“A Quo newbie?” I expand, rubbing the stubble on my jaw.
“He knew about the heating, how hot it is here,” she shrugs, “so I’d guess he’s a repeat customer, right?” She looks down at her hands, her voice softening. “I just want to know he’s alright. I like him. He was the only person who was decent to me on the way here.”
I feel a strange, sharp prick of annoyance flare in my gut. She likeshim?
I’m the one who took a beating for her. I’m the one who’s been feeding her and keeping the wolves at bay.
I’m fucking decent.
“I’ll ask around,” I grunt, standing up and testing the edge of the scrap metal with my thumb. The sting of the cut is better than the burn in my gut. “But first, let’s go over your moves. You need to know how to handle yourself if I’m not around.”
Isee to your needs.
Not fucking “London”.
I’ve been teaching her self-defense basics—and trying really hard not to enjoy wrapping my arms around her slender, lithe body in the process.
But I’m a nineteen-year-old man, not a monk.
Every time I adjust her stance or move her hips into alignment, I can feel the heat of her radiating through the thin fabric of our jumpsuits. The agonizing temptation is something I’m starting to crave.
She plaits her hair into two messy braids, a gesture that makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t know how to handle, then stands up and faces me.
“What are the four moves of the tiger claw set?” I ask.
“Claw to the eyes,” she growls, making a swiping motion.
I can’t help laughing. Her bottom lip comes out in a pout. A fucking pout. Is she torturing me on purpose?
“And second?”
“Chop to the neck.”
“The side of the neck,” I clarify, stepping into her space until our chests are almost touching. I reach out, my fingers brushing the soft skin of her throat to show her where the carotid is. She shivers, but doesn’t pull away. “Strike here, and you shut them down. Third?”
“Grab him by the collar or whatever, pull down and knee up. Follow that up with an elbow strike between the shoulder blades.”
“Good, let’s go through them.”
We spar, and she gets frustrated when she can’t pull my neck down. “So what the fuck am I going to do against someone even taller than you?”
“Get in close.”
With iron-fucking-will I do not use the instruction to grab her waist and haul her flush against me. “The danger zone,” I rasp, “is when I can reach out and hit you, but you can’t reach to hit me back. Get in real close, then it’s awkward for the bigger guy to fight.”
“And then?”
“And then you ruin him,” I mutter, finally forcing myself to look away. “Punch him in the balls if you have to.”
Her eyes light up with a flash of mischief. “Ooh, can we practice that?”
“No we cannot.”
“Not even if I tell you it’s my birthday today?”
I freeze. “It is?”
“If it’s December 24th, then I just turned seventeen. So come on, Bevan, let me try a smash to your nuts.” She blushes, and I’m willing to bet that’s the first time she’s ever used that word.
