Chapter Eleven
AURELIA
Khalil and I go to the lake a short hike away.
I eye the punching bag that’s hanging from a low-hanging branch on the shore. Khalil drops his much larger pack before helping me out of mine and dropping it next to his.
“So, what are we doing here?” It obviously isn’t to swim because we aren’t wearing swimsuits. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for him to answer by attacking me.
Khalil tackles me from behind, and all the breath is knocked out of my lungs when I hit the ground. I only manage to flip onto my back before he seizes my wrists and pins them to the ground. I feel like it’s exactly what he predicted I’d do.
“What the—what the hell are you doing? Get off me!”
“You want me off you? Move me.”
I twist and shove and grunt to no avail. “I can’t,” I say when I’m out of breath and feeling weak. “You’re too heavy.”
“My weight has nothing to do with it. You’re panicking. Focus.”
“Okay, then. I’m not strong enough.”
“Maybe. But your weakness isn’t coming from your body,” he says. “It’s coming from here.” He taps the side of my head. “You’ve already decided you’ve lost the fight without even trying.”
“Okay, so tell me what I should have done and make it quick. It feels like a planet landed on me,” I squeeze out. The bastard sits up until he’s straddling me, and I realize he’s much heavier than I thought. “Oh, God,” I groan. “I can’t breathe.”
“Good. That should motivate you to listen, focus, and react quickly. Use your left leg to trap mine but make sure to keep your feet planted.” Willing to do anything to get him off me quickly, I do what he says, hooking my ankle tightly around his to trap his right leg.
Khalil demonstrates that he can’t reposition himself now and my interest is immediately piqued.
“Good girl. Now drive your hips forward like you’re trying to throw me off.
” Khalil moves like he’s about to grab my wrists again, and panic strikes a sharp chord within me.
Instead of it freezing me in place this time, I buck my hips as hard as I can, and Khalil pitches forward, losing his balance.
He’s still on top of me though, but I can breathe now and my heart is pumping wildly for a different reason.
“Perfect,” he praises, and I immediately want more.
“Now grab my right arm with your left hand. Always do this immediately after throwing your opponent off balance.” I’m hanging onto his every word now, so I hook my elbow around his from the outside, and Khalil looks pleased but not all that surprised at my sudden eagerness.
It’s like he knew this was exactly what I needed.
“That’s it, Goldilocks. Very good.” I’m preening from his praise and almost miss the move when he says, “Now you can use your right hand to go for the eyes or use your forearm to strike the face, throat, or chest. You want to get me off you, so we’ll do the forearm strike.
Use your arm, hip, and foot—essentially the entire right side of your body—to knock me off and gain the upper hand. Do it now.”
It takes me three attempts to knock Khalil over.
My foot slips the first time, so I don’t have the traction to toss him off.
The second time, I forget to use my hips, using only two-thirds of my power, which allowed Khalil to stay exactly where he was.
It is my third attempt that lands Khalil flat on his back and me on top of him with my forearm to his throat, keeping him down.
“I did it!” I shrieked while grinning.
“Very good, Goldilocks, but there’s another lesson you should know.”
My frown snaps into place. “What?”
Khalil reaches up and yanks on my ponytail viciously enough to shock me into releasing him.
I fall to the side to loosen his hold, and he lets me go and stands while I sit on my ass and rub my now sore scalp with a grimace.
“Never drop your guard,” he scolds. “You may have briefly gained the upper hand, but all you’ve done is make your enemy desperate.
The fight isn’t over until your opponent is truly incapacitated. Never. Stop. Attacking.”
I sigh and shake off my frustration, knowing he’s right. “Understood. What else?”
Khalil’s pride is palpable as he wordlessly holds out his hand.
His teachings are already sinking into my core though, so I hesitate, wondering if it might be another trap.
“For the moment I’m just your man,” he assures me.
“This isn’t a test.” I take Khalil’s hand, and he squeezes mine in a wordless apology for the hair pull before he hauls me to my feet.
“Follow me.”
I trail Khalil over to the tree, and he instructs me to put my back to the trunk.
“Earlier, I had you pinned like this,” he reminds me and then demonstrates by grabbing my throat and trapping me against the rough bark of the tree. “You didn’t even try to break my hold. Why?”
“Because even though you’re lucky to have me—the Aurelia George—as your girlfriend, none of you ungrateful assholes have thanked me yet by buying me jewelry. I’ve had to settle for the occasional hand necklace.”
Khalil’s mouth twitches and his brown eyes glow with amusement. “It’s amazing how your sheer lack of humility still surprises me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Khalil shakes his head, but then his humor is gone in a flash and he’s wearing a stern “coach” expression again. “Why, Aurelia?”
“Um…I didn’t know how?” That should be obvious, so why was he pushing?
“You also didn’t try,” Khalil scolds, “so you’re going to now. How would you do it?”
I start to roll my eyes when Khalil’s brows pull down in warning, and I gulp. I grab his wrist and tug with all my might, but he just stares at me. I claw at his arms, hoping the pain will make him release me, but he yawns like I’ve bored him. I try to knee him next, and he just sighs.
“Commendable effort but no.”
“So what then?”
“Your hands are free, but you haven’t even tried to hurt me yet.”
“What do you mean? I scratched you.” I indicate his arms where we both can see the long, jagged lines now. Some of them are even bleeding.
Khalil gives me a look as if to say, get serious. “You’ve clawed me harder than that when I’m deep inside you, Goldilocks. I mean real pain.”
“You want me to hurt you,” I say just to make sure we’re on the same page.
“Yes.”
Remembering how he pulled my hair and his disappointment that I wasn’t more aggressive in defending myself, I don’t hesitate before I curl my fingers.
My fist collides with his mouth, and the blow snaps his head to the side.
His hand is still around my throat, but I notice his grip has loosened, so before he can recover, I punch him again and slap his hand off my neck at the same time.
Khalil actually stumbles away, but I don’t fall for it this time. I keep my guard up, and when he recovers, he flashes me a red smile before turning his head and spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth and staining his teeth.
“You know how to punch and you’re mean with it,” he remarks rhetorically. “Good. That’s good. It’s a decent foundation to start with.” Khalil walks over to his pack and tugs out two sets of boxing gloves. “Put these on,” he orders after tossing a pair to me.
“What is this about?” I finally ask as I do what he says.
“It’s about the fact that your uncle is trying to kill you and you don’t have the first clue how to defend yourself. You got lucky the first time because we were there.”
I pause. “You think he’ll try again?”
“Most definitely. You need to be ready for it.”
“But I have three big, strong, murderous boyfriends who apparently live to die for me.” It sounds so ridiculous, but it’s practically their motto.
“Boyfriends you refuse to listen to,” Khalil retorts. “What happens if we’re not there next time?”
“Hey, I listen,” I argue. Under my breath, I grumble, “When I want to.”
Hearing every word, Khalil tosses me an impatient look before snapping a mouth guard over his teeth. He has a new set for me, and I open my mouth to let him slip the guard in since I already have my boxing gloves on.
“Now what?”
“Now we work on your stamina,” he says as he slips his gloves on. “When your enemy is bigger and stronger than you, exhausting them before they can finish their assault is the best tool in your arsenal. That means you need to be faster, and you need to build up your endurance.”
“So what are the gloves for? Don’t you want me to run laps around the lake or something?”
Khalil’s smile is sharp as he regards me. “That will come later. First, I want to assess where you are. You’re a stage performer and, from what I’ve heard, a really good one. I imagine it takes a lot of breath control to dance and sing at the same time.”
“Sure, but I’m out of practice. I haven’t toured in a couple of years and I was supposed to start rehearsals this summer for my upcoming tour, but I was in a plane crash and I’ve been held captive by three sex-starved mountain men for months so…
” Khalil just stares at me. “All right. Fine.” I throw up my hands. “So how do we do this?”
“I’m going to attack you, putting you on the defense. I want you to do your best to either evade me or free yourself from my hold using one of maneuvers I showed you. We’re going to do this until you either knock me out or I can’t continue.”
“But that’s impossible. You’re in amazing shape. If this were a video game, you’d be this huge, scary boss, and your health bar would be a mile long.”
Khalil looks surprised for a moment. “You play video games?”
“No, but I’ve seen videos of people playing online. It’s fun to watch grown men cry when they lose to a computer.”
Khalil chuckles. “All right. I guess that leaves option two.”
“You really want me to knock you out?”
I’m rewarded with a lopsided smile that’s equally boyish and cocky. It’s infuriating that he just knows the chances are slim that I will. “If you can.”
I totally can’t, but even if I could…