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       CHAPTER SIX

      The sound of clashing sticks and steady breathing permeated the quiet morning air. The Bennett brothers’ daily training was in full swing. It was warm, the forest streaked with gentle rays of sunlight that filtered through the trees.

      Ethan and Jenna circled each other, both using long sticks to either attack or defend in a whirl of swift, steady movements.

      The dance was smooth, rapid, focused. Tainted with an underlying frustration that seemed to have upped a notch this morning. A result of circumstances or the fact that he’d followed her?

      I came to check on Mason. Right.

      He had no reason to doubt her, but instinct told him she hadn’t been entirely honest. There was more. To her excuse. To her. He knew that, but the woman kept a Great Wall of China between herself and everyone else and he wasn’t sure if he had the energy or the inclination to break through.

      Because breaking through walls meant caring. And that stirred up heaps of crap he usually avoided.

      She mirrored his movements perfectly, making it impossible for him to gain an inch of ground. She shielded his every blow, constantly engaging with an overbearing force that had him more on the defensive than offensive.

      Adrenaline soared, their bodies sleeked in thin layers of sweat, and they fought on, breathless, determined, the practice session as thrilling as it was necessary.

      Jenna used her stick to field his next hit, retaliating with one of her own. He moved, but not fast enough, the weapon connecting him on the shoulder with a powerful force, missing the side of his head by an inch.

      “Whoa, Jenna!” He broke away, frowning at her as he rubbed his shoulder. “Rule of combat practice – attack the aggression, not the aggressor.”

      “You should be defending your red zone, Ethan. You left yourself wide open.” She poked his chest with the stick.

      His hand shot up, clutching her weapon. Grinning, he gave a hard tug, taking pleasure in the way she launched forward.

      In a swift movement, he had her pinned beneath him, the stick at her throat.

      He raised a brow. “Wide open?”

      With a loud grunt, her knee jerked upward, dislodging his hold on her. She was on her feet in a flash, smiling. Panting, she backed off, lowering her weapon, but sprang into action the moment Ethan’s brother, Declan, pounced.

      Stick raised, she swung around and ducked as Declan charged. He wielded his own stick, bulldozing full steam ahead with his surprise attack.

      Their fight was swift, their bodies moving between the trees with breathless pace.

      “Wow, Declan, frustrated much?” Jenna moved around him in a steady flow of fancy footwork, easily defending his blows with her own.

      “Scared of some friendly banter, Blondie?”

      She lowered her body, ducking his next attack, smiling with satisfaction when her stick connected with his legs. She pulled back, circling him, a mild grin breaking free. “Is that what this is? Friendly?”

      “Of course.”

      “Right.”

      They stood staring at each other, breathlessly assessing the distance and range of the weapons between them.

      Simultaneously, they charged.

      Sticks clashed, louder and with added hostility as they performed a perfect mirroring drill, anticipating each other’s moves with ease.

      Ethan glanced at Archer, watching the tussle quietly, arms folded across his chest. His oldest brother exerted a permanent control and calm that Declan lacked. They were so different in so many ways.

      Declan lunged for Jenna, releasing a growl of frustration. Ethan frowned at the scent of aggression that lined their fight – a fight born out of need for building strength and endurance.

      But this was different.

      Archer’s expression tightened and the slight narrowing of his eyes hinted that he sensed it too.

      Declan stepped back, twisted his stick, and charged. In a blur of speed, Jenna took a running leap. Anticipating her move, he joined her, sailing through the air with ease.

      Their collision was loud, powerful, their sticks clattering on impact. They were still fighting as they fell, their landing less skilled. They parted, straightened their sticks, and stared at each other, frustration sizzling between them.

      Jenna glared at him, her jaw clenched, her shoulders rising and falling in breathy gasps of air. With a soft curse, she lowered her weapon, shaking her head.

      “Had enough?” Declan goaded as she turned around.

      Ignoring him, she walked away, but drew to an abrupt stop as a single line of fire reared to life in front of her. She spun around to face Declan, her mouth opening in surprise.

      Another line of fire roared to life in front of her, cutting her off. She slammed her stick on the ground. “Dammit, Declan! Cut that out!”

      The line of fire chased around her, closing in. Realising she was about to be imprisoned, she bolted for the remaining gap between the blaze, cursing when Declan added more heat, more energy. The circle closed before she reached it, flames rearing up with a force that had her backing to the centre of the circle.

      The sound of fire crackled around her, the flames almost at shoulder height.

      “Something wrong?” Declan called out, his voice laced with mild amusement. “Come on, Blondie. Can’t fight your way out of this?”

      “You’re being a dick, Declan.”

      “We’re at war. You need to be prepared.”