I laughed uncontrollably at the fierce determination in his gaze, then covered my mouth with my hand when he looked at me indignantly.
“What is it?” he asked, straightening.
“Nothing,” I said between giggles. “You just look . . . a little ridiculous.”
Oliver scowled and then cocked his head at me, his eyes contemplative. Before I could ask what he was thinking, he pounced.
I yelped as his mass overwhelmed me, toppling me to the ground with a loud thump that elicited several barks from below. I wrestled under his weight, but his heavy chest pressed down on my arms, pinning me. In an instant, the blade of the athame was at my throat.
I froze, breathing heavily and staring at the weapon so close to my skin. My heart hammered loudly against my chest. I wiggled my shoulders, but his hold on me was unyielding.
I looked at him, brows creasing with impatience, and found that look on his face. The look I’d hoped to avoid since our incident outside Javier’s home. Fire burned in his eyes as his heavy breaths pushed his chest against mine.
Flames burst in my face, but I couldn’t look away from him. His gaze held me, freezing me just like my fear did.
His eyes fell to my lips. Why does he do that? Lilith help me.
“All right,” I panted, my throat dry. “You’ve made your point. Let me up.”
Oliver rolled off me, and the pressure against my chest released. I took a moment to lie undisturbed on the floor as I caught my breath, and the heat in my face subsided. Then I climbed to my feet.
“Let’s try it again,” I said.
Oliver nodded, jaw clenched, and took another fighting stance. He rushed me, and I ducked. His arm collided with my collarbone, knocking me to the ground again. I cried out in pain as agony sliced through the back of my head from the impact. Oliver knelt on the floor next to me, his forearm holding my chest down and his other hand against my neck with the athame.
“Again,” I growled.
We stood, and Oliver advanced. Instead of ducking, I launched myself into his attack, placing my hands on his shoulders and wrapping my legs around his middle like a backward piggyback ride. His eyes grew round as saucers. His face beet red, he was too startled to notice me wriggling the athame from his grip.
I dropped down and raised the athame like a trophy, a triumphant smile on my face.
Oliver laughed, but the sound was shaky in his throat. He ran a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t fair.”
“No? I won, didn’t I?”
He pointed an accusing finger at me. “Yes, but if you jump on a demon like—like that, they won’t react like I did.”
I frowned. “React like what, exactly?”
“Like—you—well, you—” Oliver sputtered. He dropped his hand against his leg in frustration. “If you jump on a vampire like that, you grant him full access to your throat. Did you know over half of the demon population feasts on humans in some way? Doing what you did just makes it easier for them.”
“Then it will surprise them,” I said with raised eyebrows. “You weren’t expecting it. So they won’t, either.”
Oliver stepped toward me. “But the demons don’t know you. I do.”
“Why does that matter?”
Oliver drew even closer. He lifted a hand as if to touch my face. My breath caught in my throat. “It doesn’t,” he said, dropping his hand and stepping away from me. “You’re right. The element of surprise is a handy tool, but you can only use it once. Try again.”
After a dozen other attempts in which I tried different tactics, the only one that proved successful was when I cheated and Pushed Oliver backward.
“But how is that cheating?” I argued in between labored breaths, exhausted and frustrated. “In a fight with a demon, I will have my powers!”
“Yes, but you rely too much on them,” Oliver said, pointing the athame at me accusingly. “It takes more than just your powers to defeat someone—it’s how you use them that’s the key. Taking on a First Tier demon is one thing, but what about a Second Tier? What if you face El Diablo again?”
I shuddered as lingering pain flickered along the puncture wounds on my neck. I slapped my palms against my thighs in resignation. “Then what do you suggest? What’s the best way to beat you?”
Oliver raised an eyebrow. He took several steps toward me and stretched his arm in front of me, along my neck. “A sharp jab at the throat.” He dropped his arm and raised his knee until it rose just between my legs.
I jerked backward in surprise, eyes wide and cheeks burning. “Excuse you,” I muttered.
Oliver fixed a flat stare at me. “Most demons are male and a bit more sensitive in that area. Raise your knee up as hard as you can and it will buy you some time.” He wiggled the athame suggestively. “If you have this, gouge out an eyeball.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew.”
“If your life is on the line, I don’t think you’ll care how disgusting the prospect is. Eyes, throat, and groin are the areas to hit.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
Oliver cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized me. “You have another advantage.”
“Oh?”
“Your flexibility. If you move in a way normal humans can’t—like stretching your leg up high like that, or bending over, or whatever it is you dancers do—”
I snorted and covered my mouth.
“—then the demons will be caught off guard. They expect you to be slow and clumsy. Even trained Hunters can’t move like you do.”
A blush warmed my face and I dropped my gaze, rubbing my arms. “Thanks,” I muttered. My eyes drifted to the window. “How much time do we have?”
Oliver peered past the curtain. “It’s almost sunset.”
I stepped toward the staircase and listened carefully. A low growl resonated, as if the wolves could sense my curiosity. “Stubborn idiots,” I said.
Oliver sank to
