o_18vdqvms01tdp1ck54q91frg17mg2d.pdf
He'd technically been up all of the Academy's night and had probably only just gotten back. Ugh. I wouldn't have been so quick to encourage him to help her if I'd known it'd result in this. "Well," I said hastily. "I guess that means practice is canceled—" "Be quiet and put these on." She handed me some training mitts. They were similar to boxing gloves but not as thick and bulky. They shared the same purpose, however: to protect your hands and keep you from gouging your opponent with your nails. "We've been working on silver stakes," I said sulkily shoving my hands into the mitts. "Well, today we're doing this. Come on." Wishing I'd been hit by a bus on my walk from the dorm today, I followed her out toward the center of the gym. Her curly hair was pinned up to stay out of the way, revealing the back of her neck. The skin there was covered in tattoos. The top one was a serpentine line: the promise mark, given when guardians graduated from academies like St. Vladimir's and agreed to serve. Below that were the molnija marks awarded each time a guardian killed a Strigoi. They were shaped like the lightning bolts they took their name from. I couldn't gauge exact numbers, but let's just say it was a wonder my mom had any neck left to tattoo. She'd wielded a lot of death in her time. When she reached the spot she wanted, she turned toward me and adopted an attack stance. Half expecting her to jump me then and there, I quickly mirrored it. "What are we doing?" I asked. "Basic offensive and defensive parrying. Use the red lines." "That's all?" I asked. She leapt toward me. I dodged—just barely—and tripped over my own feet in the process. Hastily, I righted myself. "Well," she said in a voice that almost sounded sarcastic. "As you seem so keen on reminding me, I haven't seen you in five years. I have no idea what you can do."
She moved on me again, and again I just barely kept within the lines in escaping her. That quickly became the pattern. She never really gave me the chance to go on the offensive. Or maybe I just didn't have the skills to take the offensive. I spent all my time defending myself— physically, at least. Grudgingly, I had to acknowledge to myself that she was good. Really good. But I certainly wasn't going to tell her that. "So, what?" I asked. "This is your way of making up for maternal negligence?" "This is my way of making you get rid of that chip on your shoulder. You've had nothing but attitude for me since I arrived. You want to fight?" Her fist shot out and connected with my arm. "Then we'll fight. Point." "Point," I conceded, backing up to my side. "I don't want to fight. I've just been trying to talk to you." "Mouthing off to me in class isn't what I'd really call talking. Point." I grunted from the hit. When I'd first begun training with Dimitri, I'd complained that it wasn't fair for me to fight someone a foot taller than me. He'd pointed out that I'd fight plenty of Strigoi taller than me and that the old adage was true: size doesn't matter. Sometimes I thought ht was giving me false hope, but judging from my mom's performance here, I was starting to believe him. I'd never actually fought anyone smaller than me. As one of the few girls in the novice classes, I accepted that I was almost always going to be shorter and slimmer than my opponents. But my mother was smaller still and clearly had nothing but muscle packed into her petite body. "I have a unique style of communication, that's all," I said. "You have a petty teenage delusion that you've somehow been wronged for the last seventeen years." Her foot hit my thigh. "Point. When in reality, you've been treated no differently than any other dhampir. Better, actually. I could have sent you off to live with my cousins. You want to be a blood whore? Is that what you wanted?" The term "blood whore" always made me flinch. It was a term often applied to the single dhampir mothers who decided to raise their children instead of becoming guardians. These
- Page 12 and 13: down over the years. The older guar
- Page 14 and 15: Suddenly, five hours didn't seem as
- Page 16 and 17: Standing on the driveway, I glanced
- Page 18 and 19: I stared at Arthur's bloody throat.
- Page 20 and 21: TWO DIMITRI MADE ONE PHONE CALL, an
- Page 22 and 23: I hesitated. Guardians, as a genera
- Page 24 and 25: I faltered. I'd tangled briefly wit
- Page 26 and 27: "I thought you were taking your Qua
- Page 28 and 29: There was an intensely sensual note
- Page 30 and 31: THREE THE LOBBY OF MY DORM was abuz
- Page 32 and 33: who want to go. With everyone in on
- Page 34 and 35: Since he wasn't wearing a coat, I k
- Page 36 and 37: them—it was a man with blond hair
- Page 38 and 39: "You ever tried to feed those littl
- Page 40 and 41: FOUR I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. JANINE
- Page 42 and 43: incapable of having the imagination
- Page 44 and 45: "So, Guardian Hathaway," I began. "
- Page 46 and 47: "Coddle?" I asked. This woman had n
- Page 48 and 49: His eyes sparkled. "I can't believe
- Page 50 and 51: "Only to those who bring it to you
- Page 52 and 53: FIVE I HAD NO IDEA WHAT Dimitri was
- Page 54 and 55: observed before, though, Strigoi we
- Page 56 and 57: "Hard to say," I said. Tasha crooke
- Page 58 and 59: "Me too," said Lissa. "Maybe we cou
- Page 60 and 61: "Russian's weird," In Russian, the
- Page 64 and 65: women often had short-term affairs
- Page 66 and 67: make sure she doesn't have a concus
- Page 68 and 69: SEVEN I ANGRILY PUSHED THROUGH THE
- Page 70 and 71: Mia saw my hesitation, and it was l
- Page 72 and 73: "Whatever. I can tell when you're l
- Page 74 and 75: Before I could open my mouth, I fel
- Page 76 and 77: had been a long time since I'd kiss
- Page 78 and 79: EIGHT CHRISTIAN WAS KISSING HER, AN
- Page 80 and 81: "The truth, huh? No one wants to he
- Page 82 and 83: He rolled his eyes, still smiling.
- Page 84 and 85: "Look at me," he ordered. "Dimitri
- Page 86 and 87: shouting. "I swear, sometimes it's
- Page 88 and 89: NINE I DIDN'T SEE DIMITRI FOR a whi
- Page 90 and 91: Christian were chatting on in their
- Page 92 and 93: I honestly couldn't believe we were
- Page 94 and 95: "Good." She opened her mouth, and I
- Page 96 and 97: "I'm really tired," I repeated. I c
- Page 98 and 99: TEN THE SKI TRIP COULDN'T HAVE come
- Page 100 and 101: Inside, all sorts of arrangements h
- Page 102 and 103: "Ah," he said triumphantly. "She fi
- Page 104 and 105: leather dress shoes he wore indicat
- Page 106 and 107: "And you think I'm trouble," I mutt
- Page 108 and 109: get a couple of guys to tell everyo
- Page 110 and 111: ELEVEN LISSA WAS UP AND GONE before
She moved on me again, and again I just barely kept within the lines in escaping her. That<br />
quickly became the pattern. She never really gave me the chance to go on the offensive. Or<br />
maybe I just didn't have the skills to take the offensive. I spent all my time defending myself—<br />
physically, at least. Grudgingly, I had to acknowledge to myself that she was good. Really<br />
good. But I certainly wasn't going to tell her that.<br />
"So, what?" I asked. "This is your way of making up for maternal negligence?"<br />
"This is my way of making you get rid of that chip on your shoulder. You've had nothing but<br />
attitude for me since I arrived. You want to fight?" Her fist shot out and connected with my<br />
arm. "Then we'll fight. Point."<br />
"Point," I conceded, backing up to my side. "I don't want to fight. I've just been trying to talk to<br />
you."<br />
"Mouthing off to me in class isn't what I'd really call talking. Point."<br />
I grunted from the hit. When I'd first begun training with Dimitri, I'd complained that it wasn't<br />
fair for me to fight someone a foot taller than me. He'd pointed out that I'd fight plenty of<br />
Strigoi taller than me and that the old adage was true: size doesn't matter. Sometimes I thought<br />
ht was giving me false hope, but judging from my mom's performance here, I was starting to<br />
believe him.<br />
I'd never actually fought anyone smaller than me. As one of the few girls in the novice classes, I<br />
accepted that I was almost always going to be shorter and slimmer than my opponents. But my<br />
mother was smaller still and clearly had nothing but muscle packed into her petite body.<br />
"I have a unique style of communication, that's all," I said.<br />
"You have a petty teenage delusion that you've somehow been wronged for the last seventeen<br />
years." Her foot hit my thigh. "Point. When in reality, you've been treated no differently than<br />
any other dhampir. Better, actually. I could have sent you off to live with my cousins. You want<br />
to be a blood whore? Is that what you wanted?"<br />
The term "blood whore" always made me flinch. It was a term often applied to the single<br />
dhampir mothers who decided to raise their children instead of becoming guardians. These
Change language