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I pivot to his stride, my eyes trained on his. “Okay. So, what do you want to teach me then?”
“Mental control.” He attacks me without warning but I block his punch with my forearm.
“Bloody hell, Charlie! Give me a chance to prepare.” I step back, blinking at him. “Why do you want to teach me mental control?”
He tries to slap my face but I swerve his effort.
“Because,” he says, his gaze dark and focused, “I don't want you listening to anyone else around you when you're fighting.”
He snatches for my throat but I punch his hand away, keeping my legs slightly open for balance. I need my wits about me today, clearly.
“You don't want me listening to anyone?” I say, baffled.
“I noticed how quickly you stopped fighting when Maksim told you to kill James.” Charlie follows me around the ring, trying to dominate me with his presence, his neck a little hunched. “If James was out for blood that day, you'd be dead.”
Is he fucking kidding me? James would have needed more than that stupid moment of distraction to end me.
I'm insulted and getting pissed off.
Charlie swings for me with a straight front-jab. I catch his punch in one hand and clout him in the face with my other, adrenaline spiking in me.
He laughs, wiping a drizzle of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was vicious.”
“Vicious?” I yell, shaking out my hand, pain simmering in my bones. “You're trying to punch me! You said you wouldn't-”
Charlie ambushes me then and grabs the back of my neck with both hands. He forces me to bend over and tries to knee me in the face, letting out a deep groan with each assail. Growling in anger, I beat away his attacks with the heels of my palms, then I tackle him with my shoulder, putting him on his ass.
He's so fucking heavy to move it's physically taxing.
Dashing to my feet, I jump about and roll my shoulders, trying to warm up. I should have stretched out before fighting him today but I didn't anticipate this.
Charlie gets up and runs at me like a bull in a china shop. On instinct, I bob and weave, using up all the boxing ring space, escaping his strikes and booting away his kicks.
“What are you doing?” I yell, slapping his face with a loud,WALLOP!
“Training you.” He laughs, catching my next slap and bending my arm back.
“Ouch!” I sidekick behind his knee, knocking him over. He pulls me down with him. We fall with a bounce.
Rolling away, I leap to my feet, fisting and flexing my hands. Charlie merely takes his time getting up, still chuckling.
“What the hell are you laughing at?”
He gestures up and down my body with a steady hand, the smuggest grin on his face.
“I don't need any training from you, Charlie.” I point at him in anger. “I could keep up with you in my sleep.”
“Yeah, maybe you're right, but you're not focused when it comes to Maksim.”
I'm fuming.
“If Maksim says something-aargh!” I whack away his next punch. “I stop on instinct!” I don't mean to yell this so passionately, but I do.
We go back and forth like this for ages, Charlie really trying to put me down, chasing me around the ring. I'm dripping in sweat, and I'm glad that he is too, though he looks in his element.
I'm not.
This is supposed to be a friendly, right?
