Thirty one

Following Mason, I leap from the roof and land in the thick snow with a muffled thump, stirring a cloud of snow around me which eventually settles on me, gleaming in the moonlight. Our gaze catches, while I'm still slumped in the mound of snow at the foot of the building, and once again I forget about the cold, or the fact that I haven't moved an inch. Whenever we are together everything else ceases to exist. The thing about Mason is that he has the ability to make me feel everything, all at once. It is overwhelming, and disconcerting, creating a certain dissonance within me.

With a sharp turn of his heels, he breaks eye contact and begins to stride to the side of the building with purposeful steps, leaving me like a deer in the headlights.

Very ungraciously, I manage to pull myself up and shake some of the snow stuck to my clothes and hair, but I know I don't have a lot of time before he comes back and drags me with him, and probably scolds me for not keeping up.

I feel slightly better after I've had some time to rest. Releasing high amounts of energy has proven to be physically taxing.

When I reach the entrance to Zareen, I find that he isn't waiting for me. Somehow I'm not surprised, but last time we were here I made sure to memorise the path we took, so I followed the corridor, taking each turn carefully, because if I get lost I know for sure that Mason will not come to fetch me.

When I reach the hatch in the floor, I descend the short flight of stairs with unguried steps, and find myself back in the room, with the four pillars and the round slab of stone in the middle. He is already waiting, standing in the middle in all his all-mighty, smug, obnoxious self glory. I need to make a mental note of those words because I have a feeling I'll be needing them tonight at one point or another.

He has already shed his woollen coat, and suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves have been rolled up on his arms, showing each defined muscle, and the veins that decorate them. Mason is not your typical muscular man, his are lean and well-defined. After our last session, I've discovered that he is incredibly agile and skilled with a weapon. If I fail to follow his instructions, I'm sure he will challenge me to another fight.

I can't say I'm looking forward to having him hand my ass to me, again. But, I could use the practice.

When I step onto the slab of stone, he offers me both hands and I take them in spite of knowing that his touch will set every nerve ending in my body on fire.

Fight it, Lily.

He has made his thoughts very clear as to where he stands, and I find that we have circled back to where we began. It is a sad thought. It wasn't the best time of my life. Those were days filled with a lot of angst and unanswered questions. I suppose we have tied that end pretty neatly after our last conversation.

" Begin," He says blandly, and I repress the urge to make a face. As if it were that easy. It's not, but I bite my tongue, and look down instead of looking into his eyes. I find a fixed point on his perfectly polished shoes and stare at the little shinny dot.

Nothing happens, I can't feel anything.

" Vidris asmerat," He calls, and the room lights up with muted light, that is not as bright as it used to be. If this room was meant to magnify the amount I'd be able to absorb, it is not doing the trick. Or perhaps it is me that it's faulty?

Nothing new there.

" Something is not right," He hums pensively," You should be able to channel way more than that. This is not enough," And he is right. It is so little that I'm beginning to feel slightly concerned but also at the same time relieved. If this is gone then Micah wouldn't hunt me anymore and I can go back to the life I had before everything went to shit.

" We will try one more time. If it doesn't work, your fighting technique could use some improvement, " I feel slightly offended by that remark, but I also know that he is not completely off the mark.

" My technique is fine. I've never used a weapon in a fight. I find it cumbersome," He smirks at my pouty tone, and tilts his head to the side.

" In a fight, you need all the advantages that you can get. Anything can be a weapon in the right hands, " Whatever snarky remark I have prepared, dies on my tongue when he continues.

" Weapons are merely an extension of yourself. As long as you regard it as a foreign object then you will always have trouble wielding one. Now please focus on the task at hand. You are distracted," He finishes sternly and grips my hands a little tighter.

" Try again. This time put some effort into it," I look at him in disbelief. What did he think I was doing so far?

" No more talking," He adds with a frown.

" So far you are the one that has been doing all the talking," I glare at him and close my eyes refusing to even look at him anymore.

" What I'm doing, is not pointless talking. I'm offering you guidance," He says, but I can't see the look on his face I know he wearing a smug expression.

" It is not very good guidance if you ask me. We have made zero progress," I mumble under my breath, and in response, he grips my hands even tighter to the point of pain.

" You're hurting me," I say with a huff.

" If you want gentle. I'm not the man for you. Ashley is the obvious choice," He says in a tight voice.