Page 134 of Claimed By a King

“That doesn’t count,” I hiss. Straightening my spine, I wipe the sweat from my forehead and glare daggers at her. “I said I needed a minute.”

Cara scoffs. “You wanted me to teach you how to fight, correct? Well, you can’t fucking ask for timeouts.” Propping her hands on her hips, she looks at me like I’m being stupid. “Did you ever ask Irina for a break? Or what about Rusty? No, I know. When Gunner was just about to rape and mark you, you just asked for a break. Right?”

“That’s enough, Cara,” Gray roars angrily. “Show some fucking respect.”

I blow a few errant tendrils away, but the stubborn fuckers are sticking to my clammy forehead. Needing time to absorb Cara’s words, I take the time to stick them back into the messy bun I’m sporting.

“She’s right,” I sigh, not happy to admit it. “I can’t just ask for a timeout.” Then I tilt my head to the side and peer up at Cara, trying to appear innocent. “Did you ever ask Rusty and your mom for a break?”

Cara squares her shoulders and gives me a look that resembles reluctant respect. Well, I’m not the one who wentdirty first. She fucking did. And if she can dish it out, she can take it.

“Touché,” she says. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, Zoe. But you have to stick it out. No one is going to cut you any slack just because you twist an ankle or need water. Fucking hell, woman. I don’t even know why I have to tell you that when you already know what they’re capable of.”

Running my hand over my thigh where her kick landed, I wince. Cara’s kicks are no fucking joke, and now it hurts to even rest my weight on that leg.

“I know,” I sigh.

Still unwilling to afford me time to put my head on straight, Cara snaps her fingers in my face. “Focus,” she hisses. “I’ve fucking told you I’m a kickboxer. So what does that tell you?”

Her words from previous lessons come back to me. “To get up close because you have an advantage if I keep my distance.”

“Exactly,” she beams. “But I believe my exact words were that I would break your fucking bones if you keep hesitating.”

I grumble something and flip her off. Then I step back to the X she drew on the mat to indicate my starting position. Okay, so I need to find a way to bait her kick, and then use it to move closer to her until she’s forced to use her arms.

As Gray counts down from ten, I keep repeating that plan to myself. Though I know it’s what I need to do, so far I’ve kept trying to avoid her lethal legs because… well, because it fucking hurts and I don’t relish being hurt. But I have to get over that. Because it’s always going to hurt.

“One,” Gray says, and I immediately snap into focus.

I circle Cara twice, testing the way my leg feels. God, I hate the superior smile on her lips. But then I realize something I haven’t fully understood until now. That’s her downfall. She’s so fucking sure she’s better than me, she can already taste the win. She’d never expect me to be able to pull one over her.

Moving closer, I limp a little, favoring my uninjured leg, which I know she’ll notice. When I’m within reach of her, she takes half a step back, changing her weight to the opposite leg. It feels like time’s slowing down, and this time I see the shift in her balance, and the way she draws up her leg before it comes toward me.

I shift to the side so her heel only grazes my thigh instead of hitting it with full impact. Then I grip her ankle and twist it, unbalancing her as I keep my hold on it.

She hisses, her eyes turning dark as I refuse to let go, no matter how much she tries to break free. I secure her ankle against my side, using my hand to keep it flush against me so she doesn’t have any wiggle room.

Then I slowly move closer, forcing her to adjust by jumping around on one leg. Instead of coming straight for her, I drag it out and begin to circle her again. I don’t know if my plan is good, but I imagine it must be a strain, and if I can tire her out before she can retaliate, well that’s fucking good for me—and my poor, aching body.

I don’t notice more people have joined us until I hear Rose shout, “My money’s on Cara.”

“No way,” Alana laughs. “This is all Z’s show.”

I recognize Munroe’s deep voice. “C versus Z. Am I the only one who’s fucking hard right now?” The next thing I hear is an “Ow” and I can’t help smiling as I imagine Gray punching him.

He isn’t wrong, though. It is a turn on.

I’m not wet, but my body is highly attuned to every friction from my clothing, and I’m fucking high on the fact that I’ve made progress against someone as impressive and skilled as Cara.

“Not bad, Mama Z,” she cackles. “Not bad at all.”

I know it’s not fucking bad, I don’t need her to tell me that. Stiffening my spine, I curl my upper lip. A rebuttal on my tongue, begging for me to take her down a peg or two. But before I can say anything, I see it. The fleeting look in her eyes tells me that I have her, which means she’s trying to unnerve me so Ilose it.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

I almost lose it when she says that. My mind wanting to transport me back to the Reapers’ house when I last heard those words. But I shake my head and grit my teeth, refusing to let her throw me off.

“Careful, Zoe.” Cara grins. “I think my foot is touching one of your scars.”

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