Savage Desires (Black Rose Doms Book 3)

Chapter 20

Kisten spendsover an hour teaching me everything about the guns he brought. I thought I would be more intimidated by them, but apparently, running for my life through the woods and shooting a man rid me of any of that. It”s a good thing because Kisten is determined that I am comfortable handling every possible style of firearm I come across.

I asked why he was teaching me so much when I only needed to know how to point and shoot. He told me I needed to be prepared. I laughed and asked if he was preparing me for war. He looked at me with a straight, serious face and said, ”Absolutely,” then continued teaching me.

I was beyond excited to shoot when he finally finished that part of my lesson.

I”m practically vibrating with excitement when he hands me my safety glasses and earmuffs. He moves the first gun and the ammo that goes with it to the table at the head of one of the lanes. There”s a paper with the silhouette of a man that seems way too far away. Surely, that”s like sharpshooter distance…

Kisten pushes a button on the table, and the paper man moves forward until it”s more like ten yards away instead of twenty-five. I feel better about my likelihood of hitting the paper with it closer. I”m not an idiot; the fact that I actually shot the man in that chest was a freaking miracle. I don”t know if I could”ve done it twice, so I”m darn glad I didn”t have to test that.

”Okay, beauty, time to shoot.”

I”m not really sure how I”m supposed to stand. He showed me how to hold the various guns but not how I should stand and position my body. I carefully pick up the gun, making sure to keep my finger away from the trigger. I try to mimic what I”ve seen in movies; I stand with my feet shoulder-width apart and hold the gun out in front of me.

Kisten moves in behind me and grips my hips. ”Bend your knees a little. You don”t want to be too stiff.” I do as he instructs. ”Good. Now, raise your arms and aim at the target. Keep both eyes open. Line up the sights until you see where you want your bullet to go. Aim for the chest. It”s the biggest target; even if it”s not fatal, it will drastically slow someone down. When you”re ready, lightly squeeze the trigger.”

I don”t like the idea of only slowing someone down. Slowing them down just means they still have time to come after me or someone else. No, I want to shoot to kill every time. I aim my sights and squeeze the trigger. Even with the earmuffs, the bang is loud enough to startle me. When Kisten told me about recoil, I was a little worried because my arm strength sucks compared to what it used to be, but I had no trouble handling the slight kickback.

I don”t even look at the target to see if I hit it because of Kisten”s cursing, and I”m worried I did something wrong. I set the gun down and look at him. ”Did I do it wrong? Am I lost cause?”

He shakes his head, rubbing his palm down his face. ”What were you aiming at, beauty?”

”Um… his head?” I reply, but it sounds more like a question.

”Why not his chest like I instructed?”

”Well, if you”re preparing me for war, I need to make sure every shot is as lethal as possible. Headshots are the most expedient way to kill someone.”

I can”t read his expression.

”Are you mad?” I ask quietly.

He laughs. ”Fuck no.” He pushes the button, bringing the paper target towards us. There is a perfect hole smack dab in the middle of its forehead. ”I needed to know where you were aiming because if you were going for his chest, you were way off the mark.”

He pulls the paper off the holder and hands it to me. ”Think we should keep this. Now, let”s see if that was beginners” luck or if you”re a fucking natural.”

He puts another target up and sends it back to where the first one was. I correct my stance and lift the gun. I line up the sights again and squeeze the trigger. The bang doesn”t startle me so much this time. I look at the target and see another perfect headshot.

“Again,” Kisten orders.

I shoot again and again until it clicks empty. Kisten brings the second paper forward, and the top part of the head is completely gone. I bite my lip, waiting for his reaction. I”m excited that I just shot a gun for the second time in my life and didn”t miss once, but he”s quiet, and I”m getting nervous.

”Interesting.” Is all he says, making me even more nervous.

”What? I did good, right?”

”It”s impressive, beauty. Are you sure you”ve never shot before?”

”Never…”

”We”re going to change it up. I want you to cycle through the other nine millimeters and the revolver.”

”Okay,” I agree. I”m excited to see if my good aim is just a fluke or something else.

I get the guns lined up in front of me while he messes with one of the target papers. He sends the target back down the lane further away this time, so it”s maybe fifteen yards away. That”s not the only change. Instead of just having the silhouette of a man, several circles are drawn on the paper over the groin, heart, throat, and forehead, and two circles that are barely more than dots on either side of the head.

Obviously, Kisten isn”t going to chance that I”m just having beginner”s luck. He wants to make sure I”m actually a freaky good natural. I really hope I”m a natural. It would be so amazing to know that I”m not going to be a liability on Saturday. If I can shoot accurately, I can keep myself safe and protect others.

Fingers crossed.

I pick up the next gun, click off the safety, and aim.

Here goes nothing.

This gun has more recoil and throws me off my second shot, making me frown. I still hit the circle I aimed at, but not dead center. It”s at least an inch to the left. Disappointing. I”m able to compensate for the third shot. I hit the groin, and then throat perfectly. I pause, looking at the small circles. There”s no room for error… there”s a malevolent voice whispering to me that it”s impossible and I”ll never hit it. I internally scream at that negative voice.

Fuck that.

I will not succumb to that voice. I”ve danced with it off and on for years. It”s easy to listen and internalize the negativity, but my dad didn”t raise me to give in to bullies, even if that bully is my own mind.

I take a breath, pull the trigger… once… twice…

I let out a squeal and bounce on my toes. ”I did it!”

”You did great,” he says with a proud smile.

Kisten takes the gun from my hand and sets it down, then pulls me in for a deep kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him feverishly. He grips my hair in one hand and my ass in the other, holding me right where he wants me. My pussy is soaked in no time. How does this man get me hot so fast? It doesn”t seem possible.

He pulls away with a groan. ”If there weren”t cameras all over this place, I would bend you over and fuck you right here. Maybe see how well your aim is while I”m balls deep fucking your tight pussy.”

My pussy clenches at the picture he”s painting for me. It”s insane, yet I want to do it. I”m sure I wouldn”t hit a damn thing, but feeling the power of holding a deadly weapon in my hand while Kisten fucks me into oblivion sounds like a lot of fun.

”You”d like that, wouldn”t you, beauty?”

I lick my lips and nod.

”Another time. You have more toys to play with.”

I pout. ”I”d rather play with something else.”

”I”ll make it worth the wait, love.”

He puts up another target, and I pick up a different gun. Thirty minutes later, I”ve made my way through eight different handguns. I set down the revolver with a frown.

”I don”t like that one.”

”Not one I”d want you to carry, but good to know how to use and load because some dumbasses think they look badass, so they carry them even if they aren”t practical in the least.”

”So it”s like the dudes who drive huge trucks to compensate for small dicks, only with guns?”

Kisten laughs. ”Pretty much. Which of those did you prefer?”

”The Glock 43X was my favorite. It fits nicely in my hand and has minimal recoil. I was most accurate with it, too.”

”Love, you were accurate with all of them.”

I roll my eyes. ”I wasn”t dead center with all of them. Especially the revolver…”

”You do realize you were hitting targets the size of a quarter from twenty yards away… being half an inch to the left or right of dead center is still within accuracy.”

I shrug. ”I”m a perfectionist. No sense in doing something if you aren”t going to do it well.”

”Let”s pack these up and move on to shotguns and rifles.”

Kisten leads me to a different lane twice as long as the first one. He hands me a shotgun that feels unwieldy in my hands. He corrects my stance and tells me to bring the stock to my cheek and then move it to my shoulder. I follow his instructions carefully. I take several deep breaths before I pull the trigger. The bang is loud with the earmuffs; I can”t imagine how loud it would be without them.

Once again, my aim was true. I listened when Kisten advised me to go for center mass with a shotgun, and there”s an impressive hole in the paper right in the middle of the chest. I shoot the shotgun a couple more times. He has me switch to different shells, trying out slugs, buckshot, and birdshot. I admit the buckshot and birdshot are kind of fun. Seeing the spray of pellets is satisfying. I can see why people like them, but it”s definitely not my gun of choice. We move on to the rifles, and I”m just as lucky with my aim on those. The AK-47 is loud and intimidating-looking but really fun to shoot. I decide that I need to have one.

We”re putting everything away and chatting about which firearms I prefer and the ones I don”t like when T.J. comes in with a confused expression, maybe even a little angry.

”I thought you said she”d never shot before,” he barks accusingly.

”She hadn”t. Other than killing a security guard the night she escaped, she”d never even held a gun,” Kisten says.

”Bullshit. There”s no way. I watched her hit every fucking target every time. She didn”t miss even with the rifles.”

I clench my hands in front of me and look down. T.J. is agitated and yelling. Logically, I know he”s not yelling at me, and he”s not going to get violent, but his body language and tone send me into survival mode.

Be small and quiet. Don”t look up. Don”t draw attention. I”m stuck in a loop of all the times other men yelled before using their fists or worse. The room disappears, and I”m back in my safe place inside my head. I can”t be hurt here. I can be aware of my body and go through the motions, but nothing can touch the real me. I”m locked away safe.

I”m jerked out of my mind when strong arms wrap around me from behind. Even though I know I”ll be sorry afterward, I react instinctually instead of complying. I throw back my elbow and stomp on my attacker”s foot. He lets out a curse, and I throw my head back for a headbutt that my attacker dodges even though he”s still holding me. I scream and thrash in his arms, but he doesn”t release me.

In fact, he”s holding me tighter than I”ve ever been held before… except for one other time… Kisten. He held me like this. Not to hurt me but to protect me from hurting myself as I lashed out. Slowly, awareness trickles back. I can barely make out his soothing voice over the sound of my heart beating frantically in my ears.

”Shh. It”s okay, beauty. You”re safe. I”ve got you, Willow…”

He repeats the same phrases over and over. Each word tugs at me to get out of the trauma loop I”m trapped in. I focus on Kisten”s voice and matching my erratic breaths to his steady ones. It feels like hours pass before the panic recedes completely. I”m limp in Kisten”s arms. If he were to let go, I would fall to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.

”Are you back with me, love?” Kisten asks softly.

”Yes,” I croak. My throat is sore as if I”ve been screaming.

He switches his hold, somehow picking me up bridal style without letting go. He carries me to one of the chairs and sits with me curled on his lap. He holds me close, his warm palm rubbing my back.

”I”m sorry. I don”t know what happened…” I whisper, feeling ashamed.

”You don”t have to apologize, love. T.J. was yelling and scared you. It happens.”

”Did I hurt you?”

He chuckles warmly. ”No, love. Knocked the wind out of me with that pointy elbow of yours, and my toes might be a little bruised, but that”s it. I”m not an easy man to hurt.”

I bury my face in his shoulder, embarrassed and heartbroken that I lashed out at Kisten. I hate that I hurt him even if he”s okay.

There”s a shuffling noise to my left, and I look over to see T.J. leaning against the wall, watching me sadly. The cocky man I met earlier is gone. There”s no teasing smile, and his blue eyes that had a glint of humor in them are remorseful. He triggered my episode with his aggression, but it”s not his fault.

”I”m sorry I scared you, Willow. I wasn”t thinking…” T.J. says.

”It”s not your fault. You didn”t know I would react like that. Hell, I didn”t even know I would react that way.”

Kisten kisses my temple. ”It”s not unusual for people with your history.”

I sigh deeply. ”I don”t want to fall apart whenever a man raises his voice.”

”It”ll get better. You”ve been through hell, and you”ve only had a few days to process. You”re bound to have a few triggers pop up. We”ll work through them,” Kisten says encouragingly.

”What if I get triggered and panic on Saturday?” I ask, voicing my newest fear.

”You won”t,” Kisten says with complete confidence.

”How do you know?”

”I watched you that night at the mansion. You were calm and did what needed doing, no matter how scared you were. Even though Lexis led you through the woods, you were the leader. You were the one they followed even while you were behind them, watching their backs.”

”Pretty sure that was just survival instinct or that I had already accepted I was going to die that night, so fighting back didn”t scare me. It was death either way,” I admit.

”You”re right. There”s no way you could ever stand up to the people who held you captive. You should just stay home and let us deal with it,” Kisten says.

It takes a second for me to comprehend his words and half a second to get more pissed off than I”ve ever been. How dare he?! I jump up from his lap and level him with a glare.

”Screw you! I”m going, and I”m going to make those fuckers bleed,” I yell.

He shrugs. ”You”re obviously fragile. It wouldn”t be safe having such a liability there.”

”I”m not fragile! I”m strong. I”ve survived shit that would make you curl up in a ball and cry, and I”m still fucking standing. They didn”t break me even though they tried. I”m going on Saturday, and there”s nothing you can do about it!”

I”m panting by the time I”m done screaming at Kisten, who is smirking at me. I”m so mad I want to punch him in his handsome face. He”s such a jerk! Why would he teach me to shoot and offer to train with me if he didn”t think I could handle myself on Saturday? It takes a second for logic to catch up with me. He only said that to prove his point. He does believe in me, and deep down, I know it.

”That was mean,” I huff.

He chuckles. ”You needed a reminder. You”re a survivor. A warrior. There”s nothing that you can”t do. You will exact your revenge on Saturday, and it will be a beautiful sight to behold. My avenging angel.”

”Damn straight I am. Those assholes won”t know what hit them.”

Kisten tugs me back onto his lap. ”That”s my good girl,” he murmurs in my ear before crushing his lips to mine for a deep kiss.

T.J. clears his throat, reminding us that he”s still here. ”Do you need the range tomorrow as planned, or is Little Miss Sharpshooter prepped enough?”

Kisten looks at the pile of paper targets and smiles. ”She”s good with stationary targets, but if the obstacle course is available, that would be great practice. I need to get her set up with holsters and two Glock 43Xs. Need the holsters to have extra mag slots, too.”

A little thrill of excitement goes through me when I think about how powerful I felt shooting today. I love the challenge of it. I really love the fact that I”m good at it. Hitting the targets is easy when I imagine how it will feel to use one of the bastards at Mecca as target practice.

”I”ll have to special order the holsters; she”s a lot smaller than my regular customers,” T.J. says, sounding amused.

”We can”t all be overgrown men,” I bite back.

He chuckles. ”Touché.”

”I”ll have everything for Saturday ready in the warehouse armory for you to check Friday. If you think of anything else you need, let me know.”

”Thanks, man,” Kisten says. They do that macho handshake/bro hug thing men do, and then T.J. leaves us to finish packing up.