29. training day
G A Y L E
❝DO YOU HAVE even the slightest bit of experience in hand to hand combat?" Apollo's voice is drowned out by the sight of the most beautiful training room I've ever seen in my life.
Black PVC and leather flooring has been plastered onto the ground, sanctioning my bare toes as I step into the dark room.
Every square inch of the black walls has a shelf on it housing multiple different things. Weights and dumbbells and other things to keep fit are neatly tucked into the shelves on one side.
There is a weapons dispensary stacked on the shelves on the other sides. Multiple different types of daggers, brass knuckles, throwing stars, bows, arrows and any other type of weapon you could possibly imagine are decorating the wall.
Smack in the middle of the wall is a giant blurred glass case, I can't tell what's in there but whatever it is draws my interest. I try to shake it off, focusing my gaze back on Apollo who looks very proud of himself.
Multiple dummies, targets and punching bags are stacked carelessly in the back, creating space for Apollo and I to roam free.
"I could probably kick your ass if I really wanted to, Apollo." I smirk, answering his prior words with all the confidence in the world knowing damn well that I'm talking shit.
Apollo seems mildly impressed by my response, though a smidgen of doubt etches itself onto his face with the arch of his brow.
"You? Kick my ass? The same girl who's basic instinct is to run away screaming at any sign of danger?" He counters in disbelief.
It's hard to concentrate on anything he's saying cause I'm too busy drooling over his gorgeous body. He's changed into a black tank top and grey sweatpants.
I've been trying to ignore the way his muscles flex and relax so easily, and how his veins are so clear and visible under the light of the training room.
He's wearing a thin gold chain around his neck and the drawing of the sun on the back of his neck is no longer black like a tattoo, but is glowing the same shade of yellow light his eyes sometimes glow for no reason.
I roll my eyes at his words, ripping my gaze away from his sculpted body. I can see his abs through his shirt, and I find myself thinking he might as well take it off seeing as his abs prefer to bulge through in any case.
"I took mixed martial arts classes for a while in high school. Don't be fooled by this weakened version of myself, I was once a great warrior." I reply sarcastically, swirling my toes along the PVC carpeting.
"I'll believe it when I see it," he shakes his head passively. "We've had plenty of opportunities but I've never seen you make a fist. I call bullshit." He retorts, flicking his hair to the side.
Childishly, I blow a raspberry at him. "Allow me to demonstrate, then." The truth is that I prefer not to fight, but if I absolutely have to, I will defend myself. It's all in the spirit of self preservation.
Apollo smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as intrigue flashes through his eyes. "You challenging me to a fight, Lovegrove?" He questions me, taking slow calculated steps closer and closer to me.
I've seen this movie a thousand times, the man takes steps forward and the woman retreats fearfully, whimpering.
Well, I'm not that woman. Instead, I drive my feet closer to him so that we're a hairsbreadth away from each other. "You ready to get your ass handed to you, loser?"
His smirk widens, one of his dimples deepening.
The air in the room is thick with tension as I peer into his clear grey eyes. He glared back into mine fearlessly. My heart beats into my ears.
Then he launches his first attack, hurling a punch at my face. I dodge it just in time in time to hurl one back at him, instead of dodging mine, he grabs my fist in his palm.
I try to punch him using my free hand, he grabs that one too, weakening his grip on my other fist just enough for me to break free then I use that hand to release the other and push him.
He blinks a few times, stumbling back at the unexpected force of my actions. His gaze widens as I pound his chest once, then land a sturdy punch to his nose.
The sound echoes throughout the room as he grabs me by the waist and pulls me closer to him, his arm enclosing around my neck and tightening.
It's getting hard to breathe, so I stomp on his feet, "ouch!" He yelps, loosening his grip just enough for me to turn on him and get behind him, wrapping my thin yet surprisingly strong arm around his neck.
He falls to his knees, banging his fists against the carpet as I tighten my grip. His face is turning red yet somehow he summons the remainder of his energy and reaches out, his arms wrap around my torso. The subtlety with which he does so throws me off and my grip loosens on his neck.
Suddenly I'm whizzing through the air. HE THREW ME!
I land on the mat with a loud thud facing up. My own heavy panting is the only sound I can hear.
Apollo's mop of blond hair suddenly clouds my vision, but somehow there's three of him. I blink a few times, trying to get my head on straight.
It seems all the years I've spent running instead of fighting have taken their toll on me and now I'm a little rusty.
His grin is so wide his teeth are showing. "Need a hand up, oh great warrior?" He whistles, a smug look making its way onto his already smug face.
I nod, defeated. He shakes his head, drawing in a deep breath to hide his laughter and holds out a hand for me.
I take it, then use it to propel myself up while simultaneously bringing him down. His eyes widen when he realises what I'm doing. He loses balance and timbers to the ground, but not before tightening his grasp, I've barely even made it up far enough to take a step when he tightens his grip, bringing me down on top of him.
Each leg is on either side of his torso and sweat trickles down his sculpted face as he pants heavily. Realising he's been defeated, he chuckles, turning his gaze upwards into the sky with a sigh, "man, are you annoying." He sighs.
This time I'm the one that's grinning. "I'd be nice to me if I were you, Apollo. Last time I checked I was the one with the upper hand."
There's a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then somehow he flips us around. This time he's the one on top of me, and our bodies are breathing in sync.
His face is so close to mine that if I make even the slightest movement, we might end up kissing again.
Just that thought causes goosebumps to creep up my skin once again. There's a triumphant look in his eyes. "You were saying?" He remarks, realising that he now has the upper hand.
"Oh, fuck you." I groan, refusing to admit defeat. We continue our heavy panting, and now the heat is even stronger than it was before.
"If you really want to," he mutters into my ear, so softly that if we weren't so close to each other I wouldn't have heard him.
Our eyes meet and the entire environment changes, even the heat is a different kind now as his eyes glaze over with another emotion. His breath is fanning my face, a deadly combination of whiskey and mint seduces me closer to him.
His eyes dart to my lips, his own parting with delicious desire as he places his bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it after a few excruciating moments.
I can almost taste his lips on mine when a deeper part of my subconscious begs me to stop, reaching me and shaking me awake.
Drops of dread make their way into my veins as I snap out of whatever trans I was in back there. I blink a few times and then push Apollo off of me with a devious grin. He falls onto his back next to me.
"Nice try but it's gonna take a lot more than that to get into my pants." I state nonchalantly, looking up into the ceiling.
He sighs. "Bite me, Lovegrove." His voice is leaking with a strange mix of humour and anguish, as if I'd just denied him a drop of water after a decade in the desert.
We both lay there for another few moments in a comfortable silence. Normally I don't do well with silences, I always feel the need to fill the air with pointless conversation and forced replies but today, for the first time ever I feel that it's not necessary.
I'm perfectly happy in the buzzing silence of our heavy breathing, this is far more comfortable than any silence I've ever been in before.
More time passes, and then finally Apollo sits up, urging me to sit up as well.
We both look at each other, blank yet somehow content expressions written on both of our faces.
"I have something for you." He hops up and strolls across the training room to the side with all the weapons.
With all the ease and lazy confidence in the world, he opens up the blurry glass container in the center of the wall.
A katana sword rests in a glorious black stand, upright with a soft leather black hilt.
Apollo grabs it out of the case and makes his way back over to me as my eyes narrow curiously. He brushes his fingers against the blade. "This is Bellator." He explains, placing the large sword down next to me. "The blade is made up of an alloy, a combination of carbonated steel and deicidium." My brows furrow at the second thing he mention, eyes darting up to meet his.
"Deicidium?" I ask, hoping there's a reason I've never heard of that metal before.
He nods. "It's a powerful metal. One strong enough to injure even a god," he nods to Bellator. "Impaling a god with deicidium will render him weakened and powerless for a long time before they can recharge. That's why Bellator is my most prized possession. I won her as a prize in battle against an ancient Japanese warrior. A samurai." I now stare at the beautiful one of a kind katana sword with wonder and bewilderment in my eyes, completely transfixed by the beautiful sword.
"I want you to have it." My eyes dart to Apollo at his words, heartbeat quickening at thought of being able to wield Bellator on my own.
"What?" I gasp, grabbing the sword into my hands. She's a little heavy, holding onto her is going to take a shit-ton of practice.
My fingers start to buzz at the touch of the sword, my eyes drift back to Apollo.
"Why?" I ask him and he shrugs in response.
"No mortal can survive this world without a sword." He answers, a proud expression flitting onto his face at the sight of my hands around Bellator's hilt.
We fit together like a puzzle, it just works. Her touch is electric.
"Ready to learn a bit of sword fighting?"