Page 37 of Ruined By a Devil

Malachi puts it closer to me and makes to leave.

“Don't take too long. We have a long drive back,” he says quietly and turns away.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Malachi

As we pull into the driveway, Jade leans her head back against the leather headrest, her dark eyes tracking me in the dim dashboard light. “I’m exhausted. Can we start the training tomorrow?”

“No,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. “We start today.”

“But Malachi⁠—"

“See you downstairs in five minutes,” I say, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind me, leaving no room for a debate she isn't going to win.

Ten minutes later, Jade steps into the private gym in the basement. She’s swapped her outfit for dark leggings and a fitted tank top, her long hair pulled back into a high braid. She looks sharp, elegant, and completely out of her depth.

I’ve shed my suit jacket and tie, rolling my shirt sleeves up to my elbows and spent the rest of the time warming up and planning the training session. I’ve never trained a woman before, mostly because we don’t have any close female relatives and I have never had anyone I cared about enough to train her.

I stand in the center of the black mats, watching her cross her arms over her chest as she stops a few feet away. “I don't see why I need to learn how to throw a punch when I have you and a small army of guards,” she says, her tone dry, trying to mask the quiet fatigue in her posture. “Isn’t the whole point of getting married for you to keep me safe?”

“Guards can fail,” I tell her, my voice calm. “And I might not be there when you need me.

“But—”

I cut her off again, not in a mood to argue about her safety. “If someone puts a hand on you, I want you to be able to protect yourself before I finish them.”

She narrows her eyes, but she doesn't argue further. “Fine. Then teach me.”

“First, we have to start with your stance,” I say, stepping into her space. “Drop your hands down.”

Jade hesitates before letting her arms fall to her sides. She’s standing too narrow, her feet practically aligned, her center of gravity dangerously high. One sharp shove would put her flat on her back.

I step up directly behind her and the faint scent of her perfume mixes with the cool air of the gym immediately. I place my hands firmly on her hips, my thumbs digging slightly into the bone. I feel her body go rigid, her breath catching instantly. The memory of holding her against the fitting room mirror hours ago flashes in front of my eyes and I push it away.

“Widen your feet a little,” I murmur near her ear, my hands physically forcing her legs apart until her stance is shoulder-width. “Bring your right foot back and keep your weight balanced. If you're top-heavy, you're dead.”

“I'm not top-heavy,” she mutters, though she adjusts her weight.

“Hands up,” I command and she does as I say, raising her fists, but her knuckles are loose, her elbows flaring out wide like an amateur.

I step around to face her, leaning in until there’s barely six inches of space separating our chests. I reach out and wrap my fingers around her forearms, forcing her elbows in tight against her ribs. Her skin is warm, her pulse pounding hard where my thumb rests against her wrist.

“Protect your ribs and protect your chin,” I say, tapping her cheek lightly with two fingers. “Don't stare at my hands, look at my eyes.”

Jade raises her chin, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a sharp, defiant heat. “Are we going to stand here like we’re taking photos, or are you going to let me hit you?”

Amusement passes through me briefly, gone before she can catch it. “Throw a straight right,” I say, stepping back just enough to give her room. “Don't hesitate.”

She doesn't. To give her credit, she throws her full weight into the strike, aiming straight for my jaw. It’s very fast for a beginner, but it’s a beginner move. I don't even have to step back, I simply tilt my head half an inch to the left, letting her fist slip harmlessly past my cheek, then catch her wrist in my open palm, trapping her momentum.

Before she can pull back, I yank her forward. She stumbles into my chest, her front flattening against mine, her gasp lost against the collar of my shirt. I wrap my free arm around her waist, locking her in place, my hand gripping her hip hard enough to anchor her.

“You flared your shoulder,” I say, my voice completely steady while her chest heaves against mine. “I saw it coming before your foot left the floor.”

“Let go,” Jade demands, her breath hot against my collarbone as she uses her hand to push against my chest.

“No,” I say, tightening my grip just enough to remind her how completely trapped she is. “Do it again. But this time, keep your guard up when you strike.”