Free Ivory Guard by Natalie Herzer

the small thing shouldn’t be capable of.
    Lillian put the crossbow she was holding aside and grabbed a sword. It was the simplest in design of the three to choose from, with a rather slender blade and wide cross-guard. The hilt felt good in her hand, the weight foreign and yet pleasant. A thrill went through her as she raised the sword in front of her and let the sunlight reflect of its sharp edge.
    “An Italian longsword. Interesting choice.”
    Raz moved to stand in the grassy backyard and motioned for her to follow him while suddenly a sword appeared in his other hand, the blade of which was broader and longer than her own. He looked rather magnificent and absolutely lethal with it. The angel of death. Yeah, she could see who might have given cause for such a name.
    “Let’s see how you move with it.”
    Without any other word of warning he came at her.
    For one terrifying moment Lillian stood motionless , staring at Raz, but then something inside her took over. With fluid movements she took her stance, quick on her feet, and blocked his attack. Eyes wide she stared at him with the sharp whisper of steel the only sound between them. Raz broke away and took a step back.
    “What the hell?” Lillian stared down at her hand as if she didn’t, or couldn’t, recognize it as being a part of her. The hand that had just gotten a mind of its own and pulled some – admittedly awesome – Hollywood movie stunt.
    “That was the Ivory in you. You kinda opened your file regarding universal knowledge about sword fighting. Call it part of your genetic make-up.”
    “For real?” He didn’t bother to answer that. “I knew this stuff would have an upside.”
    “With the stuff I assume you mean our training which isn’t finished? ”
    Again, without warning, he attacked.
    As her body danced to block and attack in return, the utter thrill of it had a bubble of excited laughter escaping her. “So why bother with the training?”
    “Because your brain might know what to do now, but your muscles don’t.” As if to pro ve his point he attacked again, moving so fast she didn’t react in time, stumbled and fell.
    But e ven knowing that her untrained muscles would be screaming at her for the sudden abuse tonight couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. This part was actually fun. And in the heat of the burning sun she had to admit she liked seeing Raz move, swift and strong and perfectly balanced. Frightening in his potential of violence and yet absolutely compelling in his predatory elegance. Muscle corded in his arms, shoulders and back - everything about him was a treat for the eyes. And finding herself the lone focus of his fierce, gray gaze, she knew the thrilling tug in her belly could only spell trouble, but luckily the rhythm of the fight kept her from dwelling too long on that thought.
    She couldn’t say how much time had passed or how often she had landed with her behind on the ground after her sense of balance had failed her, when Raz stepped back and finally signaled a break. Rubbing her hip where a nice bruise would probably bloom soon, she sat down on the porch steps. “You sure you aren’t the angel of discipline or some such?”
    “Yeah , pretty much. He’s my brother.”
    Of course .
    “ Heh. Could have fooled me.” She wiggled her finger at him. “Ha. I saw that.”
    The man could rant about her witty comments all he liked but she had noticed the small twitch in the corner of his mouth.
    W hile being here making that scowling man flash his dimple had somehow started to become her new mission.

EIGHT
    After two days of training her muscles were an aching mess, even the simple movement of chopping an onion too much for her arm. But she was in charge of dinner and at least her head was able to relax. As the mellow sounds of big band music drifted to her from the living room, she had to shake her head. If she had learned one thing about Raz it was regarding his taste in music, it didn’t know any boundaries.