Page 65 of Illicit Throne

“So,” I began, turning towards her. “Self-defense training?”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her gaze rose to meet mine, her dark eyes unreadable. “I think…it would help,” she finally admitted. “But I don’t want—“

“To be scared of me,” I finished for her, my voice barely above a whisper.

A small nod was all she gave me in response. The silence between us stretched on; it buzzed like electricity in the air.

“Let’s go back to the hotel. I can’t exactly beat you in public,” I said, winking at her.

She laughed, a soft sound that made my heart flutter. “Alright, then,” she said, shooting me a look that was filled with a mixture of anticipation and just the slightest hint of fear.

As we headed back in the direction of the hotel, I felt her fingers squeezing mine. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to let me know she was with me on this. We were in this together. I hoped, at least.

I barely paid attention to the town as Adriana and I walked back to the hotel. I could smell the beach nearby, and every now and then, she would stop and read from a historical plaque.

It was nice. It almost felt like a real date.

Twenty minutes later, we were back in our hotel room with the door locked, Adriana sitting on the bed and waiting for instruction, the typewriter set next to our suitcase. She looked beautiful in the sunlight, stray strands of hair lighting her up as if she was glowing.

I couldn’t focus on that right now, though.

She’d asked me to teach her something–and that was exactly what I was going to do.

“Okay,” I started, moving closer to her. “The first thing you need to know is how to escape if someone grabs you.” Kneeling beside her on the bed, I gently took her wrist in my hand. “If someone grabs you, like this,” I continued, tightening my grip on her wrist slightly, “you need to rotate your hand towards their thumb. It’s the weakest part of their grip.”

Adriana nodded, staring up at me with wide eyes. She cautiously moved her hand as I had instructed, and I eased my grip, allowing her to wiggle free.

“Good,” I praised her. “Now you try grabbing my wrist.”

She did as I instructed, her fingers wrapping around my wrist hesitantly.

“Now, remember what I showed you--rotate your hand towards the thumb,” I reminded her.

This time she was the one who eased her grip as I demonstrated how to escape from it. Her fingers were soft and warm against my skin, a stark contrast to the firm grip she had just moments ago.

We repeated this exercise a few times until she got the hang of it. “And then what?”

“Then you pull free using their thumb as the weak point,” I said. “And if your other hand is free, you can hit at a pressure point.”

I guided her other hand to my face, and her fingers splayed out across my cheek. I resisted the urge to lean into her touch.

That’s not what this was for.

“Thumb in the eye is always good,” I told her. I dragged her hand down to my neck. “Or strike the throat with the side of your hand.”

“Like a karate chop?” she teased.

I snorted. “Just like that.”

She stilled, her fingers just barely moving over my pulse.

“You’re doing so good, Ade,” I said.

She smiled at me, her gaze on my face. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. This is important,” I told her, making sure to hold her gaze. Her face was bathed in the soft glow from the bedside lamp, making her look even more beautiful than usual.

“I just…I just don’t want you to feel like you have to protect me all the time, Tristan,” she admitted quietly.

---