Chapter 11

"That's enough." My concentration broke as the sensei of the dojo stepped up beside me. Sweat ran down my face, stinging my eyes and plastering the loose strands of my black hair to my forehead. Dragging in quick breaths of air flavored with human sweat, I followed his gaze.

After I'd been taken out of the sparring rotation due to my wandering mind, I'd come over to the punching bags, intent on purging my frustrations on something safe.

"Well," he said, touching one of the many tears and splits that riddled the bag. "I hope it helped." I stuttered an apology and an offer to replace it but he waved it off. "We have plenty in storage. Talon's none too easy on the equipment, either." I flinched, but he didn't notice, having returned to the rest of the class.

A wee had already passed since Talon had been taken, a week of sitting around and worrying while Marcus and others searched for him. A week of anxiety, fear and rage, the painful absence in my mind underscoring every moment.

As a safety precaution, I was staying with Marcus, with him escorting me everywhere I went. Just in case, he said. It felt more like he was making sure I didn't try going after Anasia myself. And he was right to worry.

There was still ten minutes left of class, but I left the floor anyway and headed for the shower. I was no fit company and I suddenly felt drained. It was a mental exhaustion as opposed to being worn out from my martial arts class, the weight of loss and frustration bogging me down. I'd failed to protect my mate. Regardless of who was more powerful and the circumstances, I'd failed to stop another from taking and hurting what was mine. And he was hurting; I could feel it sometimes when I brushed up against the blocked link, though I knew he tried to keep it buried within himself.

Damn martyr.

Marcus was waiting just inside the dojo when I came out of the bathroom, his usual kind expression on his face as he spoke with Sensei. It was an interesting picture. Marcus was a little over six-feet of well-groomed, older gentleman, his skin lightly golden where you could see it, his tailored butler's suit helping to hide his well-muscled build. Kind blue eyes and short, dark brown hair just going to grey, he could have been somebody's grandfather.

Sensei was a bare inch taller than me, about five-foot-six, his corded muscles flexing as he shifted his weight, his swinging arms pale and dusted with the freckles that went hand-in-hand with his flaming red hair that was also graying.

To the inexperienced, or human, eye, Sensei looked to be the most dangerous of the two, despite the size difference. Which was the point. Marcus had worked very hard to cultivate his kind older man façade, letting Talon stand in the forefront as the more powerful of the two. It was an arrangement that had worked to keep Marcus out of the spotlight, for whatever reason, and let them have almost normal lives among the other races. I much preferred the old man I've known for years than the young-looking, scary visage he's told me about.

I waited while they finished talking about some political crap, not really in any hurry to return to house arrest. Without Talon there, the house held little appeal. I slept in his bed sometimes, though never for the entire night, often changing to my panther form and using her animal nature to block my mind from the excessive worried I harbored. I caught the tail end of their conversation before Sensei stepped away, a frown creasing my forehead. Why would Marcus need to come back by here and take care of the mound of paperwork? Marcus didn't attend this dojo, just Talon and there wasn't any additional papers or forms to fill out to renew membership, so what-

Sensei's words about how Talon wasn't gentle on the equipment, there being plenty of bags in storage and dismissing my replacement offer. It all pointed to one thing.

I am an idiot.

Waiting until we'd started back home, I asked, "So, were either of you ever going to tell me he owned the dojo?" I couldn't believe I'd been so blind.

"Does it really make a difference?" the old Demon countered.

"Yes!" I snapped.

"Why? You still have to pay your dues, you still have to earn your rank and Sensei still instructs you. The only difference is that it is backed by a private organization that allows the dojo to acquire what it needs."

I knew he was right. It didn't really make any difference. It just burned me that I hadn't seen it earlier.

"What does he do, Marcus?" The one question I couldn't bring myself to ask Talon I finally found myself needing to know. The bleak November landscape passed by, the night hiding little from my eyes, and I waited for an answer. "I know he doesn't run overseas companies; he's anything but a corporate suit."

"You're right and wrong," his voice held just a hint of humor. "He does have businesses in other countries, as do I, and both of us do travel to these businesses to check up on them."

"What does Talon do, Marcus?" I asked again, my soft tone doing nothing to hide my growing temper.

"Have you never asked him?" I growled. "Why not? He would have told you had you asked." My skepticism made him snort. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe I have to ask a very specific question to get most of the entire answer out of either of you." My black mood was returning, not that it had really left me, sharpening my tongue.