Page 52 of Savage Union

“You have to throw me off balance,” Turk instructed. “Bridge your hips and force me forward.”

“Uh…whatmy hips?” I asked, frowning.

It turned out that bridging just meant lifting my butt as far off the ground as I could and thrusting upwards with my hips. This caused Turk to fall forward and lose his grip on my wrists. In order not to overbalance and face-plant on the floor, he had to free my arms and catch himself with his palms.

“Good,” he said when I had mastered the first part of the move. “But remember, you’re still under me—under your attacker. You need to get out from under to get to safety.”

“Got it.” I started to wiggle away, but he shook his head.

“No—if I fall forward, my chest is in your face and you’re still pinned so you can’t get away. You need to grab me with your arms and thighs—wrap your legs around my midsection and squeeze—keep me off balance. Then you can roll and take me over. Once you’re on top, it’s safe to scramble up and run.”

We practiced this several times and I swore I could feel something hot and hard branding my belly when I wrapped my legs around his hips and pressed against him. Was that…what Ithoughtit was? I thought it might be, but neither of us acknowledged it.

I wondered—could his hardness be just a byproduct of the intense physical activity? Or did he feel something for me, even though he thought I was a man? Was he finally reacting to the fact that we were Fated Mates in close proximity to each other?

I pushed the thought away and kept going—what else could I do?

I can’t tell you how hard my heart was pounding during all this, but it wasn’t just from desire. Turk was a big guy—he was easily twice as heavy as I was—and probably ten times as strong. After the first few times, he didn’t just let me roll him—he made me work for it. By the time I finally got him flipped on my own, I was sweating and breathing hard.

“Good—that’s good,” he rumbled, sitting up. “But there’s one more technique I want to teach you. Back on the floor.”

I lay on my back again, waiting to see what he would do next. This time instead of straddling me, he got between my legs.

I bit back a gasp as he spread my thighs wide and pressed between them. With only inches between us, I could feel the heat of his body as he wrapped his big hands around my knees to keep me spread wide and hold me in place.

“This is pretty much the worst position you can be in,” he rumbled, looking down at me intently. “From here your attacker can choke you…” He leaned down to wrap one big hand around my throat, squeezing lightly. “Or do anything else he wants,” he added darkly, and I knew exactly what he meant.

“What…how can I get out of this?” I asked, my voice going high and squeaky.

“First, pretend to capitulate,” Turk instructed. “I know it may be hard, but act like you’re giving in—make the attacker think he doesn’thaveto hold you down. Then he’s more likely to release you and you’ll have more options to get free.” He nodded down at me. “Go on—do it.”

I could feel my face getting hot, but I had to do as he said.

“Please,” I begged softly, looking up into his bronze eyes. “Please, don’t hurt me. I…I’ll do anything you want—giveyou anything you want. Anything at all!”

“Gods!” His eyes blazed and he sat back for a moment, his fingers leaving my neck. I thought I felt something hot and hard brush against my crotch—was that his shaft? The light contactsent shivers down my spine and I was suddenly so hot and needy I was nearly panting.

“Turk—I mean, Captain?” I asked. “Are…are you okay?”

“Fine.” He ran a hand over his horns and shook his head. “But are you? Your cheeks are flushed and you sound out of breath.”

“I…I think I must still be feeling the effects of that alcohol we drank at dinner,” I said, trying to find a reason I was in the state I was in. “That, uh, what do you call it?”

“Thepunchin,”he finished for me. “What did yours taste like?”

“Well…like candied violets, of course. The same as yours, I imagine,” I said, trying to sound normal.

He shook his head, the overhead glows glinting off his bronze horns.

“No, that’s the funny thing aboutpunchin—it tastes different to everyone who drinks it.”

“What? But how?” I asked, mystified.

“It changes according to the drinker’s body chemistry,” Turk said. “It always tastes like peppermint to me.”

“Really? That’s so strange.” I was surprised and fascinated.

“Even stranger—if you taste thepunchinon someone else’s mouth, you get what it tastes like to them, because it’s already been changed by their chemistry,” he told me.

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