“Good. Now, when you land your hit, it needs to be these two knuckles that make contact. Otherwise, you’ll break your hand.”
His warm finger gently brushed over the first two knuckles while his other hand wrapped around my wrist. The scent of something crisp, like fresh snow, clouded my senses as he moved behind me, pressing his chest to my back and lining up his arm with mine.
“Twist from the hips,” he instructed. His lips grazed my ear, and I couldn’t hold back my shiver. “That’s where all your power will come from.” Slowly, he brought my fist to the bag and pressed until the correct knuckles were making contact. “Like that.”
Over and over he showed me; his fingers around my wrist and on my opposite hip. Each time we punched, his waist turned with mine. There was something intimate about being this close with no sexual intention, despite how I might be reacting. I easily molded into him until I could throw the punch on my own and it was his body following mine.
Caged in his arms, I didn’t feel angry. There were no screaming voices in my head, no exhaustion pulling at my limbs. No fire in my heart telling me I wasn’t worth it. I felt safe. Protected.Capable.
Until he stepped away, and all the negative feelings I’d been trying to bury suddenly fought for a spot at the surface. There was a question in my eyes as he moved to stand beside me, but I wasn’t brave enough to voice it. I lifted a brow instead, ever the girl with attitude.
“Let loose,” he said, gesturing toward the bag. “Unleash yourself.”
I didn’t realize it was the permission I was waiting for. All my anger was wrapped in guilt and shame. It was the djinn who started me on the path that led to what I was now, butIwas the one who was caught. I hadn’t fought hard enough. Hadn’t fought smart enough. I didn’t escape. I was weak and helpless and so out of my league that I couldn’t stop the water from closing in over my head.
And when She came for me? I wasn’t brave, and I wasn’t strong. I begged. I pleaded and cried and promised whatever She wanted in return for saving me. I gave it all away, every part of me, just to live. Even my soul.
Never again.
Pulling back, I let my fists fly. First one and then the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. I pounded the fuck out of that bag and imagined every face from my nightmares in the dead center. My back grew slick with sweat, and my biceps screamed. My thighs trembled, and even my abs screamed in protest.
Still, I didn’t stop. I wasn’t even sure I could at this point. The rage I’d spent the whole day keeping in check was wide awake and very interested in all the big thoughts swirling around my brain. My knuckles burned and stung.
I didn’t care.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
Never.Ever. Again.
CHAPTER 8
Ezra
There she was. The fire burned bright in my bond, but lately it had been like an out-of-control wildfire that scorched whoever came too close. I wanted to give her a way to rein it in, if not for herself then for the safety of those around her. I meant what I said when I offered to teach her how to defend herself, but sometimes there was no replacement for going to town on a bag when you needed some anger management.
Her long red hair was tied up in its usual bun, with small strays curling around her neck and ears. Sweat glistened on her skin, its own kind of glow, as she went to work exactly as I asked. She let go and unleashed. Fucking beautiful. No experience, and already her technique was near perfect. There were a few tweaks I needed to make in her form before they became bad habits, but really, I was nitpicking.
Rani was critical in taking direction. She listened intently and picked things up quickly. I’d make a warrior out of her yet. But first, we needed to channel that temper. Her strikes slowed as she neared the end of her stamina. Red flashed when shewound up for her next strike, and I cursed, lunging forward to stop her.
“Fuck, babe,” I whispered, getting my first good look at the damage.
The black of the bag hid the evidence for too long, but it was no excuse. I should have wrapped her damn hands. Her chest rose and fell in gasps as I inspected her knuckles. Blood ran in little rivulets between her fingers and down the back of her hand.
“I didn’t think you’d hit hard enough,” I apologized again, ready to kick my own ass. “I should have wrapped them.”
Half disgusted with myself and half impressed by her strength, I used the bottom of my shirt to dab at the wounds. These weren’t superficial. Not just red marks and raw scrapes, she actually broke through the first few layers andsplitthe skin. A true fighter. Pride bloomed in my chest.
I was as gentle as I could be. The bond hummed at how close we were. It had been a few days since we maintained contact for this long, and I once again mentally beat the shit out of myself for enjoying it despite her pain. Did she feel it too, or was she too focused on the sting in her hands?
A proper cleaning was necessary to get a better look at the damage, but I already knew all I needed to. Rani had a lot of anger to work through, so much that she herself might not even realize it. When I thought about what she had to go through, what she was still going through, to entice that much rage…
She hissed when the rough fabric of my shirt rubbed her knuckle wrong and yanked her hand from my hold. I made a soft sound and reached again, but she held her hand close to her chest.
“I don’t need your pity,” she snarled, and I stilled.
Taking a good, long look, I saw too much emotion. It was spilling out of her in uncontrolled waves. With a little strumalong our burgeoning bond, I revealed even more than her fury.Shame.Guilt. They were trapped inside her with no way out. Another brief glance at her hands, and I knew I couldn't let her return to the bag. Not even with wraps. Not until they healed.
But maybe I could goad those emotions to the surface and set them free.
