Page 117 of The Scars Within
Rhodes stood, leaving the dust on his leathers to settle as he reached a hand down to me. I placed mine in his, and he tugged me effortlessly to my feet. I had thought Rhodes was lethally beautiful before, but now, with a streak of war paint marking his face, he looked…
Without warning, he twisted my body with the hand he held, pulling me against his chest in a bear hug, my arms pinned tightly to my chest.
“Next, a man’s advantage over a woman your size,” he murmured, his voice low in my ear. “If a man grabs you like this, he’s using his size and strength to overpower you. But there is always a weakness.”
His warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of my neck, and the combination of his proximity and the heat of his body sent a shiver down my spine. The cashmere sandalwood and vanilla scent of him flooded my senses. His arms caged me in like iron bars.
Iron chains.
I swallowed hard, my mind spinning faster than my heartbeat as the memory resurfaced. “I’m listening,” I muttered, though it sounded more angry than I intended.
“Good. First,” he said, his arms tightening slightly to demonstrate, “drop your weight.”
I obeyed and bent my knees, letting myself sink lower. It wasn’t much—Rhodes is strong enough to lift me off the ground like a ragdoll—but I could feel a slight shift in his hold as his stance had to adjust to my weight.
“See that?” he murmured, his voice still infuriatingly calm. “It throws the attacker off balance. Now, create space. Use your hips to push backward, hard.”
I took a steadying breath and thrust my hips back into him as forcefully as I could.
He cut me off before I could make any more attempts. “Okay, okay,” he tensed. “Now, the weak spot. Here.” He released me just long enough to grab one of my wrists and guide it toward his own hand, positioning me to twist against the base of his thumb. “Find the same spot in his grip, and twist with everything you’ve got just like before.”
I did as he instructed, twisting my wrists as sharply as I could while simultaneously pushing back again with my hips. Rhodes’ arms slipped just enough for me to feel the pressure release, but he locked his arms around me once more. I huffed.
“That was a good try. I’ll give you one question for it,” his voice rumbled in his chest.
I fought to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly against the crushing weight of his hold. Each exhale came out in ragged puffs, and Rhodes must have sensed my struggle because his grip loosened just enough to let me draw a full breath.
Big mistake.
I drove my elbow back into his gut with everything I had.
Rhodes grunted, his hold faltering just enough for me to step forward and twist sharply toward him. When I turned to face him, Rhodes was hunched over, coughing and clutching his stomach, a small, satisfied smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.
“Two questions,” I breathed, brushing the sweaty hair that was sticking to my face. “But I’ll save them for later so I can make them count.”
Chapter 44
We spent the entire day practicing self-defense moves—what to do if someone grabbed me, pinned me, or attacked from behind. My body already ached, every muscle groaning in protest after hours of relentless drills. But the progress was real. Rhodes hadn’t taken it easy on me since I caught him off guard with that fake-out gut punch. He’d been rough, unforgiving, and downright brutal. But I knew he was doing it for my own good.
Now, we sat on the edge of the sunken mountain plateau, legs dangling over the abyss, as we ate a late lunch that he had packed for us.
The wind whistled around us as I asked, “I agreed not to ask how you learned to fight. But can I ask why it’s so important that I do?” I locked eyes with Rhodes. “Because I sense there’s more to this than just me learning self-defense.”
Rhodes sighed, his shoulders dropping as he tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. The soft breeze tugged at his hair, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. “Do you know what happens to a rider who loses their dragon?”
I searched my mind, trying to recall anything I’d read or heard, but I came up empty. My brows furrowed. “I know it’s an unbreakable vow, but other than that… no. I don’t think Ido.”
His jaw tightened slightly, and his voice grew heavy. “When a fire wielder bonds with a dragon, their magic becomes eternally tied together. A dragon can survive after losing their rider, but the reverse? Not really. If a dragon dies, it severs the Mareki’s connection to their element. A rider is left completely powerless—without even a trace of magic. And here, someone without magic is seen as less than a mundane.”
I blinked, the weight of his words sinking in as he continued.
“In Mageia, if a rider loses their dragon, they’re discharged. Completely cut off from the military. No reassignment, no second chances, no purpose. Just discarded.”
Rhodes straightened his shoulders and looked back at me, his hair tossing in the wind. His steady gaze carried the weight of unspoken words, and the set of his jaw hinted at just how much they meant to him.
He isn’t just teaching me self-defense. He’s giving me a reason to survive if something ever happens to Lakota.
And that reason is... me.
