Page 35 of Darkness I Become
Cade’s mouth curved into a small, confrontational smile. “You scared there, darling? What happened? I’ve always thought of you like a little viper—always ready to strike.”
Asha rolled her eyes, but much to her annoyance, the taunt was working on her.
“Not scared. Just bored.”
He closed the gap between them, his face inches from hers. She took a sharp inhale at his nearness. She could feel the heat of his body.
“So, it should be easy, then, to take me down,” Cade said in a low, intimate tone. “You gonna show me what you got, or what?”
Asha shot him a glare. “Fuck off.”
To her further annoyance, he laughed. “This should be good. Show me a little bit of what you gave Angel, huh?”
The mention of her tormentor finally made Asha snap. She threw a punch, but he caught her fist in his hand and twisted her arm behind her back. His other arm wrapped around her throat, holding her firmly in place. He wasn’t hurting her, but she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Lesson one,” he said by her ear. “Uncontrolled rage makes you sloppy. Sloppy fighters make stupid mistakes.”
Cade released her, and she lashed out at him again. He blocked each of her blows almost lazily, like it was too easy. That only heightened her frustration, and she struck out at him again, only to have him step out of her reach. She paused, panting, and was vexed when she realized that he looked entirely unbothered. He didn’t even look winded.
“As a woman of average size, you’re at a disadvantage against most male combatants,” he said matter-of-factly. “Weapons even the odds, but your best weapon is your brain.”
“Did yoursenseiteach you that?” Asha said sardonically, and he laughed again. She hated how much she liked the sound of his laugh, and the way it lit up and softened his intense, serious features.
“No. But it’s what I’ve known to be true, in battle after battle. The ability to stay calm, think clearly, and make good decisions in extreme situations is what keeps you alive.”
“And you’re saying that I haven’t made good decisions,” she shot back.
“On the contrary,” Cade replied, catching her fist in his hand as she threw another punch. “I think you’ve done the best anyone could dowithout any training. It’s not something we naturally know how to do. Panic is our default.”
He walked over to his pack, which leaned against the outside wall of the condo. He fished inside, then withdrew two long strips of fabric, plus what looked like crudely fashioned kneepads. They were like tiny cushions, clumsily made by wrapping burlap around some kind of stuffing.
“What the hell are those?” Asha said, bewildered.
Cade smiled. “Padding. Give me your hands for a minute.”
She hesitated. No one had touched her since the attack except for Leo, when he’d tended to her. She thought of the last week, when they’d shared a bed and Cade had been careful to stick to his side, putting as much distance between them as possible. How she’d both wanted it and hated it, and how she’d hated herself for wanting it.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Cade murmured, breaking through her thoughts. “Haven’t I proven that, at least?”
His grey eyes were focused, but softer than usual, entreating. They asked for her trust. She didn’t know if she could give it, but they made her want to. She sighed and held out her hands.
Cade unraveled the strips of fabric and wound them around each of her palms, then up her fingers, his touch featherlight and careful. She knew he was trying not to frighten her, and paradoxically, that angered her. She hated being so fragile that he had to walk on eggshells around her. She needed to be better, stronger.
“Alright,” Cade said once her hands were wrapped. He tied the odd-looking kneepads around his own hands with ribbons sewn onto the sides. They looked bizarre, and Asha had to suppress a snort as he held up his hands. “Now, punch me as hard as you can.”
She did snort at that. “Anywhere, or?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Quit stalling.”
Asha took in a breath, then struck out at him again, hitting his left hand.
“Terrible,” Cade remarked. “That can’t be how hard you hit Angel. Guy had a black eye and a fat lip.”
She hit him again, this time on the right. “So what if it’s not?”
“So what?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “So maybe what really happened was an accident, huh? Maybe you and him got a little kinky, and things just got out of hand?”
Flashbacks came, fast and furious. Hitting Angel in the face with the ashtray; him screaming; her screaming as he burned her with cigarettes; stumbling out of his room, blood oozing between her thighs.
