Page 18 of From the Ashes
“What? I’m not going to punch you, I don’t want to hurt you,” I gasp, shaking my head. I thought it was about protecting myself, not harming someone else.
“Punch me, Lana. You won’t hurt me, I promise. I’ll teach you how to counter a blow, but I don’t want to be the one aiming at you, so punch me and I’ll show you how I protect myself from it,” he explains, his voice soft like a blanket around me.
I’ve never done this.
I’ve never defended myself.
Ever.
With a deep breath, I throw a weak punch and my fist connects with Carter’s hard chest. “Again,” he grunts. The second time, I add more power and feel it to the end of my digits. “Good. You’ve got power in your arm,” he says, a hint of approval in his voice that sends a thrill through me. “One more,” he prompts.
“Wait, I don’t want to hurt you, are you okay?” I’m no Hulk but from experience, I know for a fact that getting punched isn’t a nice sensation.
“I’m used to fighting sweetness, don’t worry about me, not even a second, okay?” he reassures me, the nickname slipping from his lips naturally like he said it a thousand times before.
Sweetness.
I could call him on it.
I could.
“Okay,” I murmur before sending another punch on his muscular chest.
“Better.” He nods, stepping closer again. “Now look at my body language, look for cues of your opponent striking back.”There’s a flutter in my chest, both from the intensity of the lesson and the closeness of his body to mine.
“What… What do I do if they throw it back?” I ask, reminding us of why we’re here in the first place. Carter’s expression shifts, a shadow of seriousness crossing his face.
“You need to be quick. Duck under it, or sidestep. Avoid the impact. It’s all about reaction.” He demonstrates, moving gracefully despite his tall frame. “Here, I’ll show you, lower your knees,” he commands, pointing at my leg, “arms protecting your face and stomach, yes, exactly like that.”
I blush at the sound of his raspy voice softening on me. “Now step to the side, quicker, yes, exactly.” He steps toward me. “I’m gonna fake punch you now. I won’t hurt you, but we’ll do it once so you can see that you can protect yourself from it, okay?” His blue eyes go back and forth between mine and my mouth as if he wants to find all the answers on my face.
“Okay,” I murmur, the wheels of abuse waking up in my memory, unsure of how I would react to someone punching me.
“Ready?” he asks again, his jaw ticks and I wonder if this is how he displays nervousness. I nod and look at him aiming at me. Taking a deep breath I lower my knee, avoid his fist and step to the side, his body away from mine. He stares at me, my fists still protecting my face, then steps closer and delicately unfolds my arms back to my side like a flower.
“Perfect,” he mutters so low I wonder if it was meant for me to hear.How can this giant be so cold and gentle at the same time?“I think we’ll stop here for tonight, sweetness. Is that alright with you?” he asks, his thumb mindlessly stroking my hand again. Little fireworks spread on my arms as his touch lights up a fire in me I thought would never spark again.
“I’m kind of hungry, actually.”
“I know just the place,” he says bluntly, clenching his jaw. I part my lips, my gaze drawn to his like magnets. But then, aloud noise from the bar side of the hall shatters the moment and breaks our spell.
“Here,” he says, giving me a bottle of water, “I’m gonna grab a sweatshirt for you, it’s cold outside. Then we’ll walk to it. It’s close, five minutes tops.”
“Great.” I give him a soft smile, finishing the water bottle before he comes back with a large sweatshirt carrying the name of his club on the back.Raven Sons MC Club.
“Sorry, I didn’t have anything in your size. That’s mine.”
I nod. “It’s okay, thank you.” I slide inside his large black sweatshirt, the scent of spice and forest imprinting on my skin.Could I…keep it?
“Let’s go,” he states, offering his hand, pulling up the rope of the ring for me to go down easily. Without letting go of my hand, we walk outside, passing by the bar where a few men look at us, their banter going silent for a few seconds as we pass by them, some staring at Carter with wide eyes and others carrying a smug grin. I don’t want to seem rude, so I offer a small nod before we leave the place by the large main door.
“Where are you taking me?” I smile, enjoying his hand holding mine, and his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. His hold is soft yet strong, and I like it. There’s something about him that grounds me, that makes me feel safe, protected from my past.
“I hope you like tacos,” he says, looking down at me with a spark in his eyes.
“I love tacos,” I reply, actually hungry and glad we’re not heading to a fancy over-the-top restaurant like Ben used to enjoy.
“Good,” he deadpans, looking at the street left and right before we cross it, continuously checking for cars or anything that could harm me.
