Page 49 of Knot What She Seems
“Will do,” I lie before turning back down the hall and trying not to feel as though I’m marching into a dark cave to face a snarling group of rabid grizzlies.
* * *
“We’re goingto work on open-handed punches today. Hit with the base of your palm, right here,” Ridge calls out in a strict, dictatorial tone. His annoyingly perfect face scans us all with a dismissive glance that I swear I saw earlier in the magazines I flipped through. There’s an arrogant, bored look to his expression that perfectly matches the men advertising cologne.
Just imagining him shoved up against a tree, a dozen lights blinding him, and a photographer clicking away and saying, “That’s it. Scowl for me, baby,” has me snorting.
“The little prince thinks our tips are funny, huh?” Alpha Kylian suddenly appears at my side, just like he’s been prone to do the last several classes. The cruel man leans in close, an angry expression on his face as one of his tattooed hands reaches forward and grabs me, yanking me forward.
Anxiety rumbles up my stomach as he pulls me toward the front of the gym. My eyes dart to Sam, and my roommate gives me a sympathetic look, but what else can he do?
“Teddie here has kindly volunteered to demonstrate the issues with a closed-fist punch,” Kylian announces. He looks far too amused for his pronouncement to mean anything good.
Ridge steps forward, sliding body armor down his chest before donning a helmet. Gone is his advertisement-worthy expression. Instead, a bloodthirsty look crosses his features—and to my shock, that terrifying, evil expression sends a jolt of hot lust screaming down my spine.
Fuck.
No.
He steps closer, and his scent invades my nostrils. Warm. Delicious. I could drink it down like spiked cider.
I try to hold my breath.
He smirks, thinking that I’m nervous and not that I’m frantically trying to backpedal against my body’s traitorous responses to his nearness. To the height of him as he towers over me.
Hot.
So damn hot.
My pulse starts to race, and my nipples pebble beneath my suit. I know that slick isn’t going to be far behind, and I need to get this over with so I can rush to the bathroom before the flood happens.
Another step closer, and Ridge is close enough to reach down and caress my cheek. Of course, he doesn’t.
He sees Teddie, not me.
He smells Teddie, not me.
But me, I see and scent every alpha inch of him. And it makes my knees grow precariously weak.
“You’re gonna punch me, right here.” He taps his chest, just above his heart.
I nod, turning my head to the side to steal a quick breath—but Kylian’s there, crowding me like always. Instead of relief, I’m battered by more delicious alpha pheromones. Another cruel expression that has me torn between wanting to slap the shit out of him and kiss him.
Frustration knots my fingers into a fist, and I bring it back, surging forward and letting my anger fuel a punch that I know is going to be futile, a punch that’s going to hurt me more than it ever will this alpha—just like our secret scent match tortures me while my scent blockers leave these bastards unaware.
But if Ridge thinks he can intimidate me into backing down, thinks that making me hurt myself is going to dissuade me, and thinks that a public smackdown is going to rein me in…
Fuck him.
Fuck fate.
Fuck everything.
It’s all been piling on my shoulders, and I’ve had enough.
My knuckles crash into the armored breastplate, and it’s like a car crashing into a brick wall. Immediately, I feel something crack, and pain crumples my hand, lancing up my arm. But I grind my molars together as I lower my fist, and I meet his burning gaze with the blazing fire of my own.
That’s when the slick hits.
