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“I know that.”

“They have no regulations about what they will and will not do to a woman.”

“Know that too.”

“You've got two advantages in a fight with a man. First, they won't expect you to fight back. Second, they're not taking you seriously, so use it.”

She rolls her eyes. “So look exactly the way they expect me to.”

“And you're small.” She draws in a breath. I hold up a hand. “That's not a criticism. It means you're faster.” I stop in front of her. “Drop your weight.”

“What does that mean?”

“Bend your knees. Get low. Like you're about to run, not like you're about to curtsy.”

She snorts. “I’ve never curtsied in my life.”

“Do it,” I snap. “And, aye, I believe that.”

She drops into it, knees bent, her weight back on her heels. Something shifts in her posture, like she already knows how to do this and was just waiting to be asked. “Now. If somebody tries to grab you from the front—” I reach for her wrist, and she twists out of it before I've closed my hand. I stop.

“How did you do that?”

“This isn't my first time taking self-defense.”

“Then why'd you ask me to teach you if you're such an expert?”

“Didn't say I was an expert. I said I wanted to brush up.”

I look at her. “How did you know what you just did?”

“My mother had a self-defense instructor come to the house when I was twelve.” A beat passes. “After the first time my father hit her.”

Something cold moves through me.

“Right. Do it again.” I reach for the same wrist. She twists, steps left, and drives the heel of her palm up toward my chin. She stops half an inch short. We stand there, and I blink. I can feel the heat of her hand near my jaw. Her eyes are bright, and her breathing's gone quick, like she's excited.

“Where'd you aim?” My voice is quieter.

“Nose,” she says. “Heel of the palm drives the bone upward. Causes immediate disorientation. Could make the eyes bleed if I did it just right.”

I'm fucking hard. Christ.

“Where'd your instructor say to aim?”

“Chin.” The corner of her mouth twitches. “Modified it a bit.”

“Did you now?” She drops her hand. I need to focus. Being this close to her makes it difficult.

“From behind.” I step around her before she can think about it. She's fast, I'll give her that. She ducks low and, before I've gotten a grip, drives her elbow back. It catches me sharp in the ribs. I drop my arm.

She looks at me for a long moment. Then she smiles, and her whole face changes with it, and that hits me harder than the elbow did.

“Again,” I tell her.

“You sure?”

“Again.”