Page 36 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
“Yes, I’m going to attack you, but I’ll show you how to get out of it.”
My heart somersaults imagining his brutish body, the massive bulk of him, coming at me. I wouldn’t stand a chance. Besides, would I really want to stop him from pinning me down, anyway? I picture his body pressing into mine and decide that I most definitely wouldn’t want to fight him off.
I giggle and bite at the Velcro, strapping my gloves in place. He steps forward, taking my hand to help free me from the gloves. “What’s so funny?” he asks.
“I don’t stand a chance against you.” I make a point of showing him how much taller he is than me by standing on my tiptoes and holding my hand up in the air.
“It’s not about the height,” he replies, shaking his head as he pulls my other glove off and tosses it to the ground with the sparring pads.
I take both hands and try to wrap them around one of his biceps. It doesn’t work.
Scrunching my face, I look at him as though I’ve proven my point.
He laughs, “It’s not about the muscle either, Belle. You’ll see. It’s about catching your opponent off guard and using their weight and strength against them. And any chance you have to distract your attacker, you use it to your advantage.”
I’m skeptical, but three days ago I would never have believed I could be so good at boxing, so I’m willing to give it my all regardless. What’s the worst that could happen? Ardalion pins me down?
I’m okay with that.
Ardalion hands me a bottle of water. We’re both covered in a sheen of sweat. He looks so damn good it’s hard to focus.
I follow him to the mats and wait while he explains to me what’s about to happen.
At first, he walks me through his attack in slow motion.
“Let’s say I come at you like this.” He steps close, his body pressed against mine. Heat flares between us. “And my goal is to tackle you to the ground. I’d swing my legs beneath you—" He sweeps one leg in a wide arc, kicking against my ankle.
“At that point you’d be on your back,” he explains.
I’m trying to focus, I really am, but his arm is around me as he dips me backwards and leans over me to show me how I’d fall. I can smell the fresh sweat on his skin, his cologne, his breath, hot against my cheek.
“What’s most important in this moment is not to panic, to be aware of my movements, and try to stay one step ahead of them.”
“How?” I ask, breathless. “You move so fast when it’s really happening.”
“Let’s practice. For now, you aren’t going to defend yourself, just watch me, pay attention to everything.”
He doesn’t come flying at me, but it’s still daunting.
Every time he knocks me to the floor, I get more annoyed. He reaches his hand out to lift me back up again, but Iwantto defend myself now.
“Are you ready for the next step?” he asks, seeing my frustration.
“Definitely,” I nod. I think he did that on purpose to work me up.
Ardalion shows me how to escape him—as he comes running towards me, I’m supposed to sidestep and push him in the same direction he was already moving. I'll use his momentum against him, and it’ll cause him to land hard on his face.
He also talks me through what happens if I don’t manage to do that—once he’s on top of me, how I’d push him off, also using his strength or movements to do so. It makes sense in theory.
But in reality, it seems impossible.
We try.
And we try again.
And again.
And every single time, I end up on the floor with the wind knocked out of me.
