I tried to gauge his expression, to see if he knew what I did and what I was going to do. But if he did, he wouldn't have knocked, and he wouldn't seem smug and nervous at the same time.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, it came out breathless and slightly high pitched as I stepped out and closed the door behind me.
He raised a brow and his eyes narrowed. "You usually train with Daniel at this time, right? Since he's not here, I figured you could do it with me. Wouldn't want to deprive you the chance of knowing how to properly punch me next time."
I willed myself to calm down. Imagining training with him, throwing punches at him, did make it easier. I shrugged. "Not like I have anything better to do."
Because of you, I didn't add. He heard it anyway and flinched slightly.
"Come on," I said, stepping around him and headed to the training room.
I kicked off my shoes and knotted my hair into a bun at the base of my neck. I went into position, spreading my legs slightly and bending my knees. He followed suit, taking off his boots, and shifting into stance. Despite the tension earlier, his face lit up with a feral grin.
My blood boiled and I lunged first, aiming at his sternum. He blocked all of my hits, and even though we were training, even though he was supposed to, he never went into offence. The minutes wore on until my knuckles were bloody, as if I were punching steel, or a brick wall.
I knew it wasn't training anymore, at least not for me. It was a way to get my anger out, my frustration. With an incoherent yell, I ignored what Daniel had taught me, and just lunged. A full body lunge with no tactic and with no intention other than to do some damage.
He caught my wrists and caged me to him, walking forward and dragging me against the wall.
"Cerise, stop!" he growled when I started thrashing. "Rage, any emotions at all, don't make you fight better. Is that what Daniel was teaching you? To get angry?"
It was actually the opposite. Clear your mind, don't get angry, and don't think. If Daniel saw how I was right now, he'd freak.
I searched his face. His eyes showed that he knew it was more than that, that there was a reason I was this way now with him. I didn't like how anguished he looked.
"Then why?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
Don't say anything to make him suspicious, I warned myself. Too late.
"You can't be serious," I snarled. "You cage me here and you say what's wrong. You keep secrets and don't tell me why. Why do you not want the commander to know about me. Why are you running tests on me. Why!"
"You paint me the villain, when you know you can't leave yet! Not unless you want the whole country, and world to know what you are!"
He didn't say anything about my other questions and demands.
"And that's not why you're upset. Not even close," he growled, changing the topic, and pressing me harder against the wall.
I laughed, the sound devoid of humor. "Tell me then, if you know me so well."
He leaned closer, and when I tried to punch him again, he pulled my arms and pinned them over my head.
"You're frustrated that even though you paint me the villain, hate my secrets, you still want me."
"You say it like there's something between us."
"There is," he growled again.
"Not if I deny it."
"Deny this," he snarled and crashed his lips against mine.