Chapter 11
Aweek passed, and in contrast to her first two weeks at the Nest, Asha’s days were quiet and uneventful.
Cade went for a jog in the early morning hours, then worked out in the yard.
He was gone in the afternoons, training with the Blackguard in the south end of the Nest, and returned for dinner each day.
He made no demands of Asha, other than that she rest up and heal from her injuries. When she asked him about the problem of leaving her alone with Angel, he merely answered, “When you’re better, we’ll figure it out.”
By the end of the week, Asha was feeling much better physically, but she couldn’t wait anymore. They hadn’t talked about what she’d told him since that night in bed, but surely, he could understand her anxiety? She had to know what to expect.
After dinner, she watched him go out into the backyard, where he seemed to be preparing for something. He’d rested a backpack against the outside wall of the house, and he looked up at her when she walked out.
“Good, you’re here,” Cade said briskly. “I want to try something. Throw a punch.”
Asha balked. “What?”
“You heard me. Throw a punch at me.”
“Why?”
“The sooner you do it, the sooner you’ll find out.”
She scoffed. “No.”
Cade’s mouth curved into a small, confrontational smile. “You scared there, darling? What happened? I’ve always thought of you like a little viper—always ready to strike.”
Asha rolled her eyes, but much to her annoyance, the taunt was working on her.
“Not scared. Just bored.”
He closed the gap between them, his face inches from hers. She took a sharp inhale at his nearness. She could feel the heat of his body.
“So, it should be easy, then, to take me down,” Cade said in a low, intimate tone. “You gonna show me what you got, or what?”
Asha shot him a glare. “Fuck off.”
To her further annoyance, he laughed. “This should be good. Show me a little bit of what you gave Angel, huh?”
The mention of her tormentor finally made Asha snap. She threw a punch, but he caught her fist in his hand and twisted her arm behind her back. His other arm wrapped around her throat, holding her firmly in place. He wasn’t hurting her, but she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Lesson one,” he said by her ear. “Uncontrolled rage makes you sloppy. Sloppy fighters make stupid mistakes.”
Cade released her, and she lashed out at him again.
He blocked each of her blows almost lazily, like it was too easy.
That only heightened her frustration, and she struck out at him again, only to have him step out of her reach.
She paused, panting, and was vexed when she realized that he looked entirely unbothered. He didn’t even look winded.
“As a woman of average size, you’re at a disadvantage against most male combatants,” he said matter-of-factly. “Weapons even the odds, but your best weapon is your brain.”
“Did your sensei teach you that?” Asha said sardonically, and he laughed again. She hated how much she liked the sound of his laugh, and the way it lit up and softened his intense, serious features.
“No. But it’s what I’ve known to be true, in battle after battle. The ability to stay calm, think clearly, and make good decisions in extreme situations is what keeps you alive.”
“And you’re saying that I haven’t made good decisions,” she shot back.
“On the contrary,” Cade replied, catching her fist in his hand as she threw another punch. “I think you’ve done the best anyone could do without any training. It’s not something we naturally know how to do. Panic is our default.”
He walked over to his pack, which leaned against the outside wall of the condo. He fished inside, then withdrew two long strips of fabric, plus what looked like crudely fashioned kneepads. They were like tiny cushions, clumsily made by wrapping burlap around some kind of stuffing.
“What the hell are those?” Asha said, bewildered.
Cade smiled. “Padding. Give me your hands for a minute.”
She hesitated. No one had touched her since the attack except for Leo, when he’d tended to her.
She thought of the last week, when they’d shared a bed and Cade had been careful to stick to his side, putting as much distance between them as possible.
How she’d both wanted it and hated it, and how she’d hated herself for wanting it.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Cade murmured, breaking through her thoughts. “Haven’t I proven that, at least?”
His grey eyes were focused, but softer than usual, entreating. They asked for her trust. She didn’t know if she could give it, but they made her want to. She sighed and held out her hands.
Cade unraveled the strips of fabric and wound them around each of her palms, then up her fingers, his touch featherlight and careful.
She knew he was trying not to frighten her, and paradoxically, that angered her.
She hated being so fragile that he had to walk on eggshells around her. She needed to be better, stronger.
“Alright,” Cade said once her hands were wrapped. He tied the odd-looking kneepads around his own hands with ribbons sewn onto the sides. They looked bizarre, and Asha had to suppress a snort as he held up his hands. “Now, punch me as hard as you can.”
She did snort at that. “Anywhere, or?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Quit stalling.”
Asha took in a breath, then struck out at him again, hitting his left hand.
“Terrible,” Cade remarked. “That can’t be how hard you hit Angel. Guy had a black eye and a fat lip.”
She hit him again, this time on the right. “So what if it’s not?”
“So what?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “So maybe what really happened was an accident, huh? Maybe you and him got a little kinky, and things just got out of hand?”
Flashbacks came, fast and furious. Hitting Angel in the face with the ashtray; him screaming; her screaming as he burned her with cigarettes; stumbling out of his room, blood oozing between her thighs.
“Fuck you,” Asha bit out, striking his hand harder. “Fuck you and every man here who protects him. You’re all guilty.”
“Seems if we were guilty, you’d be hitting harder,” Cade replied nonchalantly. “You’ve never killed anyone, have you? You gotta mean it, or it’ll be your head on the pike instead.”
An image of the severed heads on the gate flooded her brain, followed by more of the torture she’d suffered at Angel’s hands.
The deep well of rage inside of her, that part that refused to be broken, resurfaced, and she was glad.
It was her reservoir of survival. It made her keep going even when she saw no reason to try.
Her blows grew stronger, faster, until she was no longer seeing anything but the blur of motion, no longer feeling anything except a swell of humiliation and fury that threatened to swallow her whole.
“You think I wanted that?” Asha said, and she realized distantly that she was screaming at him. “That I wanted that motherfucker to rape me and beat me? That I wanted to be burned, and bled, and broken?”
Cade didn’t reply, didn’t react, and she couldn’t see him anymore anyway. All that existed was the swirling torrent of shame in her gut, and the feeling of her fists hitting the pads. The impacts were satisfying, even as they made her more desperate for a reprieve from all the pain inside her.
“That I wanted my safe home to be destroyed? That I wanted to leave my best friend to be eaten by cannibals? That I wanted to lose everything—everything?”
She was getting tired, panting and sweating, but he needed to hear the truth.
“And it’s your fault!” she burst out, and she hated that she heard tears in her voice. “You were supposed to protect me. I s-said yes to your stupid bargain, offered you my body, because you were supposed to protect me from him!”
All the strength went out of her at once, and she dropped to her knees, gasping for breath. To her horror, she was shaking like a leaf. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t allow them to fall.
She didn’t register Cade dropping to his knees across from her, but the next thing she knew, his arms slowly wrapped around her, drawing her against him.
Her instinct told her to resist, to pull away, but she was startled by how gentle he was.
He held her loosely, allowing her to easily escape if she wanted to, but somehow, she didn’t.
It had been a long time since someone’s touch had felt good to her, and his was oddly comforting. She buried her face in his shoulder.
“I know,” Cade said, and to her surprise, he didn’t sound angry.
He sounded crestfallen. “He’s a monster.
And maybe I am, too. But let me use my skills to sharpen those fangs of yours, little viper.
To help you never need anyone to come to your rescue.
You have a fire burning in you that I saw the moment you spit on that asshole at Little River. Use it.”
“I don’t know how,” Asha blubbered. “I just…maybe the fire’s still there, like you said, but I can’t feel it. Like he snuffed it out, and all I feel now is this darkness inside of me. And I don’t know how to turn the light back on.”
“That’s what this world does.” He patted her back. “We all feel it. The trick is to realize that the only way to survive the darkness is to become its mistress, darling.”
She considered that as she let him hold onto her for another moment, inhaling his scent and grounding herself. When she finally pulled back, he wore a small, sad smile.
“You said that rage makes sloppy fighters,” Asha said, and he gave a low chuckle.
“Yes, uncontrolled rage,” he replied. “I’ll teach you to use that beautiful anger wisely. To give you focus, and to inflict pain on your enemies.” He swallowed and looked away. “To become a Blackguard.”
“There are no women in the Blackguard.”
“That’s true,” Cade said as he helped her to her feet. “But there’s a first for everything. It’ll take years of training before you’re on a similar level to me, Leo, and Dom; we’re soldiers. Professionals. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep yourself safe in the meantime.”