Taking It Up A Notch

Emma~

This is all my fault. Why did I have to mention how much I was enjoying these training sessions? Did it not occur to me that he might offer to take it up a notch?

Orion has introduced me to some of the best fighters in his family, and I am being humbled, to put it lightly. My lungs are on fire, and I can’t feel my legs. I was probably supposed to learn something from this, but all I’m picking up is how screwed I am if anyone half-decent makes their way past his security.

I’m not even fighting, just practicing stances over and over, which is a lot harder than you would think. Apparently, I lean too far to the left, but they needn’t have bothered saying anything as that’s where I tend to fall over each time.

Rather than enjoying this, Orion’s face looks grim while watching, and I wonder if this is worrying him to see how useless I am. We had a moment last night, and thinking about it lessens the pain slightly when standing up to go again.

Pressure points stand for nothing apparently if I can’t even approach my opponent properly, and it should have occurred to me that the other members were bowing out earlier because I am Orion’s future wife, not a serious contender.

Oh, how my ego is crying right now.

When Marcus, my newly appointed trainer, blows his whistle to declare this session over, I could drop from relief. My coma from a few weeks ago is looking pretty appealing right about now, and I won’t even need it to make myself sleep for a few days.

“I’ll walk you back?” Orion asks rather than says, which I like, and nod to him in reply... it’ll take time for my lungs to function well enough for speech again.

He doesn’t say much while he leads the way, and it’s hard to believe that I got him talking last night. It reminded me a bit of that night I tried to trick him, only I wasn’t faking it when asking the questions this time.

I’m curious to know more about the man behind the title, and it scares me a bit to know that I’m starting to understand his thought process in picking me.

Both of us are quite passionate about what we do, that much is obvious, but what I’m also sensing is the fact that we are both trying to live up to our dead parents’ legacy. Me with my mother’s cooking, and him with whatever it was his father did to damage him so much. It doesn’t take a shrink to diagnose daddy issues with Orion, and I wonder if it was his father that made him the man he was when we met.

Sometimes I wonder if I imagined that period, especially now while walking with him in companionable silence.

He’s quite patient with me, and I can’t promise that if the roles were reversed, that I wouldn’t have made a comment on how slow I am. My limbs feel five times heavier, and every joint is sore from pushing them to the limit. I knew there was a reason I never took up yoga back home.

We’re about halfway back towards the house when he pauses for a second and looks at me.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you hold my hand, it might help a bit. You can lean on me while I pull you along?”

He looks as if he’s offering his hand to a tiger, but rather than live up to that expectation, I surprise us both by taking it. It’s not like it means that much in the grand scheme of things to take my fiancée’s hand, and we’d probably get home much faster if helps to drag my useless carcass back anyway.

His palms are rough against mine as the calluses scrape my skin, but he’s warm, and I didn’t realize that I was also starting to get cold.

After this new development, neither of us dares to speak, and it’s the first time I’ve felt like part of a couple when walking back with him, hand in hand.

I used to dream about this when I was newly turned eighteen, and I can’t deny how nice it is just to feel a bond growing between us, no matter how fragile and tentative it remains. There’s no fighting, no tension, just companionship, and I think I like it.

A shower is certainly called for when I get back, but what would be even better is a bath. My room doesn’t come with one, and I wonder if it would be taking things too far to request one?

I bite my lip when I consider if a long soak is worth the possible friction, and it helps that the internal conflict is distracting me from the pain while we walk. I just know that this relief is temporary, and once I sit down, all of my joints are going to stiffen up as if I were actually as dead as I feel.

To hell with it, it’s not like I’m asking him to join me or anything.

“Orion,” I start, and his head shoots in my direction instantly as if I’ve just prodded him. “Do you, erm, maybe think it would be possible for me to borrow your bathroom... for a bath?”

My words come out as if a toddler is still learning how to speak, and if I wasn’t so mortified with myself, I’d have read into the smile creeping onto his face.

“I don’t know, Princess... I’m a cleanly man, and I’d rather not have your germs all over my things. A bath is a personal thing, you know.”

He’s mocking me, and he’s enjoying the fact that I’ve had to ask. I narrow my eyes, knowing he’s trying to get me to bite.

“Nevermind, I’ll just get my own shower dirty instead,” I emphasize the word dirty, and the reaction is just as I’d hoped.

The once-blue eyes are starting to darken rather quickly, and the skin under my hand is heating up more as well.

“Touché, Princess. But of course, you can.” He shakes his head while laughing, and I like that I’ve gotten him so frazzled with only one suggestive word. How much further could I work him up if I wanted to?