Chapter Seven #2
Oh, Jesus Christ, hadn’t this man ever seen a horror movie before? You never say “I’ll be right back” and then walk into the woods alone.
He shut the door behind him, and I ran to the kitchen window.
I held my breath as he came around the corner, the machete raised in front of him.
He looked like a damn modern-day Viking the way his body moved through the deep snow like he belonged out there in the wild.
It was like he was walking through a meadow and not piles of snow.
As if sensing me in the window, he glanced over his shoulder, our eyes meeting. There was something in the look he gave me, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. It was probably “this idiot has me out here in the snow while she’s warm in my cabin.”
He trudged on, making his way to the tree line in a matter of minutes. I scanned the area, but there was nothing there. At least not anymore. After a moment, he disappeared from my view, and my heart beat wildly in my chest.
Five minutes turned into ten. Then fifteen. And by twenty minutes, I thought I was going to have a full-blown meltdown.
What if he didn’t come back? What if Cyrus was really out there and had killed him? What if Valen was bleeding to death out there and I was hiding inside like a coward instead of helping him, like I should have helped my friends?
Courtney’s screams echoed through my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut, counting to twenty slowly.
The urge to run and hide under his bed was high, but I wouldn’t—no, couldn’t—do that. Not again. This time I would fight, no matter what. As quickly as I could, I put on my boots, jacket and hat, and gripped the knife so hard my nails stabbed my palms even through the gloves.
“I am a fierce warrior.” I repeated the mantra over and over.
Knife raised, I threw open the front door, ready to do whatever I had to do.
Which was apparently to scream my ass off at the figure that stood on the porch. My hand moved on its own, my instincts telling me to stab first, ask questions later.
But before I could hit anything, the knife was knocked from my hand and Valen had me wrapped in his arms.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You could have stabbed me,” he growled against my ear.
“You’re back,” I panted. “Oh, good.” My heart was beating a mile a minute from all the adrenaline.
I pulled back to look at him, noting the exasperated look on his face.
“Sorry.” I scrunched up my nose. “You were gone for so long. I was coming to save you.” I gestured toward the discarded knife on the porch.
“Coming to save me?” He said the words slowly, as if he couldn’t believe them.
“Obviously.” The laugh that slipped out sounded more like a dying hyena than the confident chuckle I’d been going for.
“Jesus Christ.” He shook his head and turned me around. “Get inside.”
I did what he said, not because he was in charge of me, but mostly to try to get a head start in case I needed to run from him.
He shook the snow from his hair. Once inside, he stripped off his jacket and boots, and I did the same.
“There was no one out there. No fresh prints or trails. It’s just us.” He held his hands in front of the fire, glancing over his shoulder at me.
“Oh, great. So I’m probably just going insane.” I laughed. I could have sworn I’d seen something. Damn, was I really losing it?
“Could have been a hawk or a squirrel. Could have cast a shadow.” His eyes tracked me as I went to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee, adding some sugar to mine and leaving his black.
I handed him the cup, my hands still shaking, not sure if it was from the cold or the fear of everything that had transpired over the last hour.
He watched me closely as I sat at the table, and I hated that it seemed like he saw everything. Like he knew I was terrified and had to cope with everything with humor instead of being normal. After a few minutes of silence, he stood and set down his coffee on the table, leaning over me.
“After breakfast, we’re going to fight.”
I tilted my head up, meeting his dark gaze. “Fight? Like you’re going to beat me up? Because I should warn you, I’m an expert at flailing around, so you’re bound to get hurt.”
His mouth twitched with something like amusement. “No, little lamb. I’m going to teach you self-defense. Look at you, you’re trembling.” His gaze dropped to where I was gripping the coffee mug like a life preserver.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him it was because he was towering over me like an almighty god, and not because of fear, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I’m not trembling,” I scoffed, even as my shaky hands set my cup down.
“What’s going to happen if Cyrus gets to you and I’m not there? What if your gun jams? You need to be prepared.”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “But food first. I’d like a full belly before I embarrass you.”
*** ***
Valen hadn’t been kidding about the whole “teaching me to fight” thing. Two hours later, after he checked my stitches and moved all the furniture against the walls like we were about to film a movie—and not the juicy kind—I stood in the middle of the empty living room.
“What exactly am I supposed to do with this?” I held up the wooden knife he’d pressed into my hand, testing out the weight of it. Even though it was small, it was still heavy.
“We’re going to practice with this so you don’t hurt yourself.” He stood in front of me, rolling up his sleeves. I narrowed my eyes, and he added, “Or hurt me.”
“Where did you even find this?” I held the knife close to my face, noticing the distinct details.
“I made it for you.” He stepped closer and my hand tightened around the wood. “You need to overcome your fear of knives. This is how you start.”
“Oh,” I murmured. Well, that was… nice of him. He patted my hand.
“Now stop stalling, and let’s begin.”
After a few minutes of him directing me on how to hold the knife, he let out a frustrated sigh and stood behind me, his chest pressed to my back. He was so warm, and I couldn’t help but feel like this was a natural position to be in.
“Your grip is all wrong.” His voice was low as I held the wooden knife. “It’s not a pencil, it’s a weapon.” His hands covered mine, adjusting my fingers one by one until he was satisfied with my grip. “Firm, Seraphine. Like this.”
My face heated at his breath against my ear. I tried focusing all my energy on what he was trying to demonstrate, and not the feeling of him glued to me.
“Better,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across my knuckles.
I shivered at the sensation, which only made him press himself harder against me. “Your stance is still wrong though.” His boot nudged my feet apart until my legs were positioned how he wanted them. “There, just like that.”
The tone of his voice and the pressure of him against me was having my mind running rampant. This was supposed to be about survival, not whatever twisted perversion I was turning it into.
“Now, try again.” While his hand still covered mine, he guided me through the movements, slow and controlled. “You feel how your body moves with it?”
Yeah, pal. I was feeling a whole lot of things I had no business feeling.
Oh, God, did I have Stockholm syndrome? Well, a version of it, since I wasn’t exactly being held captive any longer. That must have been it.
After a few tries, I was finally able to handle the knife on my own. I hated to admit it, but it felt pretty good having this amount of control. Valen was a good teacher, although the realization that he’d probably learned some of these moves in prison was sobering.
“Now, attack me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I can’t… I’m not going to do that,” I scoffed.
“Attack. Me.”
I sighed and gripped the wooden knife tighter.
Just remember what he showed you.
Go for the side of the neck, or the heart.
You’ve got this.
The second I lunged forward, I realized I, in fact, did not have it.
I aimed for his chest like he’d shown me, but before I could even blink, he’d twisted my arm, the knife dropping to the floor with a thud.
My back slammed against his chest, one of his arms locking around my waist, the other around my throat.
He wasn’t cutting my air off; he was just making a point that I was at his mercy.
“I saw that coming a mile away,” he growled against my ear. “In real life, you’d be dead.”
I should have been terrified at his words, at his strength, but God help me, my body was a traitorous jezebel.
He let me go, twirling me around until I was facing him. “Again. Don’t think too hard. Just react.”
I tried again, over and over. I went low, sideways, each time getting the same result. Me pinned against him. The last time he had me pinned against the wall, both of my wrists captured in one of his hands above my head, within seconds.
“Better.” His face was inches from mine. “Now what?”
“Knee to groin, stomp on foot, or a head butt if I’m in the mood to give myself a concussion.” I listed off all the key moves he’d shown me. “And if my hands are free, palm strike to his nose or an eye poke.”
“Good girl.” He released me and stepped back. “Now let’s try some floor movements. Get on your back.” He nodded to the rug in front of the fireplace.
Someone really needed to tell him not to use the words “good girl” and “on your back” in the same sentence.
“You know, you’re pretty bossy for someone who’s supposed to be teaching me how to kill someone.” I planted my hands on my hips, glaring at him. I wasn’t annoyed with him, but I had to do something to distract myself from all of the touching and the feelings that came along with it.
“I’m not teaching you how to kill someone, little lamb.” He stepped closer, towering over me in his typical godlike fashion. “I’m teaching you how to escape, not defeat.”
I sighed, my body screaming at me to stop all this nonsense, grab the gun, and wait in a dark room for Cyrus to show up. Reluctantly, I lay down, staring up at Valen as he stood over me.
The last time I was in this position, a monster was trying to slit my throat. But for some reason, the dread I should have felt never came.
“If you end up on your back, you’re in trouble.” Before I could even register his words, he was straddling my hips, his hands planted on each side of my head.
My breath caught as he loomed. Out of all the positions he’d put me in, this one was the worst. His scent surrounded me, his entire body burning against mine. I knew all the thoughts I was having were wrong. Everything about this situation was wrong. But on some twisted level, it felt right.
“If he gets you to the floor, you have seconds before things get worse.” His voice was rough, low, and had an edge to it. “Show me how you’d get free.”
Get free? Sir, there was only one place I cared to be at the moment, and it wasn’t free.
Focus!
I tried pushing against his chest, but it was useless. He was a wall of solid muscle and at least twice my weight.
“Wrong.” He grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head with one of his. “Remember, you’re not stronger than him. But you can be smarter. Use your hips.” To enunciate his point, he reached down with his other hand, his fingers digging into my hip. “Arch up and roll. Use his strength against him.”
I did exactly as he instructed, arching my hips up and trying to roll, but all it did was press myself harder against his groin. Something dark flashed in his eyes as I tried to bump and roll my way free. After a minute of the same motion, I stopped, realizing we were both panting.
We stared at each other, not saying anything for a moment.
“It’s, um, not working.” My throat was suddenly drier than the Sahara Desert.
His jaw clenched as he stared down at me, and I couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. Maybe it was lust, or maybe it was impatience, it was hard to say.
“Think, Seraphine. How would you get free?” His eyes held me in place, my mind struggling to remember what he’d told me earlier. His face was inches from mine, my arms pinned above my head, his other hand controlling my hips.
Then I remembered.
“I could bite him,” I whispered.
“Where?”
I licked my lips, his eyes tracking every movement of my tongue. “In this position, I could reach his shoulder… or his chest.” I glanced at the exposed flesh just above his shirt. My eyes dragged up further, to his neck, then his clenched jaw. “Or his neck.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” He arched his eyebrow. “You’re not going to break me, Seraphine. Show me how you get free.”
Was this a test? Like was this the deciding factor on whether I went to heaven or hell?
Fuck, who was I kidding? I already knew my place was with the demons.
I reached up, my teeth finding the tender flesh between his shoulder and neck, and bit down. Not hard enough to make him bleed, but just enough that his grip on my wrists loosened and I was able to get free.
And because I wasn’t winning any awards for Woman of the Year, I let my tongue press against his skin, tasting him. He was a mix of sweat, and cedar, and the darkest kind of sin ever made.
He growled low in his throat and pulled back slightly to stare into my eyes.
Surprise flashed across his face, not only because he realized he’d let go of me, but because I had the tip of the wooden knife pointed right at his throat.
I smirked, my hand not shaking for once. “You’re dead.”