5

~Kiva

Bracing my hands on my knees, I stare at the floor, trying not to throw up.

"I've had enough,” I gasp out.

I can feel sweat trailing down my forehead as I look up at Ark, who stares down at me with his arms folded over his chest.

That menancing look…It makes training under his scrutiny far more difficult, knowing he’s judging my every move.

"You've barely done anything."

I collapse onto my stomach, pressing my cheek against the cold floor.

I believe more than ever that he’s a killer. As I lay here, I’m barely clinging onto life, utterly ruined by him and his thorough training.

If it could even be called that.

"I've ran laps, I've lifted far too many weights, and I put up with you for over an hour. I'm done," I grumble.

I tried to push back against his instructions to begin with, but he made it very clear that he wasn't going to allow that. I regret it now, getting the feeling most of this training is his retaliation to my attitude.

"That was merely a warm up. Now, to the training."

With widened eyes, I looking up at him. "I won't be able to walk tomorrow!"

As he turns away, I swear I see the beginnings of a smile. "I'm counting on it."

Rolling my eyes, I push myself up into sitting position, hugging my knees. My arms are so weak I'm unsure I'll ever be able to pick something up again.

"And how will I protect myself then?" I ask hopelessly.

He circles back around, holding his hand out to me. "You'll have me."

"I don't want you."

Scrambling to my feet, I stumble a bit, dodging away from Ark's gasp as he reaches out to steady me.

He sighs through his nose. "The faster you are at learning how to protect yourself, the sooner I'm out of your life."

"And suddenly I have all the energy in the world," I exclaim, grinning sardonically at him.

He shakes his head, turning to open one of the weapon's cases attached to the wall. I like that he hates me, that even looking at me is hard for him. It makes getting under his skin so much easier.

"Take this." He holds something out to me.

"What is it?"

He twists it around so I can see the blade. "What does it look like?"

I swallow, unnerved. "A knife."

"Dagger," he corrects.

I'm not exactly well-versed in weaponry, considering my father gets anxious when I pick up a serrated kitchen knife.

Ark, on the other hand, handles the dagger adeptly, twisting it around in his hand, admiring the sharp blade.

I hold out my palm, feeling the weight of it as he rests it there. "Whatever. Can I stab you with it?"

"Go ahead." He spreads his arms wide, inviting my attack.

Maybe he thinks I won’t do it, that I’m not fantasying about how I could kill him.

So, without hesitating, I charge at him, dagger braced in front of me. I don’t even know if I’m capable of murder, and yet something about the smug expression on Ark’s face makes it seem so easy.

As soon as I make it close enough, he strikes my arm, sending the dagger from my hand. It hits the ground with an undignified smack, sliding away from me.

"Ow. That hurt, bastard." I cradle my wrist, glaring at him.

He stoops down, picking it up. "A good start would be learning how to hold it."

I allow him to approach, grabbing my gloved hands with his.

He presses the hilt of the dagger in my palm, manually wrapping my fingers exactly where he wants them. My cheeks flush, something feel oddly intimate about him standing so close, moving my fingers around.

Not to mention the shape of the object I’m holding…

"Lose this, especially to your enemy, you're dead,” he murmurs lowly.

The moment he lets me go, I turn to stab him in the chest. Part of me knows he’s going to deflect it, which is why I put so much intention behind it, however like I suspected, he grabs me and pulls me around until my back is pressed against his chest.

I go eerily still.

The hard lines of his torso are pressed against my back, his strong arms keeping me pinned in place.

His breath brushes against my ear. "Did you touch yourself this morning?"

I struggle in his grip, but it’s no use. "None of your business. Let me go."

"Did you?" he presses.

I grit my teeth painfully tight. How can one person be so infuriating? I can't tell if he's luring me into a trap or whether he is just blatantly interested in punishing me.

"I thought I made it clear I was going to defy you," I respond lowly. I'm not ashamed of it, and I'm definitely not going to feel bad for going against his ridiculous demands.

He suddenly lets me go, causing me to stumble forward.

He waves the dagger around in front of him that I hadn't even realised he has got his hands on. "That stops now."

"I can't see Louis anymore, so how am I meant to relieve myself?" I question. I have needs, which he may not understand, but that is not on me to deal with.

"You don't need to. Maybe all that pent up frustration will aid your training," he exclaims.

I gape at him. Is he insane?

"You're punishing me. It has nothing to do with the training, does it?" It's like part of the fun for him is having me hate him.

His expression sobers, turning cold. "It has everything to do with your ability to adhere to commands. I take something away that is habitual, that you enjoy, to see how you react, how resilient you are to change."

I go quiet.

Habitual? I do it often, but I wouldn't say it's integral to my everyday...most of my problem with not doing it is because of who told me I couldn't.

"I'm fine with change," I mumble.

"Prove it to me. A month without touching yourself, and you will be rewarded greatly." He smiles tightly, as if to appease me, before turning away, putting the dagger back in the weapon's case, clearly deciding I've learnt my lesson.

"How so?"

"I may be out of your life by then."

I grin, rubbing my hands together despite my weak arms. "That does sound wonderful. Although how will you know I'm obeying you?"

Immediately I regret asking as the words come from my mouth. A sort of glazed look passes over Ark's eyes for a brief moment, but it vanishes in a second.

"It's easy to tell. I thought we established that."

"You had to ask today," I remind him.

Admittedly, I checked myself in the mirror before I came down to training. I kept my posture in cheek and splashed cool water over my face to flush out the heat.

Ark runs a hand through his dark waves, the sight captivating. "I already knew."

"How?" I ask, already mortified.

"Body language. And I heard you." He turns away again, this time striding toward the far door. I stare at his departing back before quickly chasing after him.

"You what?"

I had been a bit louder than usual this morning, but only because I assumed my other guard would be passed out against my door at that hour.

He glances over his shoulder. "I told you I was extending my hours."

At least I can hold onto some of my dignity, considering Ark didn't appear in my fantasies for a moment. Mostly because I knew if I saw those eyes in my mind, I would find myself enraged rather than turned on.

Ark goes to step from the room, but I quickly slide in front of him, blocking the door.

"Freak. I hate you." I want to pick a fight, make him as angry as he makes me.

He tilts his head as he looks over me, unimpressed. "Really? How much?"

"Enough to want a knife lodged in your skull," I say, my fists clenching at my sides. I don't care that he's so handsome up close it almost takes my breath away. I want him out of my life.

He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a smaller dagger than the one I had earlier. It's lighter in my hand as he so carelessly gives it to me, so unintimidated by whatever I could potentially do to him.

Stepping back, he holds his hands out wide. "Do it, Kiva."

Rearing back, I throw it, aiming straight for his head. I figure I may as well make it fatal if I'm going to go to all this trouble.

But predictably, he moves his head an inch, the dagger sailing straight past, lodging straight into the far wall.

He looks over his shoulder. "That was some force."

"I told you I hate you," I mutter, rolling my shoulders. Despite all the training, I'm able to put all my force into that one throw, although I wish it had hit.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. Once the mental hurdles are gone, you will excel in your training," he muses, patting my shoulder as he walks past. My nose scrunches up, convinced he is being condescending.

"And you'll leave?"

He doesn't turn, striding out into the snow. "We'll see."

Him and I both know he’s not going anywhere.