Page 43 of From the Ashes
“Of course.” I take one from the dresser and lay it on her. The weather is turning cold and gloomy today, I even had to put one more sweater on Noah this morning.
“It’s good to see you like that,” she says as she pulls the cover over her elegant silk blouse.
What does she mean?
“Never mind, dear.” She smiles before winking at me.
12
CARTER
Lana is staring at me,fist up at shoulder level, guarding her chest, bouncing on her feet like I just taught her a few minutes ago. It’s a date. Sure. But I still want to teach her how to defend herself if she ever needs to, especially since I’m not around all the time. Which, according to my therapist, wouldn’t be healthy. Whatever. If I could, I’d stalk her even in her sleep, just to make sure she’s safe. But Ash said something about being a red flag, and now I can’t get it out of my head. I’ll behave as normal as my messed-up mind can, and hopefully, I won’t mess everything up.
“Hey,” she calls me, bringing me back to the present, the determination in her hazelnut eyes distracting me. Or is it her pair of black leggings sticking to her thighs so damn much? It was hard enough to stay focused on the road with her behind my back on my bike that I had to bite the inside of my cheeks so hard it bled a bit. Keeping my focus on Lana is like trying to ride a bike on ice, no grip, no control, just pure skidding.
“Alright, show me what you’ve got,” I grunt, my voice as steady as I can manage. She throws a punch hesitantly, her lips parting as if she was surprised by her own strength.
“Good,” I say, hoping it’ll give her confidence to keep going. “Try to aim a bit higher on the next one.”
“I…I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“O-okay…”
“C’mon, sweetness, imagine, imagine it’shim.” I deliver it flatly, knowing it might push her over the edge. But maybe that’s where she’ll remember her strength. I want that for her, because that’s how I survived all these years. I learned to live with my anger, to shape it into something useful. I’m not saying I’m healed. Far from it. But I’ve come a long way, and if I can help her see that anger doesn’t have to be the enemy, I will. She can use it. Control it.Ownit. Her next blow comes fast, harder this time, aimed straight for my chin. I dodge it by a hair, and damn, I wish I could smile.
“Sharp,” I tell her, nodding. She blushes, putting her palms on her face to feel the heat. I get closer and remove her hands, looking at them with the sudden urge to cover her knuckles with kisses.Is kissing hands a thing now?I used to mostly cut them off with a saw, but with Lana, damn, I just want to worship every inch of her.
“Carter?” she murmurs. “Are you okay?” I must have stared a bit too much. Sometimes the world stops when I dissociate and drift elsewhere in my mind.
“I was picturing kissing your palms,” I grunt. “Your hands are very distracting.”
“Oh.” She bites her smile and the look of her teeth digging into her lower lip sends a jolt of electricity to my stomach.
“Now, I want you to defend yourself when I attack you. We’re going to try this move; it’s easy. Here,” I say as I circle her and stand behind her back, her shoulders rising fast. “Just breathe, it’s an exercise. You’re in control,” I remind her, hoping my voice is warmer than a brick. “When I do this,” I pretend to grab her ribs and rest my palm on her mouth to silence her, which is quite plausible for a female getting attacked in the street, “strikeme with your right elbow in the ribs, then quickly take my index finger with your left hand and twist my finger.” I show her the move by taking her hand in mine and mimicking the gesture. “The attacker will most likely let you go, taken by surprise when you twist his index,” I explain. “It’s very effective.”
“I’m not sure I can remember all these moves.”
“Don’t worry about it, just trust me. It’ll work.”
“Okay…” She trails off, unconvinced.
“You ready, sweetness?”
“Yes,” she says in a breathy voice, and I hear the sound of it resound into my bones. This voice, damn. I want to hear it every day of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to sleep. That little, sweet voice. Like honey melting on a sunny day. I grab her firmly, my other hand drifting to her full lips to silence her. And my world falls off its axis when she immediately shoves her elbows in my ribs with more strength than I was expecting and then twists my index hard, forcing me to let her go, and watch her all fucking smily and out of breath, her hands resting on her thighs, staring at me intensely.She did it. On her first try.I flex my hand and move my fingers, but the pain is already gone. My girl may be sweet, but she definitely knows how to bite, and I couldn’t be prouder.
“That was perfect, Lana. Really,” I tell her, wondering about all the other moves I could teach her and make her a damn walking weapon nobody would expect.
“Really?” she asks, blushing.
Blushing is good. Yes. Right.
“You're a fast learner,” I say, tilting my head to the side. “Do you want to continue?”
She nods, eager, hungry for more.
Damn, this woman will be the end of me.
