Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(73)

“Whoa,” I said when we entered the gym. And by gym, I meant a fucking state of the art area with every piece of equipment or weights one could ever need to become Mr. Olympia. There was also a ring, where I assumed Beck beat the shit out of people he didn’t like, and a padded area which was where Dylan led us. Beck stayed back and let his friend take the lead. Dylan’s expression was serious as he stood across from me. “It would take me years to make you sufficient in martial arts, there’s no fast tracking true skills. So today I’m going to focus on Krav Maga.”

I blinked at him, not having heard that before. “I don’t know what that is. All I know is Jackie Chan and Jet Li.”

Dylan chuckled, and his eyes flicked to Beck. I followed that line of sight, and was surprised to see that Beck also looked amused. “Let’s save the Wushu training for another time, Butterfly.”

I shrugged, again having no idea what the hell Wushu was.

“Krav Maga basically translates to unarmed combat. It’s about getting out of there alive and using natural instincts to do so. You already have a lot of fight in you, so it shouldn’t be too difficult for me to hone that into quick, more instinctive reactions.”

I nodded. “Yep, I like it. Sounds down and dirty, which is how I fight.”

Beck’s laughter rumbled out, and I flashed him a grin before giving Dylan my attention again.

The big guy stepped into me, and maybe it was the simple fact that we were fight training, but suddenly he seemed really huge and menacing. He wore workout clothes too, his tank cut off at the sleeves, showcasing his massive arms. Between him and Beck, I was on ripped body overload.

It was almost too much for one chick to handle. Thank fuck for my rabbit.

Swallowing hard, I shuffled back a little. “I mean, you could kill me with one punch. Are you sure I could get away from you?”

His smile was slow. “I’m not going to punch you,” Dylan said, spreading his arms to the side like he was proving his innocence. “I’m going to teach you how to punch me.”

Now that sounded more like it. I stopped moving, and he got really close. There was a sudden tension in the room, and it wasn’t coming from Dylan or me. “First thing you’ll learn is the open hand strike,” Dylan said, and he was suddenly all business. “You can cause a lot of pain if you hit them in the right spot.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you of my currently broken state?” I waved my braced wrist, then indicated to all my various bruises.

“You’re not broken, Butterfly,” Beck commented in a dark voice, “Not yet, anyway.”

Dylan just shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll be careful, but you need to learn this. The idea of you being defenseless…” He trailed off with a grimace, and I could have sworn Beck growled like a pissed off bear.

“I’ll be careful,” Dylan repeated, reassuring me.

He demonstrated how I should use the heel of my hand to strike over and over, aiming for the throat, back and front, the nose, and the thinner bones on the bottom of the face. Since I only had one working hand at the moment, I just mimed the action with my broken one.

“Pivot your hips a little,” Beck said from the sidelines, and I met his gaze. Dylan’s hands landing on my hips had me gasping as I turned back, and I could have sworn Beck made another low growling noise, but I was too distracted to confirm it.

“What are you doing?” I asked Dylan, feeling his strong fingers pressing into my hips.

“Showing you,” he said seriously. “You’ll get way more power if you move your body into those strikes. And always aim for the vulnerable spots like I showed you.”

It took me a few seconds, but my natural athleticism kicked in and I was able to start striking harder. “Good,” Dylan said, stepping back. “I want you to do this over and over, until it becomes like second nature. Practice it every single day.”

I nodded, my arms tingling from the adrenalin. I had no fucking idea why this was so awesome, but I was wondering if maybe I was born to fight. Like my blood and body had known all along I was part of this billionaire company, even if my brain did not. Or maybe I was just sick to fucking death of being a victim, and it was nice to have some control for once.

“The next thing we’ll focus on is the kick to the groin,” Dylan said, stepping back slightly. “For this one, I’m definitely using the pads.”

I snorted as he walked to a shelf and pulled down a medium sized black pad. “A groin kick can take down almost anyone,” he told me when he returned. “And there are ways to do it much more effectively.”

I snorted. “Hello, not a novice at the dick kick, my friend. Guys have trouble with the word no. It’s in every girl’s arsenal.”

Dylan grew serious, and I was just wondering what I’d said, when I felt heat at my back. Beck pressed right into me, and I almost groaned at the feeling of him behind me.

“Who?” he said softly, and I really had no idea what he was talking about.

Dylan moved forward, not touching me, but I could feel his heat as well. “Who couldn’t take no for an answer?” he breathed.

Oh. That’s what this was about.

Furious, dangerous men surrounded me, and instead of scaring me, it turned me right the fuck on. “No one you need to worry about,” I said a little breathlessly. “I got in a good dick kick, and then Dante dragged him away, and I never saw him again.”