pg 91 - Hurt like hellMature

"It's hard to do it for a long period of time. The more you practice, the better you get and the more you improve. It takes an incredible amount of strain if you do too much at once, but you slowly adjust and extend your limits inch by inch"

One of the heavy set doors suddenly swing open, revealing a white-clad Clarisse in what I presume to be her fencing clothes with her platinum blonde hair neatly done back in a French plait. There are the odd strands which seem to have broken loose from the plaits hold, the bits hanging around her face in a messy way. She looks up, glancing between us both seated on the same couch before an odd thought seems to cross her mind. It comes and goes before I get the chance to distinguish what's going on up in her head.

Aidan nimbly extracts himself from the plethora of comfy cushions supporting his back, meeting Clarisse midway across the room with muffled footsteps trodden on the carpet blanketing the floor. He takes one of her bags from her, slinging it across his own shoulder while I make my way over to them both.

"How did the fencing match go?" He queries, holding the door open for us both and waiting for Clarisse and I to exit before following behind us.

She turns her head sharply in his direction, causing her plait to swing back over her shoulder with enough force to swat a fly. "Fantastically. I whooped butt....nothing out of the usual." She rolls her eyes, using a tone of voice which makes me see a competitive streak in her.

He chuckles, the rumbling sound surprising me with the tingling sensations it sends up my spine like little spiders with icy tendrils instead of legs.

"Nothing out of the ordinary then" He remarks, handing her bag back to her before she plods up the stairs. I hear a distant door open and shut somewhere in the house, the sound of keys chiming together reaching my ears.

"Aidan? I'm home. Be ready in ten minutes with Clarisse and Elena in the arena. Please bring down the first aid kit on your way there" James' voice echoes throughout the cavernous house, the jangling key sound coming to an end when he walks past us and into the kitchen where he places the keys on the table.

Aidan turns to me, his deep inhalation causing his chest to rise and fall while the turquoise of his eyes shifts to a deep green with flecks of gold glistening inside near his pupils.

"Hope you're ready for this. You're going to hurt like hell in the morning."



The End

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