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“I’m not a fighter,” I said softly. “The damned female fae and their ceremony proved that. I’m just… when shit hits the fan, I go silent. I shut down.”
“And that’s what the training is for. It prepares your mind, as well as your body.” He tapped my temple, and then my collarbone.
“It never looked like it took a whole lot of thinking when the seelies fought,” I countered.
“The seelies see themselves as little more than wild animals when it comes to a fight. They rely on instinct. Those of us who fight with our minds succeed more consistently than those who lean on brute force.”
Huh.
I guess he had a point with that.
Though brute force did seem to succeed a good portion of the time, too.
“Fine. You can teach me.” I heaved a sigh. “But if I shut down, you can’t freak out at me. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll snap out of it eventually.”
“We’ll start with a punch.” He lifted my hand, forming it into a fist for me. “Like this.” He guided my arm through the motion. “The power comes from here, not here.” He patted my abdomen, and then my arm.
I’d heard similar things in movies and books, so I didn’t doubt him. Not that I had any reason to, anyway.
We went through the motions, and with him standing behind me or to the side of me while I moved my body and received his critiques, it didn’t trigger me at all.
But when he stood in front of me with pads over his hands, thin ones that he’d created quickly with his magic, my stomach clenched.
“Now, you’ll follow my instructions as we go through the kicks and punches,” he said. “I need to see how you move before we keep going.”
I swallowed my fear and nodded.
But the moment my fist started swinging, my brain stopped.
I didn’t even feel it connect.
My thoughts shut down.
My breathing slowed.
A pair of green eyes filled my vision, and a pair of soft hands cupped my face.
Remmo.
“I’m right here,” he told me.
I heard it, but I felt nothing.
“I need to take a shower,” I said, fighting the panic. Trying to ignore the way my chest was caving in, the way my body had numbed itself to the potential pain it saw in my future.
Arguing—fighting—standing up for myself in any way?
It always led to pain.
Which was why I relied on jokes. On sarcasm. It distanced me from anyone who might want to hurt me.
Confrontation was… not my friend.
Hell, it was my weakness.
One of so damn many.
“Iloli,” Remmo said, but I didn’t see him. I might as well have been looking straight through the massive, gorgeous man. “Sunny. Summer.”
