Forsaken Angels: Lucifer

Ch 11: Playing With Fire

Cassandra

While Luce and the other Forsaken continue talking, I flex my fingers, wishing there was something I could do to help. Wired and anxious after the horrifying news of the Hellbound's latest attack, I'm itching to do something, anything. Another family lost, just like mine.

I nearly jump when someone gently nudges my upper arm, too lost in thought to have noticed anyone approaching me. It's Luce.

"You're unusually quiet. Everything all right?"

"I..." Fiddling with the hem of my jumper, I stare at the map with the ominous scattering of black dots. "Yes. Just wish I could do more."

"Understandable." His voice is gentle. Part of me wants to confess how overwhelmed I feel by the enormity of the threat we face, but I hold back. I don't want him to think I'm weak.

"Did you say there are training rooms?" I say, changing the topic. "I wouldn't mind doing something physical for a bit. Clear my head."

With a nod, he leads me out of the command centre and back the way we came, to a set of doors. He lets us inside a large training room. My eyes widen as I take in the array of weapons lining the walls—swords, knives, bows, even a few I don't recognise. Training dummies and sparring mats are spaced out across the floor.

"Wow." I wander inside, marvelling at the sheer size of the space. "And here I've been training in our living room with mostly just my dagger."

Luce chuckles. "We've had quite some time to collect weapons."

I trail my fingers along the cool metal of a blade displayed on the wall. My mind is still reeling from Valderon's grim report. Azazel and the Hellbound have to be stopped, whatever it takes. But how do I broach the subject of our deal? Luce made his stance quite clear earlier.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I might just have to find the right time and ask him outright. I pick up a wooden training staff and turn to face him, lifting my chin in challenge.

"Feel like sparring?"

His eyes glint with amusement and a hint of...hunger? "Think you can take me?"

Weighing the staff in my hands, I shrug. "With this? Most likely not. I've only used one a handful of times at most. But I'd like to try."

He shrugs out of his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves before picking up a staff. He spins it around with a skill that I definitely don't possess.

We circle each other, trading tentative jabs. Testing, teasing. Luce moves with a fluid grace, his every motion precisely controlled. It's like dancing with a panther—all coiled power and deadly intent.

He's definitely holding back. Whether out of chivalry or arrogance, I don't know, but it's infuriating. Gritting my teeth, I lash out with a flurry of blows. He deflects them easily, that infuriating smirk curling his lips.

"You've got spirit," he says. "But your technique needs work."

"Then teach me." That comes out a little more testy than I intended, but I don't enjoy being coddled.

His dark eyes flash, and he closes the distance between us in one stride. Before I know it, he's whirled me around and my back rests against his hard chest. Large hands cover mine on the staff, adjusting my grip. I suck in a breath at the electric tingle of his skin against mine.

"Spread your hands further apart," he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear. "It gives you more leverage."

I try to focus on his instructions and not on the way his proximity makes my pulse race. It's easier said than done. He takes me through a series of strikes and blocks, his touch lingering longer than necessary, the familiar hum of attraction teasing across my skin. By the time we pull apart, I'm flushed and breathing hard.