“Never get lost in thoughts. Always keep your eyes up and on the enemy. Trust no one but yourself. Not even those you trust might be there for you.”
I look at him, unable to find the words. “What do you mean?”
He does the same move of twisting my arm backward until pain laces around my bones, and I’m under his grip again, arm pressed against my throat. “Dead,” he mutters.
I huff. “You’re insufferable.”
“The element of surprise is vital. They won’t expect you to fight back.”
“I can trust you, though,” I state, meeting his gaze.
In one swift move, he hooks his leg under mine, making me fall straight into his awaiting arms.
“Dead again. You’re so easily swayed. Focus, Naya.”
This time, when he attempts to twist my arm behind me, I’m prepared for it, driving my elbow into his ribs. It forces him to take a step back, though not from my strength alone.
“Better. You’re not dead yet, but we need to focus on your strength. You’re weak, baby.”
“Fuck you.”
His hand meets my throat, squeezing lightly, which has my insides instantly squirming. He prevents the flood of oxygen from entering my lungs, and I fight to breathe, clawing at his strong hand. The intensity and danger in his eyes makes my core heat, something primal igniting inside me.
“Dead again.” He squeezes harder, his mouth brushing against my ear, which makes me shudder. “I see the panic in your eyes, little doll. Don’t crumble apart.” He nibbles my earlobe, making heat rise to my cheeks before he lets me go.
I drag in a deep breath that has my lungs fighting for survival as I stagger back, away from the predator before me.
“If someone grabs you from behind, step on their foot as hard as you can. If you elbow their ribs, it’ll cause double the pain that will leave them shocked for just a fracture of a second. Use that second wisely and twist out of their grip.”
He doesn’t let me catch my breath as he quickly turns mearound and grabs me, his forearm once again threatening to press upon my throat.
I clear my thoughts as fast as I can this time, stepping on his toe as hard as possible while putting all my weight on it. His forearm remains tight around me, but when I slam my elbow into his ribs with all my strength, he loosens his grip for the shortest second. I duck under, twisting out of his hold, using my palm to shove him away.
He steps closer, and this time, I let him as he leans closer to my ear. “Good girl,” he praises.
His breath tickles me, making me squirm where I stand, shivers racing over my skin. I shouldn’t feel this affected by him now when he’s teaching me self-defense, but his allure is hard to resist. Like a pirate drawn to treasure chests far away.
Leaving a wet kiss on my neck, he bites gently, and I can’t but squeeze my legs together, wanting more despite knowing I shouldn’t. Then he steps away, lips tilted into a cruel smirk.
“So easily distracted, little doll. Are you wet for me?”
I nearly choke on my saliva as he says those words shamelessly. “I amsonot answering that.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter.
“If the perpetrator is right in front of you, you will want to use the so-called palm heel strike. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, toes pointed forward, and one foot slightly before the other to keep balance.”
He demonstrates, easily changing the topic, and I follow his lead, trying to ignore the heat scorching in his eyes. I feel like an inferno on the inside, needing him desperately.
“Keep your fingers pointed up and your hands flexed backward. If you rotate your hips while striking, it can become more powerful. If you’re close, a palm-heel to the face might just give you the opportunity to gouge or scratch out the eyes. If you get the chance, you do that. Gouging out eyes can be easy if youknow the right techniques.”
I breathe out, shaking off the intense desire within me. “And how do I do that?”
Approaching me, his hands gently cup my cheeks. I instinctively lean into his touch, meeting his gaze. His fingers trace a light path from my cheeks to my lips, then to my nose, before finally resting on the bridge of my nose, just beside the corners of my eyes.
“You can use your thumbs, pressing right here as hard as you can,” he says, his fingers pressing lightly on my face. “It’ll leave them momentarily blind and scared, and then you push harder. Hook your thumbs until the eyes pop out.” He smirks, adding, “I should advise saving that for the worst-case scenarios, but I know what a thirst for violence you’ve grown.”
I roll my eyes at his comment.
