army, sheâd been pestering him to take her along. How else was she supposed to get experience?
Tristan slipped a hood over her head. Although she knew the hood and mask were because she was going out into the dangerous night,
she couldnât help feel as if they served another purpose: him wanting to cover her face so he wouldnât have to look at her.
She chewed on her lip as he zipped her in. Then he strapped on her neck protector and checked the rest of her slayer uniform. It wasnât as if Tristan ever said anything to purposefully make her feel bad or ugly, itâs just that he never seemed to notice she was a girl. In contrast, she sure noticed that he was a boy. Nearly seventeen, he was practically a man.
âThat works.â He took her by the shoulders and spun her around. âNo one will guess youâre not one of the boys.â
She crossed her arms over her chest. Her lack of girlish attributes might make it easier for her to hide in among the class of boys tonight, but her fourteenth birthday was coming soon and . . . She shook her head. Even if Tristan might say yes, it would be too risky to invite him to her birthday party. How could she explain meeting him to her father? And asking her mother to concoct yet another lie was out of the question. Plus, she couldnât even tell Tristan who she really was. Taking him to meet her parents at the palace would blow her cover.
Tristan adjusted his weapons. âReady?â
âNo.â She took a step back from him.
He closed the distance sheâd created and ran his strong hands from her shoulders down to her wrists and then her hands. The gesture was so protective, she nearly dove into his chest for a hug.
âAre you frightened?â he asked, his gloved hands still over hers. âWe donât need to do this.â
She pulled away from him. âI am not frightened. But I should have weapons. What if Iâm attacked? What if you are? How will I save you?â
He swung one arm and punched her lightly in the shoulder, but hard enough that she tipped to the side. âMy brave little slayer girl.â
Although she couldnât see his expression under his mask, she felt sure he was mocking her, and she gritted her teeth. What would it take for him to take her seriouslyâas a slayer or as a girl?
âDonât worry, little Lucy.â He assured her. âI wonât let anything happen to you.â
Lucette tucked her short curls behind her ears. In the two years since sheâd chopped off her long hair, it had grown down to her chin. At least it wasnât quite so boyish anymore, but even though she was now fifteen, her body still hadnât cooperated. Well beyond late-bloomer status now, Lucette figured it was time to face the fact that a curvy figure was not in her future.
She kept her eyes on Tristan as he demonstrated a wrestling hold on a younger boy, Hans, whoâd been working with them and had been sworn to secrecy about the mysterious girl âLucyâ who trained in the gym late at night. Lucette had been training with Tristan at least five times a week, and although he didnât give out praise easily, she could tell he was proud of her progress.
She focused her attention on the demonstration sheâd soon be expected to emulate. Tristan was playing the part of a slayer, and Hans was playing the vampire. Tristan lunged for Hans, feigning a frontal attack, but at the last moment, Tristan ducked down under Hansâs arm and grabbed it.
Using one leg, he swept Hans off his feet. Once he had Hans on the ground, he twisted the boyâs arm to force him onto his chest, then pinned him by kneeling on one arm and pressing the other into his back.
âDo you understand?â Tristan asked her, as he let Hans up. The younger boy rubbed his arm.
Lucette nodded. Her heart was thumping hard and fast. Not only was she unsure she could pull off this maneuverâespecially
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