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  No doubt, his presence in my life will upset my family. If they assume we’re together, they’ll stop at nothing to put an end to the relationship, offering me anything. Maybe I can negotiate my way out of this fate they have planned for me. Change it. Rewrite history.

  Maybe I can claim my life as my own, in exchange for letting Tristan go. Easily done.

  Magali snaps her fingers in front of my face, returning my attention to her. “Whatever it is you are conjuring up in that crazy-ass mind of yours, stop.” She throws me a stern look. “It’s only going to get both of you into trouble.”

  I smile and give her an innocent look, because that is exactly what I’m hoping for.

  She frowns. “I’m tired. It’s late and I’m going to bed. We have training in the morning. Don’t be late.”

  “Am I ever?” I tease, which earns me a door slammed in my face because, yes, I am always late.

  Once I’m tucked into my own bed, I strategize. There’s nothing that would tarnish the London clan’s royal legacy more than one of their own falling for the son of Gage Gallagher. He’s considered a traitor among our race.

  “Control of my life, in exchange for walking away from him. I’ve got this,” I whisper into the darkness of my room.

  I pull the covers up under my chin and close my eyes. Tristan’s destiny is about to become one with mine.

  Serena

  THE SUITE HAS BEEN QUIET SINCE I woke up more than an hour ago. Normally, I don’t want to get out of bed or go to class.

  Today, though, is different. A game changer.

  To my surprise, Tristan had already left this morning before I got up, which forced me to rework my strategy.

  After stalking him on the Academy’s website, I discovered that not only is he teaching Protector History, but he’s also one of the hand-to-hand training instructors.

  My instructor.

  Ready to put my scheme into action, I’m showered, dressed, and currently trying to figure out the high-tech coffeemaker that Magali brought into our world.

  I’m cursing loudly when she comes out, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Mags’s hair is a mess, and her pajamas are completely askew. When she sees me, her eyes widen and she looks around the suite in shock that I’m up before her.

  “Good morning!” I chirp brightly.

  Her eyes narrow. “What’s going on?” her fingers fly.

  I wave her off and turn back to the spaceship currently holding my caffeine hostage. “How do I use this thing?”

  Slowly she walks into our kitchen and presses a few buttons. Like a miracle, it comes to life and the smell of fresh coffee fills the air. I hug her and she tenses under my unexpected affection before pulling away.

  “Did I miss training?” She asks with a nervous look.

  I shake my head. “No, I was just up early today.”

  A frown crosses her lips. “Why?” she mouths.

  I pull mugs out of the cabinet and fill them, adding a small splash of cream to each, and then hand one to my roommate. “It’s training day.” I smile brightly.

  Her eyes roam over me before she places her cup down, freeing her hands. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  I look down at the tight, white tank top and extra-short black spandex shorts I’m wearing. Normally when I train, I wear oversized T-shirts and bulky sweatpants.

  Today, I’m looking to throw Tristan off balance, make him uncomfortable. Hence the small, revealing workout outfit. I’m hoping he won’t be able to focus . . . except on me.

  “It’s comfortable,” I explain, with a gleam in my eye.

  Mags takes in my appearance one more time. She knows the outfit isn’t even close to being comfortable and I hate it.

  “I’m going to shower. Honestly, Ser, I don’t want to know.” She gives me an eye-roll before leaving. Magali knows that if she makes Tristan too off-limits, in my eyes it will just make me try that much harder with him.

  An hour later, we’re dodging the torrential rain as we make our way to one of the training centers. Once in the gym, I take in my appearance in one of the mirrored walls.

  By the grace.

  I am the complete opposite of attractive at the moment. My white tank is soaked. I sigh at myself and fold my arms over my chest. I’m not shy about my body, but having my nipples stand at attention to salute the entire training class isn’t ideal.

  Me and my stupid ideas.

  Water creeps down my limbs and I try to fight off the goosebumps from the room’s chilly air against my skin.

  My hair is drenched and dripping with beads of water, causing it to stick to my face in an unattractive way.

  To top it all off, my mascara was not waterproof. So now I have dark circles under my eyes and ridiculous black lines running down my face.

  Lovely.

  I exhale. This isn’t how I meant this to work out today. I’m a hot soaking-wet mess.

  Upon seeing me, Ethan’s eyes widen in surprise before he quickly stands and grabs two towels, coming to our rescue. He hands one to Magali, who, by the way, looks like as if she’s just stepped out of a photo shoot where they lightly spritzed her with water so she glistens and glows.

  Noticing I’m scowling at her, she holds up her oversized hooded sweatshirt and shakes it at me, as if her told you so expression wasn’t clear enough, before storming off to stretch next to Ethan’s boyfriend.

  Sometimes, I hate how perfect she is.

  Ethan turns to me and gently attempts to wipe the black marks off my face. It’s futile; this stuff is caked on.

  “Why do I get the feeling that this is your something stupid for the day, Serena?” He grins.

  My chest rises with my deep intake of breath.

  “I only get one?” He’s right, this was stupid.

  After a few wipes, Ethan gives up and hands me the towel, which I use to squeeze the excess water from my hair.

  He dips his head, trying to get me to look him in the eye.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Princess?” his voice soft.

  Ethan is the only breathing creature allowed to call me Princess—and get away with it. For whatever reason, when he says it, it doesn’t sound like a sentence, but rather a brotherly term of endearment.

  I glance up and open my mouth to spill everything to him about my brilliant-stupid plan, but the doors to the gym open and in walks the reason I look like a drowned raccoon. My friend’s eyes follow mine straight to Tristan.

  “I’m not sure I should be telling you this,” he pauses for a moment, then turns back to face me. “If I wasn’t with Lucas, and Tristan was into me, I would jump on him in front of everyone in this room, claiming him as mine.”

  An awkward tension-relieved laugh falls out of me.

  “No seriously, Ser. Instructor or not, he’s fucking hot.”

  I shake my head in amusement and lift my gaze to find Tristan standing in the middle of the gym, watching us. He’s flanked by a few other trainers, causing the other protectors in the room to fall silently into submission.

  Tristan oozes confidence and self-assuredness. It radiates off of him in waves. He commands the room because he knows whatever he’s bringing to the table is a million times better than what anyone else has to offer.

  It’s sexy. And infuriating. But mostly, sexy.

  My skin heats when his eyebrows dip over his cognac-colored gaze. Tristan’s lips part as he takes me in.

  The thin, wet material of my tank top allows my chest to be on full display for him, and all of a sudden, my plan seems really, really, really stupid. Yet, I don’t shy away.

  A flash of understanding crosses his features, and a wicked grin turns his mouth up at the corners. He’s accepted my challenge and it’s game on.

  Instantly my humiliation is replaced with dread.

  “Everyone outside,” Tristan shouts.

  I frown at his words and look around, confused.

  “What?” Lucas speaks up.

  “We’re training outside today,” Trista
n replies, bored.

  “In the rain?” Ethan interjects before looking at me.

  Yeah, this would be my fault.

  Tristan pulls his head back, his face morphing into a fierce scowl. That’s when I notice his jaw twitching under his scruff. “That a problem?”

  Silence.

  “Good. Everyone out,” he bellows.

  I watch everyone get up and make their way to the doors. Magali looks at me sympathetically before handing me her sweatshirt, which I decline.

  I don’t want her to be wet and cold because of my asinine decisions. She hesitates, but after a brief standoff becomes convinced I won’t budge.

  Angrily, she storms past me with the rest of the group.

  “Serena, you might want to put something on,” Tristan suggests in a quiet tone, when it’s just him and me left.

  “It’s just a little rain, Professor,” I flirt. “Afraid I’ll melt?”

  A warm smile crosses his lips as he leans into my personal space. His lips are a breath from mine, taking away all the air around me, so I can’t breathe.

  God, he smells divine.

  “I know how much you like the rain,” his tone is low and seductive. “I also know how much I like seeing you wet.”

  My stomach clenches at his words.

  “Then enjoy the eyeful,” I reply, throwing the makeup-stained towel down, and with all the self-assurance I can muster, I turn and sway toward the double doors.

  Into the rainfall.

  With Tristan’s voice following me.

  “Bring it, raindrop.”

  Tristan

  I’m not like any of the training instructors these protectors have ever had before. The others were royal guards, or gargoyles who successfully completed several divine assignments and now prefer to shape the next generation.

  I’m not either of those things. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only: to make sure their future queen is prepared.

  In her dossier, I read that Serena’s father was concerned that her hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking—his specialty. While Serena has been at the top of her training classes, hand-to-hand has always held her back. As I understand it, she prefers to use her powers over her natural strength. This will turn into a serious weakness if she doesn’t stop being defiant about using them.

  As the other trainers take their places behind me, I look around at the group staring at me. They have no idea what they’re in for. I respect them, though. They’re warriors waiting to fight, to be called upon. They are without fear.

  All except Serena. She’s in the back of the group, her eyes closed and her hands out, soaking in the elements, no doubt strategizing how she’ll use the weather to her advantage.

  This is what I need to put an end to. Through our bond, I sync my breathing and heartbeat with hers. Ignoring her emotions, I focus on her in order to put up a mental barrier, so she can’t source and enhance her gifts.

  Confusion falls over her face as she looks around, trying to find the reason she can’t pull in and absorb the elements. Good, she can’t sense the bond, or my interference.

  “That’s right, raindrop, I blocked you.” I mumble.

  Ethan’s head darts up and I scold myself, realizing too late that I was not quiet enough to escape his heightened hearing. I keep forgetting that I’m not among my kind, but instead among those who share the protector blood that runs through my veins. Evading Ethan’s questioning glares, I continue on my mission to scare the crap out of the sentinels in front of me.

  “How much do you all remember from previous training?” I bark into the downpour.

  “Everything,” a few students cockily reply in unison.

  “I want you to forget it all,” I order, and wait as the protectors look around, baffled. “You are here because each of you lacks the ability to properly execute hand-to-hand combat. Over the past two years, your training scores have become low enough that you’re all in jeopardy of not being assigned,” I state in a military tone. “Or graduating.”

  My eyes shift over the shocked expressions of the group, landing on Serena, who apparently couldn’t care less about my declaration. She continues to stare off into the distance through the black junk around her eyes. Oddly, it makes the blue even more alluring and deep.

  Sensing my gaze on her, her focus shifts, meeting mine. I drop my stare, immediately wishing I hadn’t.

  Her soaked spandex clings to her like a second skin, highlighting every curve of her body. It seems an abnormal fashion choice for her. I’m hoping she lost a bet and this isn’t standard training attire for her. Otherwise, I’m screwed.

  A flashback of our first encounter hits me—Serena standing in the rain, naked. I squeeze my eyes closed.

  “SERENA!” I shout, losing control of my actions.

  It’s not until I meet her wide-eyed stare that I realize I’d yelled her name out loud, unintentionally.

  “Tell me what you know about hand-to-hand fighting,” I command, quickly catching my misstep and ignoring the stares of the other beings surrounding us.

  “Um . . . it’s an offensive drill, using kicking and punching.” She replies, confused at having been singled out.

  “That’s non-lethal. Tell me about lethal,” I probe.

  “It can encompass striking weapons used for grappling, like knives, sticks, and improvised weapons. Participants engage in combatant behavior. Given a protector’s powers, it seems a bit barbaric and old school to me, wouldn’t you agree, Professor?” she questions.

  I don’t miss the taunt in her tone. “It’s the most ancient form of fighting known, so yes, it’s old school.” My eyes leave hers and focus on the rest of the protectors. “The main focus of your training will be KAPAP-based. We’ll up your physical endurance, elevate and strengthen your spiritual connection to your supernatural gifts, and develop your defensive and offensive skill sets through cold weapon usage. You will leave here bruised. Battered. Tired. And most of all, with a superior skill set. Any questions?”

  The group is quiet as they ponder my words. This isn’t going to be an easy class for them. I’m here to make sure they pass. Training them will be as effortless as breathing.

  My gaze collides with Zander’s. I’m grateful he’s agreed to help me. For years, we’ve been charged with training my mother’s army. He’s the only other being I trust with my existence, and this assignment. Zander may not be a protector, but in our world, he’s a respected general. If anyone can help me shape up these protectors in record time, it’s him.

  “The instructors before you have been personally hand-picked by me. Only two of us have gargoyle blood running through our veins. In order to properly protect a charge, you’ll need to train with other supernatural beings. Acquire a sense of how they fight. Move. Think,” I state. “You’ll train in rotation, switching every two weeks. In this first cycle, I’ll allow you to pick the instructor of your choosing. Decide wisely—you’ll be ranked based on this initial round of instruction. Those with the highest scores will remain in class. Those who fall short will be shown the door.”

  “Wait, you’ll kick us out if we rank low?” I’m asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We won’t graduate,” the same protector points out.

  “I suggest you rank high then,” I reply, uncaring.

  My statement is met with annoyed murmurs.

  “Let me introduce you to this semester’s trainers,” I continue, ignoring their displeasure. “First up is Zander. By now, I’m sure you’ve sensed he is a satyr.”

  I watch recognition fall across Serena’s expression.

  “Zander is second in command of the Woodland Nymph Royal Guard, appointed by Her Majesty, the Queen. He also happens to be royalty, a nymph prince,” I announce.

  Most supernatural beings tend to look down upon nymphs as purely sexual creatures, using them for their own physical needs and then discarding them when they’re done. Regardless of his nymph blood, Zander is a prince in the supernatural
world. They’re required to respect him.

  Zander tips his chin to the class before his eyes land on Serena. “Nice to see you again, champ,” he winks.

  She offers a shy smirk back.

  I motion toward the two vampires beside me. “This is Atieno, prince of the vampire world and Lord Valentin’s son. Also, his newly changed mate, Princess Vega.” I take another step down the line. “This beautiful lady is Sorceress Eleyna.” I smile at her and continue. “Most of you know Gabriel, since he was your instructor last year for weapons training.” The gargoyle nods to the group.

  Suddenly, the students’ eyes widen as they notice the final training instructor in line that I approach.

  I turn to face the group. “Demon training is essential when you protect charges against the dark army. We’re grateful to have Charles, head of the Cambion Society, to assist us with your instruction this semester.”

  The energy buzzing around the class drops and feels different; it’s full of shadows and quiet.

  They’re nervous.

  “These are your instructors. Regardless of their background, you will show them respect. Take what they have to offer as a gift. Learn. Train. Become better,” I bark. “Step forward in front of the trainer you’d like to work with this cycle,” I encourage and step aside, waiting.

  Whom a protector picks, of their own accord, will show the instructors what type of warrior they will be.

  My gaze slides to Charles. Most of the protectors won’t pick the cambion, mainly because he’s half demon and half human. It’s unfortunate, because those who have the balls to work with him will get the most out of their training.

  Within seconds, half of the females, and a handful of the males in the class gravitate to my good-looking best friend, including Magali. I smirk. They can’t help the pull. He is a male nymph after all, designed to allure and seduce.

  It’s in his blood.

  I know Zander will take good care of Serena’s best friend and that’s important to me, so I interject and assign Magali and a male student to him. The smile on Zander’s face as he takes Magali’s hand lets me know he’s pleased.

  Given his current situation, I throw him a warning look that says she’s a student only. Displeased at the reminder, he grunts and then nods in agreement.