His eyes search my face for a long moment.
Finally he exhales slowly, then he nods once.
"Fine."
I blink surprised.
"…Fine?"
"You train."
I stare at him.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
I narrow my eyes, waiting for the catch, there is always a catch with him. Every conversation with Zane is like standin in the middle of a chess board where he's already three moves ahead.
"But," he continues calmly, "only if I'm the one training you. I don't want anothr man's hands on you."
AHA!! There it is.
"What?"
"I'll train you."
"No. Hell no"
His eyebrow lifts slightly.
"No?" he repeats.
"I don't want you training me."
Zane folds his arms across his chest. The movement pulls the fabric of his dark long-sleeve shirt tight across his shoulders, his posture is relaxed, bur there's something immovable about him now.
"That's the condition."
I let out a short laugh that holds absolutely no humor.
