Page 54 of Unforgiving Queen
“And let you off easy?” he retorted wryly. “No chance in hell.”
I rolled my eyes. “I really don’t know why women like you,” I muttered under my breath. “You are borderline sadistic.”
He grinned. “That’s probablywhythey like me.”
“I don’t even want to know what that means.” I shook my head, suppressing a grin. The ladies who came to this center either hoped for an ounce of Darius’s attention or were serious about self-defense. There was no middle ground. I fell in the second group of women. The fact that we got along and Darius had a heart of gold underneath that wide chest was a bonus.
He got in position and I mimicked the movement. Darius had hammered into me that you could tell by looking in your opponent’s eyes what their next move would be. I waited, keeping a keen eye on him.
There it was. Barely a twitch in his forearm muscle, and he attacked. Going on instinct, I sidestepped him.
“Yes!” I exclaimed, only too fucking soon, because he moved again, and before I could blink, he flipped me over. “Ouch,” I grunted, landing on my back.
He chuckled.
“Don’t ever claim your victory before it’s guaranteed.” He extended his hand, and I took it so he could pull me to my feet. “But this wasn’t bad.”
I rubbed my back. “Maybe for you. It was painful for me.”
“You’re getting better.”
I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders.
“Well, it only took three years.” I kept my eyes on the sparring mats.
“Okay, again,” he commanded. I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling, and brought my focus back to him. “Now, attack me.”
Without another thought, I advanced on him. Just as Darius reached out to grab me, I kicked him between his legs. Unfortunately, he caught my foot, sending me toppling back with a heavy thud, my breath swishing out of my lungs.
“Good job, aim for the balls,” he praised. My eyes locked on the ceiling, and the flickering and buzzing of the lights managed to ground me. I fucking hated physical activity, but I hated being vulnerable and weak even more.
“I need a smaller man to spar with,” I finally said, finding my voice.
His chuckle filled the air. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
Stifling a wince, I stood up. This training could be brutal, especially when Darius was in a serious kick-ass mood.
“Jesus, I’m dying here and you look like you’re on vacation.”
His lips twitched. “A stinky gym? Not exactly a vacation destination.”
I snickered. “Well, it’s your place.” It wasn’t so bad, and I was sure the sweaty odors couldn’t be helped. There were padded sparring mats everywhere. He also had punching bags in the back two corners, fencing equipment, and then an entire wall covered in knives.
Once in a while, his friends, River and Astor, would come to the gym too. They’d served with Darius in the military and were nowhere near as talkative as their counterpart. At least not to me.
I reached for my phone and checked the time. “It’s not time for a selfie,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes. “I was checking the time, but since you mentioned it—” I grabbed a strand of his blond hair and tugged on it gently, then snapped a picture of us. Grinning wide, I uploaded it onto my Instagram with the caption, “My kind of man. Now let’s see how many women hate me.”
He chuckled, his eyes glimmering. “Or how many men hate me,” he said pointedly. “I’m sure there’ll be one or two who will want to punch me and give me a buzz cut.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You’d look good even with a smashed face and a buzz cut, Darius.”
“Good to know you approve.”
I was still smiling as I set my phone aside.
“Thanks for doing this, Darius.” Lifting my head, I met his gaze. “I just want you to know I appreciate it.”
