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I’ve never been this close to another man. Not even Colton. Sometimes he pushed me to go further than kissing. Once, his fingers grazed my inner thigh before I managed to talk him out of it.
We both knew our boundaries.
Thisreaction, however, is violent. This man doesn’t smell like Colton—the scent flooding my nostrils is sharper than mild cologne. Harsher. My thoughts swim with every inhale. I’m dizzy.
Until he grabs my wrist. Fire shoots down the length of my arm, and I gasp at the sensation—but he doesn’t give me the chance to interpret it fully.
“Arms up. No, not like that!” Sighing, he steps in closer.
Close enough that I get a sharp whiff of salt and something more pungent. Maybe aftershave. Maybe blood. It cloys in my lungs as he braces both hands over my shoulders and yanks them into alignment.
“You hurt someone,” I blurt out in a rush. By the time I gather the nerve to meet his gaze, he’s staring at the wall behind me. “Didn’t you?”
“Chin up,” he barks before returning to his attacking pose. “Now raise the pad. Yeah, like that. Now brace.” Lightning-quick, he lashes out, striking the center of the pad with a clenched fist.
The blow rocks me back on my heels, and I stagger to stay upright.
“Good.” Flexing his shoulder, he lands another strike over the mat.
Another. Each hit rattles me to my core, and I dig my toes into the floor to find enough leverage to keep standing. Not that he seems to care. His focus is turned inward as his breaths quicken and deepen. This is calming to him.
Movement and violence.
Talking about it, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be on his mind.
“Who… Who are you?” I choke out in between hits.
“Chin up.”
He lashes out before I can react, cupping my jaw himself. His warmth is such a contrast to the chill in the room. I flinch, and in response, his fingertips press tighter, forcing me to meet his gaze.
Andthose eyes.They blaze, boring directly into mine.
“Nothing else matters but anticipating my movements,” he insists through gritted teeth. “Remember that. Now block!”
“Wait!” I barely manage to get the pad up in time. The blow still knocks the wind out of me, and I hunch over, gasping for air.
“Is this...how...you treat everyone?” I wonder in between pants. “By beating them senseless minutes after first meeting?”
He laughs, but the sound resembles a sigh more than anything. “Sweetheart, did anyone ever tell you that you don’t know how to shut the fuck up?”
My face heats. Ironically, no one has ever told me I talk too much. If anything, it’s been the opposite. Hale, for one, hated that I was too silent. Too meek. Too afraid. I never defended him.
“No,” I admit softly. “What about you?”
“Easy, tiger.” He laughs again while pivoting to the left. “We’re not here to talk. Rather than bore me to death. Show me what you’ve got. I’m sure you must have some anger stored somewhere in that body of yours. Let’s go—” he snatches the mat and holds it up before his chest. Then, with a come-hither wave, he beckons me closer. “Hit me!”
The movement exposes his chest to me completely, and my throat goes dry. My view distorts until his tattoo is all I see.
A skull with angel wings.
Just like the one Hale drew.
FOUR
He snapshis fingers as I freeze. “Hey! Earth to Blondie.”
From this angle, the tattoo glistens beneath a sheen of sweat, and I have no idea how I missed it before.
