rod in his hand as he continues his assault on the poor railing.

"You know what to do," Tobias states in a bored tone, "Two minutes."

I groan, pulling my pillow over my face to shield my eyes from the blinding lights.

"Now!" Tobias's voice booms across the room and I drop the pillow to look up.

Everybody had paused what they were doing and was now staring right at me. My gaze flashes back to meet my brother's and I narrow my eyes at him. Ass.

As if we had some kind of sibling telepathic connection, Tobias rolls his eyes before leaving the room.

I jump out of bed with a sigh and quickly throw on a change of clothes before heading out the door. I might have been the last one out of bed, but I was still one of the first out the door.

When I get to the Pit, I shoot Tobias a sarcastic smile, to which he gives a dry look in return.

Of course, Eric is already with him, as always. I'm not sure why he sticks around that much since he technically isn't our instructor. Still, he's always hovering around like a very intimidating looking- and very attractive- gnat.

I take my position in front of them as the rest of the initiates start to file in.

I'm particularly aware of the way Eric's eyes observed me with an intensity that makes me want to curl into a ball.

For the first time in possibly my life, I'm wearing a tank top since my bruises have since faded enough to allow for one without raising questions, and Eric's gaze takes in every in of exposed skin as if he was searching for something. Then, it hits me- he was looking for my tattoo.

As his eyes finally trekked up to meet mine, I raise a brow at him tauntingly. He simply smirks at me which confirmed my suspicions, and I can't help but hear his voice in my head from the other day at the shooting range, telling me how he likes a challenge. I guess getting a glimpse of my ink is a challenge he's eager to take on.

After making sure everyone was already present, Tobias starts towards a table and targets that have been set up in the corner.

"Throwing knives," He says, lifting one of them. "Most of you have gotten the hang of shooting with guns. Now, we're going to see how you fare with these." My brother picks up several from the table and walks towards the tow of targets, "Watch closely, I'm only going to demonstrate once."

He breezes through as he goes, but does it so quickly it barely has the chance to sink in before he lifts a knife over his head and throws it right at a target.

The knife lands with a loud thud, sticking right in the centre of the human-shaped target's chest.

Once again, no matter how big of an asshole my brother has been, I find my chest swelling with pride at how he excels at everything thing he does.

"There's a set of knives laid out on the table for each of you," He says, "Collect your knives and start practicing."

I procure a target for myself with my knives in hand, making sure to stay a good amount of distance away from Drew this time around. The dude already glares daggers my way every time we crossed paths and so I try to steer clear of the guy.

"You're not going to accidental stab someone with that, right?" I let out a sigh at the sound of the voice as Peter comes into view, claiming the target beside me.

Peter and Drew are buds, which is why I get the impression he's here to give me shit about what happened between me and his friend.

"Relax, stiff. I come in peace," He says as though he was able to read my thoughts, "You're definitely more likeable than the other stiff."

It's funny he even says that, because I don't think I've ever even interacted with him before now.

I shoot him a skeptical look and he simply laughs, "If you think I'm mad about what happened with Drew, he's the only one who's still all worked up about it."

Rolling my eyes at him, I send a knife flying to my target, copying my brother's movements to the best of my abilities and was satisfied to see that it landed on the board. It wasn't a bullseye, but it was close.

"So, what do you want?" I ask when I feel Peter watching me, tired of beating around the bush.

"Straight to the point, I see." He nods as he throws one of his knives as well. It lands in the middle and I wonder if this guy is just naturally gifted or if he'd somehow done this before. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Still doesn't explain why you're talking to me," I reply.

"Oh, come on, stiff. I just wanted us to be friends." Peter sounded slightly offended.

I let out a sigh, raising a hand to throw one more knife at my target. Just like the last time, it lands slightly off the centre. But hey, I'm not complaining. This is turning out a whole lot better than it did with shooting.

"Well, calling me a stiff isn't a good way to start off a friendship. Do you even know my name?"

Peter shrugs, "Of course, I do."

"Uh-huh," I raise a brow at him, "What is it, then?"

"Nina."

I shoot him an unimpressed look, to which Peter answers with, "What? Did I get it wrong?" Sounding genuinely confused.

Before I can correct him, Eric's voice cuts through the room. "Myra, why don't you switch places with Peter." Although it's phrased like a question, it isn't. It was more of an order.

Myra and Peter don't argue, quickly switching places. I smile at the girl who takes Peter's place before turning to face my target.

As I'm getting ready to throw one another knife, I feel Eric's presence behind me.

At first, I think he was coming to rip me a new one for not focusing, but then, I feel his arm coming around my waist.

"Legs should be apart," He instructs, kicking them apart like he said they should be. "Pivot your hips when you throw. That way there'll be more pressure."

With a hand on my hip and the other wrapped around my hand that was holding the knife, he goes through the motion with me.

Seemingly satisfied, he nods. "Now, try it."

I do, letting the knife soar through the air before it lands dead centre, exactly where the head should be with a loud thud.

"Good," He praises.

Then, I feel him reach up and push my ponytail to the side. A shiver works its way up my spine at the feel of his fingertips brushing across the back of my neck.

Eric's silent for a moment before he speaks, "I like it." He mutters for my ears only. It was only then did I realise that he was looking at my tattoo.

His hand that was still on my hip slides up to linger on my waist for a quick second before he finally takes a step back.

"Carry on, initiate." Eric says, louder this time, exuding confidence, every bit the leader that he is as he starts to move down the row again.