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gesture of non-answer. Or maybe just a delay tactic. “I watch people.”
    “And you watched me?”
    “A bit.”
    Her answers were so vague they did nothing but irritate him—and make him want to know more. “Did you drop out of school?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Do you ever just answer an actual question?”
    “Occasionally.” A mischievous grin lifted the corners of her mouth, but she said no more.
    He had no more real information about her than when he’d stepped into the room, but he did know one thing. She had an old soul. It was all in her eyes. The depths. The pain.
    And they had at least one thing in common.
    A fighter’s spirit. That need to succeed, to be the best—he saw it in her. In the tightness of her jaw facing a bigger opponent. The stubborn set of her shoulders even while she was seated. Her warrior’s spirit was there, simmering below the surface.
    Whether she used her drive to take down her dragons or to simply build walls around herself and shut out the world, he didn’t know.
    “Is this the ‘stay in school and don’t do drugs’ portion of tonight’s event? Cause I’ve heard the speeches and read the pamphlets.”
    Oh. And the attitude of a fighter. She had that, too.
    He’d probably have to shovel it out of his office after he kicked her out.
    “If you think an education is so beneath you, then what do you think is important?”
    “To be the biggest, baddest, strongest chick in the ring so I can fight anybody. Everybody. And win.”
    “You don’t need any of those things.”
    Lifting an eyebrow, she stared at him with a bless-your-little-heart look.
    “I’m not saying some smart fat-ass dude who’s been gorging himself on Ho-Hos and Coke for twenty years could come in and kick ass.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Thank goodness.”
    “What I am saying is, yes, you have to be in good shape. You have to eat right and work out a hell of a lot, but those things will only get you so far.”
    “And the next step is…”
    She hissed at the last word, and he ground his teeth for a reason other than his busy schedule. “Being smart is what you need. That’s what makes a great fighter. Training, being healthy can only get you to a certain level. Intelligence and cunning are the only two things that make a good fighter a legend.”
    “But part of that still comes down to training.”
    “So you think if I trained you for a year...”
    Her eyes lit up.
    “Which I’m not doing. If I put you in a ring with a dummy and taught you how to move, could you win every match no matter who you fought?”
    “No. Hand-to-hand real fights are the only way to really learn. And,” she got louder as he opened his mouth to cut her off. “Studying your opponents—”
    “Studying. Did you catch that word leaving your mouth?”
    “Yes,” she grumbled.
    “You have to be able to anticipate your opponent’s next move, counter it and gain your advantage. Being smart is everything in this sport. Hell, any sport. Ours just has a very steep learning curve if you fail.”
    “If you’re so smart, why don’t you fight?”
    He chuckled at the question, “A long time ago I fought under the name, The Shadow of Death. Now I’m smart enough to not have to.”
    She relaxed, nodded and grinned. Then she laughed. A true laugh, and it sounded like fairies.
    His cock jerked behind his zipper at the sound of her laugh.
    Oh. Hell. No.
    “And I’m smart enough to have rules against fucking my fighters. I stay in the shadows where I can do the most damage. And it’s also why there are rules in place where fighters of the same house don’t go up against each other. Ever. Infighting does no one any good so I won’t risk it.”
    She had the audacity to look disappointed. As if she were upset that if she fought for him, which she wouldn’t, he wouldn’t fuck her, which he wouldn’t.
    He stared at her. The upper bow of her lip, her make-up free skin, the sexy feather earrings she wore, they all called to him.
    No.