Giftless

Chapter Fifteen

"Harder," he coaxed, holding his flat palms out, taunting me. "You can do better than that, Nessa."

Gene was in ill-fitting gym-clothes, though the t-shirt had come off. It got in the way, he claimed. Of what, I didn't ask, as I doubted I wanted to know the answer. In the training room with us were Cathy and Georgia. The pair had wandered in earlier, keeping to themselves, present due to curiosity, not because either wished to try their luck against us. Everyone was interested in the Dark Wielder, who had made himself surprisingly helpful, from suggesting changes to the perimeter's ward structure, to running training sessions for the youngest amongst us, the children who were under thirteen. Naturally, he was always watched by Erin's elite.

"I don't want to hurt you," I countered, knowing only enough about throwing punches to tuck my thumb outside, not inside, my fist. Having found out how little training I had received as a wielder, I had become Gene's new pet project. I guessed it was a way for him to keep busy, to not think on all he had lost. On all I had lost him.

In between chores, we had spent the last week in the training room. It was unusually empty lately and we did not need to negotiate with other interested parties. In all my years in Saltcombe, I had never known the place so quiet. As though it was waiting for something, holding its breath.

Gene's eyebrows rose into his jagged fringe, clumped with sweat. "We both know that's not true," he said. "Remember that time in the simulation, when I pushed you a little too far? You almost killed me that day."

"A little too far?" I felt my lip twitch. "I lost four days and it was your fault. You're always pushing me, even at the Treaty Ball."

"I suppose my conduct wasn't exactly..."

"Gentlemanly," I supplied.

"Yeah," he grinned. "That."

I threw my weight forwards, fist going with it as more an afterthought than with any actual force. I hadn't known I was going to fall until he caught me, stopping me from landing in a heap. We had the crash mats, I needn't have feared. I was safe.

There was no danger here, not the conventional sort. Only him, burning against me, even without his magic, his fire. I could feel everywhere he touched me, as though his fingers could burn through the thin cotton I wore. Those ocean-eyes were fixed on mine and his mouth was close, holding that infernal, mocking tilt.

A new sound from the doorway had us both jump, as Gene quickly rocked back on his heels, pulling me upright.

"Ian," I greeted him, without feeling the smile. "We were training." It sounded false, even though it was true.

"I'm taking over as your Dark Wielder's guard for tonight," he said, sounding tired, as though this was the last place he wanted to be. I had barely seen him all week. Whatever efforts Erin had been making in her latest scheme to keep us safe, they had occupied his time constantly. And everyone else's. How many meetings were needed in one day and what was even being discussed?

"Have you eaten yet?"

"I will, later," he said.

"I'll fix you something—"

"No, I really am fine," said Ian, slanting a glance behind me. "Besides, you're busy here."

Gene's voice sliced through the silence that had been quick to descend around us. "What do you guys do for fun around here? No, I'm not asking you, Captain Perfect," he sighed, slumping to the ground. "I don't think you'd understand the concept."