Read Online Caged (Talented Saga) by Sophie Davis - Free Book Online

he asked once I’d taken my position opposite him. When students at the School practiced, they often wore suits made of a synthetic material that had been developed in some Agency test facility. The suits thin and fit the body like a second skin. The fabric wasn’t exactly breathable, but was nearly impossible to penetrate; it dulled the sensation of a hit, so it felt more like a hard pillow than a fist or foot. The suits allowed students to practice with weapons ranging from attack batons to small knives without causing each other too much bodily harm.
    While on missions, Hunters wore a high-tech version of it called an adapti-suit. These both prevented injury by being nearly impenetrable, and camouflaged the wearer by replicating the surroundings. On my first Hunt, I’d found one of the exceptions for piercing the fabric the hard way; nothing keeps out a poisoned tip dagger.
    For practice drills like the one that Donavon wanted to run, the partner being used as a punching bag often won’t wear a full suit, but rather pads on their thighs and core. The pads serve the dual purposes of both giving the attacker somewhere to aim and protecting the wearer. I knew that I should at least put on the pads. But after Donavon finding me in such a vulnerable position just hours earlier, I felt the need to show him that I was every bit as hardcore now as I had been before my incident. So, instead of moving to pull on the pads, I met his eyes and answered, “I don’t need one.”
    Outwardly, Donavon’s eyes gave a small flicker of something that looked almost like concern. Inwardly, he was all irritation. “ Don’t be stupid, Talia ,” he mentally chastised me.
    “ We spar all the time without suits ,” I mentally shot back.
    “ You haven’t sparred in almost a year. You’re not conditioned to take hits anymore .” His mental voice sounded impatient.
    “ How’s your chest feel ?” I snapped, my eyes darting to the space where I’d kicked him. Baiting him was probably a bad idea, but I couldn’t help myself.
    He scoffed with irritation, then turned his attention to the class and began going through the motions of the first combination of kicks. He first demonstrated each one in the air, then faced me and demonstrated what each one looked like when it made contact with another person. He was clearly still annoyed with me, for ...well, honestly, probably for a lot of things.
    His first kick struck my thigh with a force so jarring, it reverberated to every bone in my body. My face remained neutral, not betraying any of the pain I felt, but inside, I screamed, and a long strain of expletives escaped my mind.
    “ Should’ve worn the suit ,” Donavon shot back. His tone was haughty, but his blue eyes were wary. A brief flash of tenderness warmed his harsh expression. I felt a small flutter in my stomach; damn, I really hated him.
    I guess he decided that I’d learned my lesson after the first kick because he let up on me for the rest of the demonstration. While the students practiced, I wandered through the pairs, correcting technique and trying not to limp. My thigh was throbbing. After what seemed like the entire morning, though actually only ninety minutes, Donavon finally dismissed class. If I’d been an ordinary assistant, I would’ve stayed to help put away the practice mats and pads. But I wasn’t. Both my leg and my pride were stinging, so instead, I just left along with the students.

 
    Chapter Six
     
    Students at the McDonough School have six classes a day, alternating their days between physical and intellectual lessons. The students that I had in class this morning would continue on to small weapons training and defensive combat techniques before lunch, then offensive combat techniques class, large weapons, and finally Talent training after lunch.
    Unlike the students, my second period was not a physical one. Instead, I was assigned to assist Annalise Cleary in her Prevalent Languages of the World class.