Chapter Fifteen
Hawk sulked to the gun range, his face as bright red as his hair.
After a ten-minute break, Colton handed a blade to Imara. “Here. This’ll make it fairer.”
Imara shot him a glare. “I don’t need a weapon to beat you.”
Colton smirked. “Yeah, you do.” He shoved the sheathed dagger into Imara’s arms and stalked toward the ring before she could protest.
“Am I allowed to kill him?” Imara asked Christian.
His mouth rose in a half-grin. “No, but you can maim him.”
“Good.” Her stare was vicious as she marched to where Colton waited for her. He leaned smugly in the corner of the boxing ring, and Gemma pursed her lips to suppress a smile. This match was going to be hilarious.
Five minutes into it, though, Christian nudged her. “There’s an empty ring if you want me to show you some moves. I can make Hawk referee.”
Gemma froze. Should she let him teach her how to fight, when every time he caught her eye, her stomach did a stupid flip?
No way. Bad idea. If she didn’t start avoiding him, her plan was going to fall apart.
She politely smiled at him. “No, I’m okay. But thanks.”
Christian’s expression was one of amusement. “You own the record for the quickest defeat, remember? Let me at least show you how to defend yourself.”
Gemma huffed. He did have a point. She had very little idea how to protect herself, if it ever came to it. And she might need those skills to pass the next rounds of the Trials.
She sighed. “Fine. When you put it that way.”
His face broke out into a dazzling grin, and Gemma scolded herself when her stomach somersaulted.
After Christian convinced Hawk to stop sulking and referee Colton and Imara’s match, Christian jumped into the empty ring with Gemma.
“All right, your stance isn’t bad,” Christian began. “Square your hips toward me a bit more—yep. Your feet are already staggered—good. Okay, hands up.”
A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck as she lifted her fists and he took each between his hands, repositioning her fingers.
His perfect eyes stayed locked on hers as he adjusted her elbows until her knuckles were at the level of her cheekbones.
The hazel-green of his irises were so full of life and vibrancy that the emotions passed through him and into her, the darkness in her soul beginning to warm.
She startled. Bloody hell, Gemma. She was starting to have actual feelings for him, not just physical attraction.
That was going to be a problem.
Christian cleared his throat as he stepped back. “All right, throw a punch at me.”
She held her breath and swung. Her fist collided with his forearm; the speed at which he blocked her hit was astounding.
“Not bad, but you need to throw your weight behind it. Turn your hips as you strike,” he advised.
Heat crept up her neck as she raised her fists again. Grunting, she swung her arm, making sure to twist her hips.
Christian grabbed her fist and spun her around. He grabbed her in a gentle chokehold, drawing her back against his toned chest. The feeling of his strong arm around her neck sent butterflies into her toes. Stars, help me.
“All right,” he said, his voice rumbling against her back. “Someone comes up from behind you the way Imara did. What’s your first instinct?”
“Scream,” she joked.
His deep chuckle made her knees tremble. “Okay, that would work in most situations, but what if you’re alone? Then what?”
Gemma’s heart rate was one thousand beats per minute. “Grab your arm.”
“Good. Go ahead.”
Her fingers wrapped around his forearm, and she tried not to notice how firm it was beneath her hands. But when he drew his arm a little tighter around her neck, the ripple his muscles made forced a tingle to roll down her spine.
“Now,” Christian continued, “what I want you to do is tuck your chin to your chest, pull on my arm with both hands, and turn toward my elbow. Drive your shoulder into my chest.”
Gemma took a deep breath and tried, but he didn’t budge.
“Pop your hips back more. Drop your center of gravity. Try to push me away as you turn.”
Gemma shivered. Just don’t think about it, okay? Pretend he’s an ugly, old man.
Grinding her teeth, Gemma bent her knees and rammed her butt into Christian’s hips, tugging on his arm as hard as she could. He grunted as she turned toward his elbow, thrusting her shoulder into his stomach.
Christian loosened his grasp and took a step back, his eyes bright. “Good. Now what?”
“Kick you between your legs and run away.”
He grinned from ear to ear before laughter ripped from deep in his chest, his eyes creasing in the corners. “That was good, Proctor. That would definitely do the trick.”
She couldn’t stop the smile that grew across her face, and when a loud, high-pitched whistle filled the room, signaling their training session was over, Gemma was left with a surprising—and unwelcome—feeling:
She didn’t want her time with him to end.
A moment later, she stared at the inside of her sleep chamber, her heart pounding against her sternum. Gemma forced the lid open and climbed out once her uniform was securely zipped.
Imara growled the moment her feet touched the floor. “Hey, I almost won that match!”
“You didn’t even come close,” Hawk replied, and she shoved him into the wall.
“I apologize for the abrupt termination of your training. I have been instructed to allow you to return to your dormitory to rest for the remainder of the evening,” the android said. “Enjoy your relaxation.”
Gemma placed a hand on her stomach, releasing a slow sigh of relief through her nose.
She could now go back to not looking Christian in the eye, to not having to stand within inches of him and the musky sent of his aftershave.
He’d gotten way, way too close to cracking the wall she’d spent years building around her heart.
From now on, she needed to pretend he didn’t exist.
But her eyes betrayed her when she turned to exit the room. Christian stared at her, his light brown hair falling onto his forehead, and his kind eyes full of deep admiration.
Gemma’s stomach somersaulted. Blast you, stupid eyeballs.