Page 37 of Seduce & Destroy

We threw each other silent glances during the day but it was only at night that our mouths started running. And I mean both in the talking sense, and the kissing sense. Though, I wished for more. Never in my life had I felt more validated and confident of my sexuality as now. I ached for that next step of intimacy, and I wanted it with Kenna. I almost panted at the thought.

I had snuck down to the service maids’ quarters to find some candles and a lighter in preparation for tonight. But I got accosted by Grant, who ran in my direction, commanding that I take over the last hour of training as he had just received word of a situation with his daughter.

For sympathies sake, I had withheld my eye roll, but my romantic plans were put on the backburner as it had done my entire life so far. The only reprieve of this was that I could have an hour to gawk at Kenna, unabashedly. What? I’m only doing my job. Supervising!

Grant hadn’t told me, however, that the last lesson of the day was gun handling. The very sight of them made me uncomfortable, not to mention the sounds and smell that would stick with me for a while. I loathed the mark it would leave.

Heads turned when I walked in the room, and I hoped they couldn’t sense the tremors of anxiety that I concealed just below my skin. I found Kenna instantly, looking relaxed, shoulders back, and legs spread in a confident stance. Her calm calmed me, so I mimicked her, channelling her courage as if it were my own.

The weapon of choice today was a simple handgun.

I cleared my throat loudly to the group. “This.” I lifted a gun in the air, the rattle of a clip thankfully missing. “This is a Colt-911 handgun. Do not point at anything you don’t intend to shoot. On this premise, gun handling and aiming must be done with appropriate clearance. Today is practice, you have my permission.” I asserted, with a booming voice. “Before you are handed a gun, I will assess your outward capability. I trust you are confident in this role as you have been hired in it, but this kind of weapon must be treated with serious caution. If I catch even a smirk on your face, you will be asked to leave.” I ended my spiel with a nod and hoped for no trouble in this session. I didn’t often trust men, yet, I had to have faith that these men would listen to my word. “Line up!”

The first guy in line appeared giddy, bouncing from foot to foot. “Nope,” I said and pointed toward the door. His shoulders slumped, softened eyes hard on mine for me to reconsider. Fat chance. “Please, leave.”

The second guy walked slowly. He was buff and, without wavering, extended a hand to place a weapon in it. “Position one,” I told him and pointed toward the row of targets along the wall.

As I moved down the line of men, I was keenly aware that Kenna had placed herself at the back of the queue. Two cadets were sent away. Eight were given the go ahead.

I looked the final cadet up and down, unabashed.

“Saving the best till last?” She joked but with a severe look on her face while accepting the gun I had placed in her hand.

Her eyes seemed to light up at the weight of the thing. I cringed. Her exuberant confidence was one thing behind closed doors, but it was dangerous in combat. I trusted her. I think. Don’t make me regret this.

“Position ten.” I directed.

She hadn’t yet looked up from the weapon. When she did, I melted. “Okay, Miss,” she replied in a whisper.

It took me too long to compose myself. I raised my voice in faux confidence. “Alright, target practice is about posture and positioning more than aim. Observe my stance and assume the right position, right foot forward…”

After a series of instructional demonstrations, the line of cadets stood in position, ready to shoot. I had given each of them only one bullet, so the aim had to be good.

“Ear protectors and glasses on! On ‘shoot’. Ready?”

I counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

Shoot.

I flinched at the sound of ten gunshots bouncing off each wall. My ears began to ring despite my protective headgear, and I so badly wanted to be anywhere else.

When the dust settled and the cadets could assess their shots, a chorus of reactions filled the room. Some boasting, others let out a big sigh. But Kenna was quiet. I walked toward her to see where her shot landed. A fraction of an inch away from the bullseye. Damn.

I looked at her then. She was in a leather jacket again, with black cargo trousers and a white vest that clung to her breasts and skin. Her hair was half tied up at the back and loose silver chains hung from her ear, similar to the ones that swung from the loop of her jeans.

“Almost.” I said and I handed her a single bullet for the next round of target practice before turning on my heel to go down the line to distribute the ammunition again. Even when I announced the second round, I still grimaced at the noise.

Many improved on the second go but looking toward Kenna’s target I spotted the margin of error again as the shot missed the bullseye by less than an inch.

So, before round three, I came up behind her and moulded my body to her back, leg to leg, arm on arm, and both our fingers on the trigger. Her eyes followed the slight adjustments I made to her posture. I was going to ensure success for her.

It wasn’t entirely selfless, though, I revelled in her warmth and breathed in her fresh perfume. “Ensure you align your dominant eye with the position of your gun. Like this.” I nudged her arm a fraction to the right, centring her stance.

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