Page 62 of A Lie so Pretty and Poisonous

Darragh continued, “I met Ros ten years ago when I had to pull some asshole off her as he was punching her in the face outside a tavern. She was holding her own surprisingly well for such a little thing, but that seraph was twice her size, and I knew if I didn’t intervene, she would either be killed or thrown in a cell for killing him. She has a nasty enchant that allows her to make cuts deep and fast, even through dense surfaces. Great for seamstress work, bad for staying out of trouble.”

Fiery and fierce as I suspected she was. I smiled. “I knew I liked her.”

“We have been friends ever since.” His mouth tilted up on one side. “I didn’t get a choice. She bullied me into friendship.”

“I wish I had her power and strength.”

His smile vanished. “You are stronger than you know.” Darragh looked at me with such regard that I believed him. I had to. His belief in me helped me to believe in myself. He picked up a sandbag with one arm like it weighed nothing. “Let’s move on to tossing someone off of you since you have the basics of throwing a punch.”

We spent the next hour going through drills on how to throw someone off me while I was on my back. He showed me how by tossing the bag of sand, made to look and weigh just as much as an average man, and then had me do the same.

“You’re sure you are comfortable if we do it this way?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time. After I threw him a look that could sharpen a blade, he huffed out a laugh and stepped back from me with his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of your fist. Just know that you can tell me when anything becomes too much. Especially after what happened yesterday.” His soft eyes pointedly met mine.

I gave him a quick nod and went back to practicing drills. I was determined and tired of feeling helpless. Yesterday’s attack was the moment I knew I needed to take control. That fire I felt simmering just beneath my skin has been begging to roar to a destructive blaze for such a long time, and I let that feeling drive me.

Plant feet. Buck hips. Wrap arms around chest. Elbow to arm. Twist and roll. Over and over again.

This was far harder with so many more steps than throwing a punch, but I listened intently, adjusting my body and moves with verbal guidance from Darragh. He took painstaking care not to touch me.

When I had successfully thrown the bag off me several times to Darragh’s liking, he smiled widely. “I think that’s enough for the day. You must be tired and probably need to ready for dinner soon.”

“What? No! I am just starting to get the hang of it,” I said genuinely. “I thought I would get to test my new skills before leaving.”

He paused and searched my face. “Alright. One chance to test out what you learned, and then we are done. I don’t want you to be too tired and sore tomorrow. You won’t be able to train again anytime soon if you’re hurting too badly. Ask Anya to heal anything that may be a bother.”

I drank some water and nodded. “Deal.”

“Now, step up to the sandbag. Remember what I taught you about your positioning and try to punch at something behind the bag, not at the bag. Rotate your hips and core. That is your power source. Sometimes when I spar, I like to picture someone who is pissing me off to land punches extra hard.”

“Got it.” I lined myself up to the bag and stared at it. Terren’s arrogant prick of a face started to appear at the top. My eyes turned cold, and I flared my nostrils. Shoulder. Step. Rotate. Punch. THUD. The blow landed hard. The vibration of it shot up my arm and into my shoulder, stunning me for a moment.

Darragh’s eyebrows rose. “Well done!” He clapped. “I don’t know who you pictured, but that looked like it would’ve at least broken a nose!”

I swelled with pride and beamed at him, giddy that I accomplished such a solid hit.

“On that note, go get a hard-earned bath and some dinner!”

My face dropped. “Wait, I have to try the body toss.”

Darragh opened his mouth but then closed it, a moment passing before shaking his head. “Rory, your attack just happened yesterday.”

I searched his expression. “I don’t understand.”

“To do the throw, you will need someone to get on top of you, mimicking an attack. Maybe another day when I can get Ros to help.”

Oh. It didn’t occur to me that the next step would require him to be on top of me. I took a hesitant step toward him. “I understand your apprehension, but I need to do this.”

He shook his head.

“Please.”

Darragh closed his eyes and blew out a slow breath. “Alright. But if I see even a flit of fear cross your face, I stop, and we are done for the day.”

“Understood.”

“Lay down, then,” he gently directed and swept his hand toward the ground.

The dirt of the arena floor was soft underneath me as I settled on my back and adjusted my body. The motion sent up a cloud of dust from the soft ground, drying my eyes. Darragh slowly lowered himself next to me. Positioning himself at my waist, his voice lowered. “I have to straddle your hips and grab your arms. Are you sure this is alright?”