Crave the Darkness by Amanda Bonilla Page B

hard kick. Followed through with a right hook, then a left. Kick, jab, swing. Elbow up, I rammed the heavy sandbag where my opponent’s face would be. It swung back and forth on its chain, and I lunged out of the way, leapt, and rammed my heel at stomach level. Sweat dripped down my neck, trickled under the white Under Armour T-shirt and soaked into the waistband of my yoga pants. I’d rather fight a living, breathing opponent, one who could actually hit back. But this early, I doubted I’d find anyone willing to j nm">ll’d ratoin me.
    Six in the morning, and I’d already been at it for two hours. It’s not like I could sleep. In fact, I doubted I’d ever sleep again.
Fantastic.
I’d done a total one-eighty, going from sleeping twenty hours a day to four. Somehow, though, beyond the pain of my broken heart, I felt a strange sense of calm. Not because Ty had found someone else to love—I’d never get over that—but rather, because I had answers. Before Tyler had left me, he’d said nothing was worse than the wondering. The
not
knowing. And he was right. At least I had an explanation for his silence. At least now I knew why he hadn’t called me when he’d come home. I rubbed at my sternum, trying to banish the hollow pain in my chest that would probably never leave me, before grabbing a towel and mopping the sweat off my face and neck. I thought I heard the gym doors swing open, but the sound was so faint, I almost hadn’t noticed. I closed my eyes, my hand easing to my side to retrieve the dagger I kept strapped to my thigh. Still and barely breathing, I let my unique senses do the work, zoning in on the sound and signature of the stealth-quiet form approaching, inaudible to anyone but me, and even I had to strain my ears and reach out with invisible feelers to both hear and feel the presence.
    When the hairs stood up on my arms and at the back of my neck, I knew it was time. Eyes open, I whirled around, grabbing my assailant by the collar—or rather, shirt—and pressing the dagger to his . . . er . . . chest instead of his throat.
    “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Asher said, too soft and calm for his size. I hadn’t noticed the first time I’d met him how big he really was. I guess the haunted look in his light amber eyes had distracted me from everything else. “I heard someone working out, thought I’d see what was up.”
    Interesting
. “I didn’t think anyone would be awake this early.”
    Asher shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t sleep much.”
    “Me either.” Well, not anymore.
    Asher looked down at the dagger I was still holding to his chest. “I can leave—if you want to be alone.”
    I sheathed the dagger, seeing my salvation in the tall Shaede, probably strong enough to break me in half. He wasn’t as big as Liam, but pretty damn close. How did I not notice it before?
    I’d decided after Xander left me alone last night, that the only way to rid the image of Ty and that other woman from my mind would be to beat myself into exhaustion. Besides, I owed it to Raif to be in my best fighting form. I couldn’t protect dick moping around feeling sorry for myself. And who better to give me a run for my money than Asher? I swept my hand in front of me, an invitation.
    “Mind if I stretch, first?”
    Whatever floats your boat, buddy
. I watched as he lifted an arm over his head, elbow to sky and palm to his back.
    “So,” he said, switching arms. “Why didn’t you pick me for your group of good little soldiers? Afraid I might be too rough for Raif’s star pupils?”
    The smirk on Asher’s face didn’t hide the hard glint of his eyes. I’d known tough guys like him. Hell, I was just like him. Acting like he didn’t give a shit was just a smoke screen to keep people at a distance. “Are you saying you want babysitting duty?”
    “Why not,” Asher said, moving on to stretch his hamstrings. “I haven’t seen much action lately.”
    Really? Action? Following Anya around