Page 9 of Enchanted Shadows
Vivian offered none too innocently, “Thrust? A forceful thrust?”
I rubbed a hand down my face. We weren’t even done with the first move of three before the inappropriate comments started up. I swore the women were equally as terrible as my men training classes. No better than teenage boys.
“Knock it off.”
I was thinking it, but it hadn’t been me to say the words. I looked up to see Zara there, snapping at all of them. “This is important. For all of us. Save the jokes for later.”
My eyes hit hers and she gave me a barely there dip of her chin. Had she really just helped me?
I mimicked the motion again. “Forcefully thrust. If truly being attacked, remember some of you have longer fingernails. You want to gouge in the eyes with those nails or scratch and cause some damage? Be my guest. Whatever scumbag chooses to attack you is not walking away unharmed, you hear me?” My eyes went to my sister’s. “And I would think you, of all people, would want to pay close attention here, Wren.”
She closed her eyes a moment and swallowed before giving me one nod. There were a few curious glances between us.
I moved on to the second move, a groin kick, and ended with a move where you block with one arm and punch with the dominant hand. Blocking was everything in self-defense, and we would spend a day or more working on stance and blocking.
Lesson delivered, getting used to the motions was the best way to learn. “Now split up and let’s get to practicing. Really do the moves, like you do want to hurt one another. The person playing the part of the attacker can practice deflecting.”
They all moved, forming groups of two. All except one. Zara.
“Guess you’re stuck with me,” I told her.
“They’re punishing me for telling them to stop,” she groaned.
“You were right.”
She sighed. “They know that too.”
I spun to Miles. “Walk around and make sure they are doing things right, would you? I’m fairly certain at this point they’d like to hear someone else’s voice telling them what they’re doing wrong.”
Miles smirked and moved to walk around the groups.
We practiced the palm strike first. With one problem. Zara was barely hitting me. “Come on,” I demanded. “Hit me harder. I can take it.”
The next drive she did, slapping my forehead harder. And I let her. She needed to learn to not be afraid to hit someone.
When we moved to groin kicks, she asked, “Don’t you want me to join another group for this?”
“No. You’re stuck with me.”
She mumbled under her breath as she shifted her weight to kick, “I’ve been stuck with far worse.”
Her words registered a moment later, so I reached out and snagged her foot before it could find purchase. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her eyes went wide as she hopped on one leg. “Nothing.”
I dropped her leg. “Zara. You can’taskfor self-defense and then say something like that to me.”
She moved back to ready stance. “Just forget I mentioned it, okay?”
“No. Who are you afraid of?”
She swallowed. “And what are you going to do? Hunt them down and go all growly savage on them?”
“Yes.”
I waited for her to tell me something, anything, but she didn’tsay a word, just moved right into the stance and went for another kick.
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Are you safe? Just tell me you’re safe.”
