"Okay," I agreed.

"And when we know what works best for you, we'll focus on those," he said. "So, let me explain all of this to you."

He started out easy, going over the purpose and restrictions of every weapon. For each kind, he explained its strengths and weaknesses. Then he talked about the variations that would make a weapon more suited to a person or harder for them to use.

Information was the one thing I excelled at. Everything he said, I soaked up, trying to memorize all of it. And when that part was done, he started me off with a very small bow. The normal kind. Not with arrows, though.

I had to learn how to hold it, how to draw back the string, and how to aim. He took time to correct my stance. Repeatedly, he adjusted my arms, reminding me the string could strike my skin and leave impressive bruises.

And when I got it right, he pointed to the longer arrows on the table. After showing me how to "nock" one onto the string, I was then allowed to fire at the hanging cloth bullseyes. Then, I had to do it again. Over and over and over, he made me fire the bow, until I could put the arrow through the cloth.

Somehow, I learned to shoot well enough to hit the fabric, but not well enough to hit any of the rings he'd marked in the center. The arrow just wouldn't go quite where I wanted! Zasen seemed pleased, though. When he wrapped his arms around me to adjust my aim, I felt myself tense up, but pushed through it.

Touching was okay. Kanik had said so this morning. It didn't need to be improper. Still, it felt weird. It made my body do strange things, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. I wasn't sure if I even liked the sensations.

All my life, having a man this close had been terrifying, but with Zasen or Kanik, it made my mind bounce around instead.

But I said nothing.

I could still remember how Kanik had explained his pain when I'd jerked back. He'd said he was hurt, even though he wasn't wounded. He meant his feelings, so I shouldn't do that again. I didn't want my fears to cause pain for my friends. Especially not if Zasen was just trying to teach me how to use a weapon. This was something I would definitely need to know if I wanted to stop the Moles.

Yet I was distracted. It wasn't only his breath on my neck, but the heat of his entire body. I could feel him from the base of my skull all the way down to my ankles. He was so close, but nothing about this felt like he was going to hurt me.

It felt nice in a way that made my pulse pound much too quickly.

It didn't matter that he didn't look like most men. I wanted to press back into him. I longed to turn and see his face, wondering what expression was there. My lips wanted to curl into a smile, and the urge to giggle kept happening for no reason. I pushed it down every time, yet for the first time in my life, I finally understood those foolish romance books I'd read in the compound.

But those were fantasy. It wasn't how people really were, and Gideon had proven that. Pushing those stupid desires away, I tried my hardest to aim better and concentrate on the target. Zasen was helping me learn a real skill, something that mattered, and I didn't want him to think I wasn't taking it seriously.

"Tighten through here," he said, dragging his nails down my belly.

I sucked in a breath, partly in shock, and looked back quickly. That had been almost intimate!

"Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay." Because I was going to get through this.

Yet his eyes softened even as they dropped to my mouth. "Ayla, what's your favorite color?"

I lowered the bow. "What?"

"The one you like most. What is it?"

"I don't know. I've never really thought about it. In the compound, everything was mostly grey. I didn't realize it because I didn't know anything else, but up here?"

He smiled, which made his eyes light up. "A whole new world. You can change your mind, but right now, which one do you like the most?"

I turned back to the target. For a moment, I thought about purple, but a brighter color popped into my mind. He'd said right now. He'd made it clear this didn't have to be my favorite forever.

"Orange."

That made him pause. "Orange? Like a sunset?"

I nodded, aiming down the arrow and pulling my abdominal muscles tight. "Dark, almost reddish."

"Not like Rymar's skin?"

"Like your eyes." I exhaled and released, watching the arrow bury itself just beside the center, but not quite in it. "They were the first bright color I ever saw."

He moved behind me and pressed my arm down, lowering the bow. "I thought you'd believe I was a demon. Black with eyes the color of the fires of Hell, or something. I would've thought orange would be a scary color."

I just shook my head. "You're green, almost blue."

He stepped around me to look me in the face. "Barely."

"And iridescent." I smiled as I reached up to trace the specks of light across his arm. "Like rainbows."

"You've been looking at me a lot?"

I shrugged, worried that might be an accusation. I had been. I'd looked at all of them, and my thoughts weren't always mere observations. Unfortunately, his tone of voice gave me no clue as to whether I'd crossed some line I shouldn't have.

So I simply replied, "You are the Wyvern."

When I turned back to the target, he stopped me, pulling the bow from my hands. "Take a break or your arms will learn bad habits from being too tired." He set it aside and stepped closer, his eyes never leaving my face. "Half the people in town think my skin is black and nearly white, but you know it's green?"

"I saw that on the first day."

His eyes scanned my face. "Why?"

"Because I'd never seen a Dragon before? Because they warned us about you specifically?" Hopefully, that was the right answer.

"And why aren't you scared of me, Ayla?" His voice had dropped, the sound turning to velvet. "Kanik sometimes makes you shy, and Rymar has made you flinch, but why have you never been scared of me?"

I lifted my face to meet his eyes, aware he was much taller than me. "Should I be?"

He nodded, sliding the back of his thumb across my jaw. "I think so. You can't tell a man your favorite color is the same as his strange eyes and think he won't care."

"But you said you won't hurt me. I don't want to hurt you either."

His eyes closed. "Ayla, remind me you're a Mole. Tell me a lot."

"You said I wasn't one anymore!"

With a snarl, he stepped back, grabbed a throwing knife, and flung it. A litany of snarled words fell from his lips. "I also said I'd take care of you, but you're distracting as hell, okay? Get the arrows, reset the weapons, and then you're doing it again."

I nodded quickly and hurried to the targets to retrieve the arrows and his blade. Behind the table of weapons, Zasen paced, his tail lashing. He looked angry. I quickly thought over what I'd done, and I could only think of two things that could've made him so upset. Dropping the ammunition on the table, I began to sort it back out.

"So I'm still a Mole?"