Free Arrow to the Soul by Lea Griffith

aimed her strikes for the head and torso. She’d bruise from this exercise, but the presence of the training piece piqued her need to release energy. And the dummy couldn’t cheat by sticking her with a tranquilizer.
    Adam Collins’ face floated behind Arrow’s closed eyes and she breathed through her rage. The other emotion he stirred in her she silenced with an elbow strike between the arm slats of the dummy, hoping the pain of her elbow connecting with the wood would center her.
    It didn’t. Sweat poured off her and her arms moved faster, palms striking, knuckles contacting the wood more viciously. Bleed , she thought. Bleed and the pain will be purged .
    It wasn’t working and now her hands were numbing. If she couldn’t feel the pain, she would be lost.
    “Stop it, Saya!”
    Now she was hearing his voice. She ceased her frantic fight with the inanimate wooden dummy and hung her head.
    “Why do you do this?”
    She blew out a heavy breath and raised her head. He stood in front of her, behind the dummy, his black eyes narrowed, confusion a mask over his features.
    “Pain centers me,” she said, and glanced at her split knuckles.
    “Pain is a distraction,” he responded.
    “Kokoro no oni ga mi wo séméru,” she whispered.
    “I don’t speak Japanese.”
    She laughed. It was an ugly sound in the stillness of the room. “You should learn. It’s a beautiful language.”
    “What does it mean?” he asked, throwing her a towel.
    She caught it and wiped her face. “What does what mean?”
    He grunted. “What you said. What does it mean?”
    “The body is tortured only by the demon of the heart.”
    “You’re possessed then?”
    She stared at him, shaking her head. “That would require a soul. And I have none, remember?”
    He nodded and sat down on a workout bench. “Ah yes, the ever present lack of a soul. That would definitely rule you out to demonic possession. So tell me why you would beat a wooden dummy to death.”
    She cocked her head. “Because you weren’t available?”
    He snorted and the smile cracking his solemn face was beautiful. It took her breath and she wished she’d never opened her eyes.
    “I didn’t think your mean ass had a sense of humor,” he said.
    “I can laugh, Mr. Collins,” she responded without heat. She did laugh, frequently, if for no other reason than to remember the mechanics so she could duplicate them when necessary.
    She could smell him. Citrus and cedar, the blend suited him though she detected no cologne and assumed it was his natural scent. Did the smell grow stronger when he was aroused?
    “What has your mind right now?”
    His gaze was piercing and she realized she was staring at him.
    “You.” She would have winced, decided it was a wasted effort.
    Truth was the only pure virtue she’d been blessed with. Better she utilize it because time flowed endlessly, and each of them only had so much of it until death found them.
    Adam stood then and walked to her. It was only a few feet, but he prowled much like a panther, his grace inherent and making her long for the texture of his skin beneath her palms, the feel of the muscles gliding under his bronze flesh.
    “What about me?”
    He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. His presence commanded her body in that moment. Her breath hurried in and out of her lungs, pumping her blood furiously through her veins and bringing a flush to her cheeks. Were her eyes bright with the moisture her mind refused to shed?
    She wanted him. And it fucking hurt. Never had Saya wanted so badly. And he was within her reach. Yet he would shun her because she was nothing more than Arrow. Please, let him shun her. A killer , he’d said and it was truth.
    “What about me?” he asked again, and his voice was velvet stroking along her unsettled nerves.
    She stepped back, retreat the better part of valor. He could have her and it wasn’t okay. It could never be okay. She must right this ship, calm the waters of her writhing