tendency
to bounce back, and Sensei didn't like it when the dojo walls were
damaged.
Shay struggled with Bob the brainless who
was taller and heavier than Shay, until he got it far enough away
from the mirrored walls that Reed couldn't hurt anything when she
whacked the hell out of him.
Shay patted Bob's rubbery, but surprisingly
life-like cheek and said, "Go easy on him, Red. Poor guy can't hit
back. And watch who you're calling 'little' or you'll be the one
dusting off your skinny derriere in that child's sized gi." He
narrowed his eyes at her giving Reed his best Drill Sargent
voice.
"Now get to work."
"Yes sir." Reed snapped off a salute and
smacked Bob in the middle of his armless torso, hitting his
lifeless solar plexus so hard the recoil smacked her hand when she
didn't retrieve it fast enough.
It was a good start.
She followed with a series of strikes to
Bob's temples, both sides of his neck and collar bones. Had Bob
been alive, he'd be singing with the angels by now, or at least on
a respirator waiting for that bright light to take him away.
Reed didn't bother with her feet. Bob ended
just below the belly button and Reed preferred to kick lower than
that. Instead of using her feet she threw another series of strikes
with her hands, wrists and elbows until she was so winded Bob
barely recoiled any longer. Then, just for fun, she threw a
spinning crescent kick to Bob's temple. It was a stretch for her,
but the satisfying smack it made had Reed smiling.
The sleigh bells on the front door rang with
people coming in for class. The sound registered in Reed's brain,
but she ignored it. No one bothered anyone else when they were
working on Bob. It was one of many unwritten dojo rules of
etiquette.
With what was left of her adrenalin Reed
threw a punishing upper-cut elbow combination to Bob's jaw,
bouncing him back with a thump that rocked the dojo floor. Since
Bob weighed twice what Reed did plus twenty pounds, she was pleased
with herself. She could almost put last night out of her mind. But
almost didn't cut it with hand-grenades, horse shoes or soul
touching men who swept a woman off her feet and landed her in the
middle of Sin City.
"Wouldn't you rather have your hands all
over me?"
Reed spun around, still panting with
exertion, and there he stood, in the octagon shaped entrance framed
by afternoon sunlight, like some dark haired Norse god preparing to
pillage and plunder.
Reed stood winded and spent, sweat stinging
her eyes as it ran freely from every pore, watching him as his eyes
lit with something like possession. He wasn't even trying to hide
his intention as his gaze ran the length of her before settling on
her face. How dare he show up here looking like ten tons of trouble
and good enough to eat?
This was her sacred place, her refuge from
the world. Who the hell did he think he was invading the inner most
recesses of her universe? This was a place of serious training, a
space she shared with her dojo-mates. It wasn't a place for
wannabe-viking-marauders bent on destruction. As of yesterday, he
wasn't a member of the dojo, and as for the mate part, well, she
preferred not to dwell on that.
He took a step forward, out of the light,
and Reed could see him more clearly. She took her time assessing
every detail. He must have found time for a nap because he didn't
look anywhere near as tired as she felt.
Bastard .
He wore his hair loose again and it gleamed
with red flashes in the setting sun. Stubble dotted his chin and
lower jaw giving him a piratical appearance that did nothing to
detract from his physical beauty. His tight t-shirt showed the
definition of his muscular shoulders and chest that she knew from
experience was remarkably hairless. Not so with his lower abdomen,
where a line of dark silky hair ran into a closely cropped patch of
hair that led to...
Shay leaned over and hissed in her ear,
"Stop staring at that guy's crotch. It's embarrassing. Want me to
take him out for you?"
Reed's eyes
to bounce back, and Sensei didn't like it when the dojo walls were
damaged.
Shay struggled with Bob the brainless who
was taller and heavier than Shay, until he got it far enough away
from the mirrored walls that Reed couldn't hurt anything when she
whacked the hell out of him.
Shay patted Bob's rubbery, but surprisingly
life-like cheek and said, "Go easy on him, Red. Poor guy can't hit
back. And watch who you're calling 'little' or you'll be the one
dusting off your skinny derriere in that child's sized gi." He
narrowed his eyes at her giving Reed his best Drill Sargent
voice.
"Now get to work."
"Yes sir." Reed snapped off a salute and
smacked Bob in the middle of his armless torso, hitting his
lifeless solar plexus so hard the recoil smacked her hand when she
didn't retrieve it fast enough.
It was a good start.
She followed with a series of strikes to
Bob's temples, both sides of his neck and collar bones. Had Bob
been alive, he'd be singing with the angels by now, or at least on
a respirator waiting for that bright light to take him away.
Reed didn't bother with her feet. Bob ended
just below the belly button and Reed preferred to kick lower than
that. Instead of using her feet she threw another series of strikes
with her hands, wrists and elbows until she was so winded Bob
barely recoiled any longer. Then, just for fun, she threw a
spinning crescent kick to Bob's temple. It was a stretch for her,
but the satisfying smack it made had Reed smiling.
The sleigh bells on the front door rang with
people coming in for class. The sound registered in Reed's brain,
but she ignored it. No one bothered anyone else when they were
working on Bob. It was one of many unwritten dojo rules of
etiquette.
With what was left of her adrenalin Reed
threw a punishing upper-cut elbow combination to Bob's jaw,
bouncing him back with a thump that rocked the dojo floor. Since
Bob weighed twice what Reed did plus twenty pounds, she was pleased
with herself. She could almost put last night out of her mind. But
almost didn't cut it with hand-grenades, horse shoes or soul
touching men who swept a woman off her feet and landed her in the
middle of Sin City.
"Wouldn't you rather have your hands all
over me?"
Reed spun around, still panting with
exertion, and there he stood, in the octagon shaped entrance framed
by afternoon sunlight, like some dark haired Norse god preparing to
pillage and plunder.
Reed stood winded and spent, sweat stinging
her eyes as it ran freely from every pore, watching him as his eyes
lit with something like possession. He wasn't even trying to hide
his intention as his gaze ran the length of her before settling on
her face. How dare he show up here looking like ten tons of trouble
and good enough to eat?
This was her sacred place, her refuge from
the world. Who the hell did he think he was invading the inner most
recesses of her universe? This was a place of serious training, a
space she shared with her dojo-mates. It wasn't a place for
wannabe-viking-marauders bent on destruction. As of yesterday, he
wasn't a member of the dojo, and as for the mate part, well, she
preferred not to dwell on that.
He took a step forward, out of the light,
and Reed could see him more clearly. She took her time assessing
every detail. He must have found time for a nap because he didn't
look anywhere near as tired as she felt.
Bastard .
He wore his hair loose again and it gleamed
with red flashes in the setting sun. Stubble dotted his chin and
lower jaw giving him a piratical appearance that did nothing to
detract from his physical beauty. His tight t-shirt showed the
definition of his muscular shoulders and chest that she knew from
experience was remarkably hairless. Not so with his lower abdomen,
where a line of dark silky hair ran into a closely cropped patch of
hair that led to...
Shay leaned over and hissed in her ear,
"Stop staring at that guy's crotch. It's embarrassing. Want me to
take him out for you?"
Reed's eyes
Similar Books
