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The mats beneath our feet provided a cushioning that would make this process a bit more forgiving, especially when we progressed into harder movements.
“Alright, Lexie,” I began, my voice calm but firm, “let’s start with the basics. The first thing you need to understand is awareness. Always be aware of your surroundings. Look for escape routes and potential obstacles wherever you are. Use everything around you to your advantage. Aric will undoubtedly underestimate you, and you are going to need to use that.”
Lexie nodded, her attention fully riveted on me.
Fuck.I wanted to see that same look on her when I put her down on her knees. I cleared my throat, remembering myself.
“Good,” I continued. “Now, let’s talk about posture. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Keep your weight centered and your hands up to protect your face.”
She mirrored my stance, her movements slightly hesitant, but showing she was eager to learn.
“Perfect,” I praised. “Now, let’s practice the jab. It’s a quick, straight punch with your lead hand, like this.” I demonstrated the movement, my fist shooting out and then retracting swiftly. “Try it.”
Lexie hesitated for a moment but then threw a jab, her fist extending forward.
“Great,” I said with encouragement. “Now, the cross. Pivot your back foot, rotate your hips and shoulders, and punch with your rear hand. This one packs much more power.”
Again, I showed her the movement, and she followed suit, her cross a bit unsteady but improving. We spent time perfecting these fundamental punches, working on hooks, uppercuts, and combinations. When I was satisfied, I moved on to the next series of drills I wanted to teach her.
“Now, let’s move to defense,” I said. “Imagine Aric’s coming at you. Your first line of defense is to block or parry his attacks.”
I demonstrated blocking, showing her how to use her forearms to shield against strikes. Lexie practiced these movements as I came at her, her motions gradually becoming smoother and more controlled as time went on.
“Remember,” I emphasized, “your goal is not to engage in a prolonged fight but to create an opportunity to escape. That’s all I need you to do. Use your environment to your advantage.”
We continued to practice, with Lexie growing more confident with each passing minute. I couldn’t help but admire the long, lean form of her body with her every move. Sweat glistened around the edges of her brow, and when a single droplet rolled down the side of her face, I had to stop myself from pulling her close and licking it off with the tip my tongue.
When we finally wrapped up the session, I could see the fatigue in Lexie’s eyes, but there was also a sense of accomplishment.
“Great job, little one,” I purred, genuinely proud of her progress.
“I had a good teacher,” she said with a nod, a smile of satisfaction spreading across her features. Just then, her stomach growled loudly, and her cheeks flushed a beautiful bright pink at the sound. Her hands moved to cover her belly, and she glanced down at the floor with her embarrassment.
“Sounds like someone’s hungry,” I said with a soft chuckle.
“Guess it’s been a while since lunch,” she giggled, a faint blush still coloring her cheeks. I decided it was the perfect moment to surprise her with a romantic meal.
“How about I cook you something special?” I offered, watching as her gorgeous features twisted with a sense of stunned curiosity. We’d ordered take-out the last couple of days, so I understood her surprise.
“I didn’t know you knew how to cook. What are you going to make?” she asked, her face lighting up with excitement.
“How about a creamy chicken alfredo with garlic bread and a nice bottle of wine to go with it?” I suggested.
“That sounds incredible. I’d love that,” she replied.
I took her hand in mine and guided her upstairs to the kitchen. She took a seat at the large marble island, and I set to work, the rhythmic clinking of pots and pans filling the air as I chopped vegetables and sautéed garlic. The aroma of baking chicken and buttery garlic filled the room, creating an ambiance that was both cozy and intimate.
When it was ready, we sat at the dining table, soft candlelight casting a warm glow over the room. I poured us each a glass of wine and took a sip of the rich, full-bodied red.
We enjoyed our meal in companionable silence for a while, savoring the flavors and the simple joy of being together. As the evening wore on, Lexie leaned back in her chair, her expression one of contentment as she chewed another bite of her dinner and sipped her wine.
“There are many ancient myths and legends that have been passed down through generations about me. Some of them are true, while others are not,” I began, deciding it was the right moment to share something personal, something that had shaped my life in more ways than one.
“Tell me more,” she looked intrigued, setting down her fork.
I took a sip of wine, enjoying the glint of curiosity in her eyes.
“One of the most enduring legends is the idea that a werewolf can communicate with wolves. Not just during a transformation, but even in human form. The truth is, Idohave a unique connection to them.”
