Chapter 18 – Hit Me

Raine

I followed Cage through unknown hallways of the estate, until we reached a large gym.

Excitement ran through me.

He was going to teach me to fight!

Even though I was looking forward to spending more time with him, I couldn't help examining the new surroundings and cataloging the rooms and hallways, determining if any of them would be conducive for my future escape.

If Cage observed my extra attentiveness to the layout of the building, he didn't mention it. I doubted he noticed or maybe he just felt like I wouldn't try to leave. But I knew I was going to have to face the truth sometime – and definitely before an irreversible mating ceremony – that none of this was real. It was all based on Cage's ridiculously honorable, but misplaced senses of obligation and duty. And the longer I waited, the harder it was going to be to say goodbye. Of course, I wouldn't get the chance to say a real goodbye, because he seemed determined to keep me here, which meant I was going to have to sneak out and get far enough away, that he wouldn't be able to find me. Once I had access to my funds again, I could easily make that happen. I could disappear without a trace.

We entered a large room with every kind of work-out equipment, scattered in rows. To the side, there was a large ring for sparring matches. The mirrors on the walls made the room look even larger. I was in shape and fairly athletic, so curious to see what results Cage expected to get from our training. 

When we reached the center of a large area with a soft cushy floor, Cage turned to face me. "Okay, hit me."

I blinked. "What?"

"Just hit me."

Okay.

I reached my hand up to slap him.

He caught my wrist in mid-air, closed his eyes and sighed, "No, don't hit me like a girl, really hit me."

I narrowed my eyes.

I had taken an aerobics class once that included punching and strikes. I closed my fist and aimed for his chest. He caught my hand in mid-air again, this time examining the positioning of my fingers and thumb.

I humphed petulantly, "If you're never going to let me make contact with you, how am I going to learn anything?"

"You would like to make contact with me?" he smirked.

I rolled my eyes. "Right about now, I would like to kick your ass. Could that be arranged?"

"I would like nothing more," he purred. "Keep your wrist and arm aligned. Now try again."

I struck again, landing the punch squarely in his chest, which felt a little bit like hitting a brick wall. "Ow! Fuck, okay, maybe you shouldn't let me make contact with you."

His eyes shifted to concern as he contemplated. Then he disappeared and reappeared holding two cushioned mitts. He held one in each hand. "Here, hit these."

I didn't hesitate, striking hard with my left hand and immediately followed it with another hit with my right."

His eyebrows rose.

I smirked.

"Okay, again."

We repeated the process several times, with him showing me various ways to position my body and attack. After thirty minutes, we added in kicks. Another hour went by and I was sweating, but it felt fabulous to exercise my muscles and push my endurance.

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