Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
A swift shadow of anger slips over her soft features, making her jaw appear tight. She’s not happy with that memory. “I’ll figure it out,” she snaps, her voice inflamed with rage.
“Little dove, there’s no need to be mad.” And this time I mean it. Normally my words drip with sarcasm, but since we have too much time and very little to do, I do want to teach her this. “Let me teach you how to fight.”
She stands there for a minute, her expression blank, before she places her hands on her hips, and gives me her signature, yet sexy look of defiance. “Aren’t you scared it will give me the upper hand,” she draws out, her voice very low, trying to be mischievous.
“Hardly.”
That makes her full pink lips turn up into a grin. “Maybe one day I’ll get the better of you. What then?”
I step closer to her. I’m close enough that she now needs to crane her neck to see my eyes. “Then I’ll count myself lucky to die by the hands of someone so lovely.”
The compliment must take her off guard because she swallows. I use the movement and surprise to my advantage, grabbing her by her shoulders. “Defend yourself.” I pull her into me, capturing her hands next. “Fight me off.”
She tries to squirm, but her movements do the opposite. It’s like she stuck in quicksand; the more she moves, the tighter my grip gets.
“With my arms wrapped around you, there is little you can do.”
“What’s the point, then?” She huffs, still trying to break away.
“Use what you still have at your disposal.”
Her movements stop, and I know she’s trying to think of a way to defend herself. “Your foot. Stomp down. The movement will make my grip temporarily loosen. Use it to your advantage.”
She stomps down.
“Good, but you’re still holding back. Let’s try some more.”
I spend the next few hours running through basic self-defense moves. Moves that one day, with enough practice, could save her life.
I’m not sure what it is about her, but I have a deep-seated desire to protect her. The thought of that, though, makes me laugh. She’s not the kind of girl who would ever let me do that for her. Seeing as I know that won’t happen, I plan on giving her the tools to protect herself.
We fight for a while. She’s a quick study. Again, in my arms, I hold her tightly, my fingers touching her exposed skin. She shivers beneath my touch, and I move in, placing my head closer to the crook of her neck. I breathe out, knowing my breath tickles her skin … then she strikes.
And believe it or not, takes me completely off guard. I stumble back as her elbow connects with my ribs. Then she swivels around, and her fist connects with my jaw.
It’s my own fault as I step back and wipe the blood from my lip.
“You’re bleeding,” she exclaims, walking toward me. “Are you hurt?”
“I thought you wanted me to die.” I smirk.
“I never said I wanted you to die, just be maimed.”
“Big difference.” I swipe at my lip again, and there is still a trail of blood dripping off it.
“Let’s grab the first-aid kit. I’ll clean that for you.”
“I’m fine.”
Not really. I let this little wisp of a girl get one over on me. Phoenix Michaels is more dangerous to my health than she knows.
Neither of us speaks on the way back, but when we get back, I let her start the fire and then point back to the sky and tell her more about the stars above.
* * *
The next day comes before I know it.
She pops up from where she is and smiles.
“What’s on the agenda today?” she asks from beside me. I’m barely up, but it makes me laugh. Ever since yesterday, she’s been in a good mood. Almost like the idea of learning how to survive has given her a purpose here on the island.
I can understand that. At one time in my life, it gave me a purpose too.
“Today, I’ll teach you how to shoot a gun.”
Her eyes go wide, and her face pales. Then I notice her hand is shaking. Uncontrollably.
“No.” Her one-word answer leaves no room for debate.
“How about I teach you how to fish?”
She moves to a sitting position. “Really?” I can hear the gratitude in her voice that I don’t press her.
“Yes, it’s different here than it would be back home, but I can still teach you.”
“How so?” she asks, and I smile.
“Other than the obvious …”
“Which is?”
“Well, we don’t have a fishing rod.”
She inclines her head. “You mean there is no portable fishing rod in your handy-dandy travel survival kit?”
“Nope,” I respond with a smile.
“What good is this thing”—she motions to the bag—“without a fishing rod?”
I jump up from where I’m lying in the raft and pretend to go to the bag. “You’re right. What was I thinking? I should just throw it out.”