“Breaker ofBalls.” She crouched into position, cracking her knuckles. The she-elf onscreen followed suit. “Bring it, vampire king.”
Ignoring the sight of her long, toned legs, the T-shirt hiding nothing as she crouched on the platform, Dorian nodded brusquely. “Oh, Ishallbring it.”
“Oh, Ishallbring it,” she mocked. Her English accent was bang on. “Shall you bring a spot of tea and biscuits as well? Perhaps a bit of jam from your pantry?”
Dorian turned to say something witty, but the moment his eyes left the screen, she threw a sucker-punch. He tried to duck, but he was a beat too slow. Bone Crusher took a direct hit to the balls.
Dorian groaned. “Living up to the name, I see.”
“That’s what you get when you sleep on B.O.B.”
“Noted,” he said. Onscreen, Bone Crusher regained his balance, faking her out and landing a solid right hook that sent Breaker of Balls skittering backward.
Charlotte huffed out a curse.
“Do you know what your problem is, Breaker?” he asked.
“Lack of decent competition?”
“No, love. You fight dirty.”
“Gets the job done, doesn’t it?”
“In Midnight Marauder, yes. But you lack technique. In a real fight—”
“I’d just grab your broom handle. And no, that’s not a euphemism.” She crouched low and kicked, trying to sweep Bone Crusher’s legs out from under him, but he evaded the move with a quick hop, responding with a fierce kick to the chest that knocked Breaker flat on her back.
He could’ve ended it right there—pounced on her and gone in for the kill. But suddenly he pictured Rudy—that greasy, despicable thug—jumping her in an alley, catching her totally unaware. He pictured Duchanes, biting into her neck. He pictured those other two vampire fucks, batting her around like a cat toy.
Rage boiled up inside him.
“Listen to me, Charlotte,” he said urgently. “In a real fight, you might not get a second chance—the other man won’t look away. You’ve got to stay cool under pressure. Smart. You’re not a large woman, so chances are you’ll have to outthink rather than out-fight your opponent.”
Charlotte removed her helmet and turned to face Dorian, her eyes somber and serious. The fact that she hadn’t taken advantage of his momentary distraction told him she understood the gravity of his warning.
Suddenly, their little skirmish was no longer about a video game vendetta. It was about reality—Charlotte’s reality. And the moment either of them forgot about that, the moment her life—or Sasha’s—could end.
Yes, Dorian could and would—with a fucking smile on his face and a song in his heart—rip out throats and crush skulls and behead anyone who so much asbreathedon her in his presence.
But she wouldn’t always be in his presence. Especially once they dealt with her uncle and eliminated the threat of Duchanes.
After that, Dorian realized with a sick twist in his gut, he’d likely never see her again.
“You want to take the most effective shot you can,” he said now, recalling the scrappy fights of his misspent youth as a human, knocking around in the stables with the other bored nobles. “One that will take even the largest opponent down fast. The average man—and this goes for vampires and demons too—will expect a woman to kick him in the balls, scratch his face, or try to squirm out of his grip. But what’s most effective?”
“Aside from fifty-thousand volts up the ass?” Charlotte shrugged. “Punch him in the gut?”
“You could try that, sure. But unless you’ve got proper technique and enough power behind the hit, it won’t make a difference, and you might break your hand.”
“I have no idea, then. I would probably go for the eyes or the balls.”
“Eyes are okay. But even better? A direct hit to the knee or a stomp to the foot. You can’t always wriggle your way out of someone’s grasp, especially with a man twice your size—evenmoreespecially with a supernatural possessing more strength than you can even fathom. But youmightbe able to knock a knee joint out of place or crush the small bones of his foot, right at the instep. No matter how big and powerful he is, that kind of impact can take him down. Even if it’s just for an instant, it might be the instant that buys your escape and saves your life.” Dorian nodded toward the screen. “Let me show you.”
He set her up in a few different positions, walking her through alternate scenarios—being grabbed from behind, rushed from the front, pinned on the ground. After a few tries, she started to get the hang of it, so Dorian booted up a new match—no more hand-holding, no holds barred.
Bone Crusher grabbed Breaker’s arm and twisted, spinning her around backward and wrapping a meaty arm across her chest. Holding her in place on the screen, real-life Dorian resisted the urge to tell Charlotte what to do.
After struggling for a few seconds, Breaker of Balls finally raised her knee, then slammed her heel down hard, smashing Bone Crusher’s foot. As his avatar hobbled backward, she spun around and jammed a heel squarely into his knee. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg in agony onscreen. Breaker pressed her advantage and finished him off with a kick to the face that laid him flat.
