31. Resa

Chapter 31

Resa

" B laine said bare feet and comfy clothes, right?" I try not to stare at Vaughn's bare chest and the sweatpants he's wearing low. Like, way down, I'm getting hints of a dark blond triangle peeking from?—

Stop. Staring .

I wrench my gaze from Vaughn's pants to his face. He's stretching out the kinks in his neck. He stops long enough to give me a lazy smile. "This is comfy."

I eye him with suspicion.

Thirty minutes, Blaine said, and he'd meet us in the gym where we'd start my self-defense lessons. I'd slipped upstairs to dig through the closet I'd started filling with designer clothes Lex keeps bringing me.

Halfway through my digging, I realized I was riffling through clothes that hadn't been there a day before. New clothes. Expensive clothes. When I got a glimpse of the price tags, I winced at leggings way too pricy to sweat in.

The soles of my feet no longer hurt from the glass. They're a little tender, but the black mat is spongy.

I'm in a pair of black leggings, a sports bra and a dark gray tank that hits the top of my thighs, my hair pulled back into a ponytail. I did not have hair ties yesterday or any of the clothes I'm currently wearing. Lex is like the clothes fairy or something.

"My clothes are multiplying," I'd told Vaughn when I'd found him flat on his back in the middle of the mat, shirtless, texting someone called Cynthia, who was trying to steal his job.

His eyes had flicked up after he'd finished complaining, and a slow, sexy smile had pulled on the corners of his lips. "You look beautiful," he said, patting the mat beside him. "Come sit here."

Sit on a mat beside a shirtless Vaughn while he's smiling up at me like I'm dessert?

"No, thanks."

He slid his phone off the mat and he's spent the last several minutes slowly stretching out muscles I don't think need stretching at all.

"Do you think I pushed Blaine into this?" I'm starting to think I have. If it was something he really wanted to do, he'd be down here already.

Blaine doesn't like to be touched, and Vaughn is probably a little too eager to touch me.

There's no probably about it. You saw the way he checked to make sure you were watching him stretch out his quads.

Vaughn steps into a low lunge. "He said he'll be here. He'll be here."

"What are you doing?" Other than trying to get me to notice every muscle you possess.

"Stretching my glutes." He twists to face me, his expression so innocent I don't buy it for a second. "Wouldn't want to pull anything."

"And if he doesn't?" I flick my gaze to the gym door to avoid Vaughn's extended stretching session. "Do you think I should tell him not to bother?"

"He'll be here," Vaughn assures me.

He's an alpha, and I have no love for them, but he's insecure about his scars and he doesn't let anyone touch him. Would he even have volunteered to teach me if I hadn't stained that bitch's dress? "If this is going to be an issue…"

"Blaine knows his own mind. If he says he wants to do it, he'll do it."

I raise my brow. "He doesn't like to be touched."

"But I do like to be touched." He winks.

And that is why I'm positive he came to this sparring session shirtless on purpose.

The door swings open, and there's no missing the tension on Blaine's shoulders. I bounce on the heels of my feet, excited, nervous, and guilty that I've pushed him to do something that clearly makes him uncomfortable.

He hasn't changed out of his black pants, turtleneck, and sneakers. As he walks toward us, his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and I strangle the same urge to push them up as I did at the party.

"Sorry I'm late. I was thinking about how this would work." Blaine stops at the edge of the mat and nudges his glasses back up.

Vaughn does a back spring to his feet.

How he ended up down there when he was trying to get me to look at his ass, I have no clue. I flatten my lips to hide my smile, pretending not to notice his acrobatics, the rapid glance my way, or the sad sigh when he realizes I wasn't looking.

Blaine stuffs his hands in his pockets.

He looks so serious that I brace myself for him to tell me he's changed his mind. "You need quick and dirty."

"I need what now?"

" Yes ! I like the sound of that." Vaughn bumps his shoulder with mine and I get the feeling his version of quick and dirty might not be the same as Blaine's. At least I hope not.

I think not.

Maybe?

"We need the element of surprise. Learning martial arts— any martial arts—takes a lot of time and conditioning. Quick and dirty will give you a handful of tools to get yourself out of a sticky situation," Blaine explains.

"O'Brien and his men are professionals. Do you seriously think I could do any damage to trained security people?" I ask doubtfully.

"Anyone can do damage if they move fast enough," Blaine says emphatically, though I'm not sure I believe him.

"Or if you surprise them," Vaughn adds.

He pretended to be a drunk and blew two trained professionals away. And I killed Rupert with an unexpected shove out of a window.

"A man can usually guess that when a woman fights back where she's going to hit. That is, forgive my pun, low hanging fruit," Blaine says, lip twitching.

I smile, and Vaughn snorts a laugh.

"It's not a bad place to hit, but it's good to mix things up a bit." Blaine pulls his left hand from his pocket and points at each area as he speaks. "A throat punch will make someone choke and let you go. Eye gouges are better. They can't see you run or where you run." His hand lowers to his belly. "A hit to the solar plexus can be debilitating. Get someone there and suddenly, curling up in a ball and wheezing takes priority to grabbing you."

I stare at him.

I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this.

"It's probably for the best we take things easy," Blaine continues.

After I wound up in the clinic, he doesn't want to push me so hard that I start bleeding again. And I agree. My hand flutters to my belly and I chase my dark thoughts away. I'm okay now. My baby is okay, so there's nothing to worry about. I'm not interested in being super fit or running a marathon. I just want some tools to defend myself.

When the clinic visit—and the terror that led to it—isn't so fresh, I'll think about improving my level of fitness. Until then, I don't want to do anything that might hurt my baby.

"We're going to teach you to aim for maximum pain and you get out. Fast . Hit, hit, and run."

"But I'll have my knife," I remind him.

"Weapons are good." Blaine nods. "But weapons can be taken away and used against you."

I kind of wish he hadn't told me that. I needed to hear it, but that doesn't mean I don't gulp at the thought.

"You do anything to create an opportunity to get away. That is the goal," he says calmly.

"Anything?"

His eyes glint with ferocity. " Anything . If it means pulling someone's hair like you're in fifth grade, you pull it. If someone is wearing an earring, you tear it out. If they grab you, you break their wrist. And you run at the first opportunity. There are no rules."

Yeesh, maybe Blaine is the one who should have the bloodthirsty nickname. Not me.

I inch back half a step so I'm no longer in the direct line of fire of Blaine's ferocity, yet a tingle goes down my spine. I'm not sure if it's excitement, fear, or a heady combination of the two. But you know what? I'm up for this.

I lick my lips. "This doesn't sound like martial arts."

"This is survival. We're going to teach you to identify weak, vulnerable areas to exploit, but the main goal is always to get away."

"You said hit, hit, then run. Why can't I just hit someone in the throat and run?" I ask.

"Because one blow is rarely enough. It's good to have something else in reserve."

"Like an eye gouge?"

He smiles. "Like an eye gouge. Or a kick in the groin." He turns to Vaughn. "Are you ready to play dummy?"

With all this talk of eye gouges and hair pulling and debilitating hits to the solar plexus, I expect Vaughn to point to the punching bag in the corner and say, use that, not to grin at me. "I'm ready when you are, bloodthirsty omega."

Blaine captures my gaze, stepping forward. "We'll work on just the body for now. Another day, we can focus on holding and keeping onto your knife so no one can take it away. Weapons can be tricky."

I have another one of those tearful moments I had in the clinic when I found a knife on my bedside table. No one is trying to take my knife away from me. They are thinking of ways I can keep hold of it for even longer. Ways I can make myself safe.

And that, to me, is… priceless. Absolutely priceless.

I swallow the lump in my throat. "How so?"

"If you have a weapon, your opponent is more likely to pull out their weapon, and that complicates our main goal to get away."

I guess that makes sense.

Over the span of an hour, I learn eye gouges, throat jabs, how to punch, and how to grab a wrist and twist until I break it.

Vaughn literally just stands there and lets me use him as a dummy. Occasionally, he'll lift my hand slightly and say, "Maximum pain, bloodthirsty omega. Hit me here."

I struggle to believe they don't have things they could be working on. Things like, you know, maybe their jobs. But instead they're teaching me how to stick my thumbs in someone's eye and break their nose with the heel of my hand. I eat up their knowledge, soaking it all in and wishing I'd known it back when I was in my cell.

I won't let anyone lock me up again, but if the worst ever happens, at least I won't be defenseless.

"Do you think you're ready to break out of a hold?" Blaine asks.

Not really. I know Vaughn won't hurt me, but my brain and my body are in a battle with each other.

Swallowing my fear of putting myself in such a vulnerable position, I nod, turning my back on Vaughn. "I'm ready."

I'm not.

I'm terrified I'm going to flash back to all the alphas who have hurt me, and I don't want Blaine and Vaughn to see my weakness if I suddenly lose it when Vaughn grabs me.

I'm not even close to being ready, but I'm good at pretending, so I do that.

Blaine has a line between his brows. "We don't have to do this."

I don't just want to learn how to be stronger. I need to. "Yes. We do."

Another long look and he sighs. "Okay. Vaughn."

I hold my breath and brace myself for Vaughn to grab me, silencing the part of me that wants to run.

He tugs my ponytail.

" Vaughn !" I glare at him.

His expression is as cheerful as it is apologetic. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. You can pull mine if you want."

I tamp down my smile as my eyes flick to his tied back hair. "I don't want to pull your hair."

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Who said anything about my hair ?"

I roll my eyes, but I'm secretly smiling. I try and I try but I can't help but like him.

He grins. "You ready to do some damage?"

I should be getting ready to incapacitate him with an elbow to the kidney instead of wanting to laugh. But I nod.

Vaughn steps up behind me. Close. He smells so amazing, that to my shame, it takes me a second to remember what I'm supposed to be doing.

He wraps one muscled arm around my front, and his breath is hot at the back of my neck when he says, "So, how do you break out?"

I run through my options. He's practically giving me a bear hug, so I have no room to dig my elbow into his side.

"I could bite you. Here." I feign biting his forearm. "Then when you let go, I break your wrist."

In theory.

"Run it through." Blaine is standing feet away, watching closely.

I grip Vaughn's arm and fake a bite. His hold on me relaxes and I grab his wrist, ready to twist it like Blaine showed me before.

"Not like that. Like—" Blaine is stretching his hand toward me when he suddenly halts. His right hand hovers between us. I freeze, and behind me, Vaughn does likewise.

For two seconds, none of us moves.

Then Blaine grips my wrist and moves it slightly to the right. "Like that."

I hadn't believed he would touch me. The way Vaughn has been holding his breath makes me believe he hadn't thought Blaine would touch me either. He quietly releases his breath and then the moment passes.

"Continue," Blaine says as he retreats off the mat and shoves his hand back in his pocket.

I clear my throat, refocusing. "So I bite Vaughn here." I feign biting him. He gives a realistic yelp and his grip loosens. I grab his wrist and duck in one motion, twist, and then I let go before I break his wrist for real.

Blaine nods approvingly. "Excellent."

Vaughn is grinning too. "Good job. If you wanted to kick my knee after you break my wrist, there's no way I wouldn't go down."

Never has someone sounded so excited to be kicked in the knee. It is utterly ridiculous and I can't help but smile.

"Is there anything else I could do?" I bounce on the heels of my feet, exhilarated.

Blaine's expression is thoughtful. "Headbutt might work. It's risky. You could knock yourself out."

"But if you do it right, you could break my nose," Vaughn says. "Which might give you a chance to run."

"A foot stamp is always useful." Blaine nods at me. "Want to try it?"

I'm already getting into position with a grin. "I'm ready."

And this time, I really am.

Blaine backs up even farther. "Let's play it out. We won't stop this time, Resa. Listen to your instincts and see what comes to you."

"And if I hurt Vaughn for real?"

"I can take it." Vaughn rolls his neck and shakes out his shoulders.

I eye his unnecessary preparations with an arched brow as I recall his response when he picked glass out of my foot. "But will you take it quietly or should I expect some wail?—"

I scramble away from his half-hearted grab. Vaughn is grinning, I'm laughing… having fun, and when I glance at Blaine, a faint smile curls his lips. I'm not sure why, but seeing it creates this warmth in my belly.

And I realize he hasn't tried to turn his body to hide the burn on his right cheek since this self-defense lesson started.

Is he forgetting his scars? I hope so. Because they barely even register for me. I notice them the way I notice someone has blue eyes or green, red hair or black, then I move onto noticing the next thing.

His smile falls away, and he nods at Vaughn. "Go on. Let's see what you can do."

Vaughn wraps his arm around me. I wriggle, elbowing him in the gut. He huffs but doesn't let go, proving Blaine's one hit theory. I struggle, and my feet briefly leave the floor. I stop trying to use my strength against him. Won't work. He's stronger than me. Need to get him to let me go.

I slam my head back and it briefly rings. Vaughn grunts, releasing me. And because I know he's expecting something we've done before, I trip him the way I tripped Rupert.

He thumps to the ground.

I grin at Vaughn and turn to Blaine. "How was?—"

Blaine is walking away. Fast . "Excellent. We'll pick this up another time."

My smile slides off my face. "Was I not supposed to?—"

"You were supposed to do anything to get me down," Vaughn interrupts. "No rules, remember?"

I stare after Blaine until the door closes behind him. "Then why do I get the sense I did something wrong?"

"You didn't. He had another reason he had to leave."

Is Vaughn's smile a little secretive or is it just in my head?

"And that reason was?"

"Uh, he won't appreciate me telling you. While we're here, I could show you how to stop someone taking a knife off you if you want?"

What I want is to know why Blaine took off like that.

"Uh…"

Vaughn is across the room and riffling through a black basket before I've told him I want to extend this lesson. He pulls out a knife. A dagger really, almost a matching pair to my knife.

He's back seconds later, offering it to me. "Here."

Because I will never turn down an opportunity to learn how to defend myself, I take the knife.

"You always want to hold it low, close by your side," he explains, showing me. "No one should be able to knock it out of your hand, and you have the benefit of keeping it hidden until it's time to use it. Keep your body turned a little to the side… good. Shield it."

I hold it low as he studies me, then changes my grip on the hilt. "Perfect." His eyes flick up. "Now, I'm going to try to take it off you, and you're going to stop me. No rules."

"Okay." I tighten my grip on the hilt as he steps in close.

I back up half a step, angling my body away from him when he tries to knock it out of my hand.

A smile lurks in his eyes. "Good."

He reaches for the knife again. I use my left shoulder to force him away.

The smile in his eyes grows. "Better."

Vaughn grabs for the knife. I trip him. He laughs as he stumbles, bumping into me. He's bigger, heavier than I am, but before I can do much more than wobble, he clasps my hips with both hands, stopping me from falling.

His hands are warm, and I'm wearing Lycra so his touch sears through fabric to the skin beneath.

And he's still holding me, even though I'm no longer falling.

His smile fades. When his eyes flick to my lips, I realize why doing this without Blaine isn't a good idea. I have a life I need to get back to, and Vaughn is very good at making me forget it. I can't let him.

Pulling away, I offer him the knife. "Here. Thanks. I appreciate the lesson."

After a moment's hesitation, he takes it. "If you ever want another one. I'm here."

"Sure."

But I won't make this mistake again. Self-defense lessons when it's just me and Vaughn are a bad idea. There is way too much attraction on both sides for them to end well.