Page 55 of Reckless: Collision

I walk up behind her, close enough to feel her heat but not quite touching. With deliberate movements, I spin her once before removing the blindfold. Her eyes meet mine, pupils dilated.

“Those are sharp as hell,” I tell her, holding her gaze. “Unravel it and use it as a weapon.” I step back before I do something stupid like taste the sweat on her neck. “Now pick out every weapon in this room.”

She turns in a slow circle, and I take the moment to appreciate how her leggings hug every curve. Training. We’re supposed to be training.

“The weights.” She points to the rack. “Both as projectiles and blunt weapons.”

“Good. What else?”

“Jump ropes can be used to strangle.” Her eyes catch on the equipment lined against the wall. “Resistance bands for the same. That pole from the chin-up bar could be removed and used as a staff.”

I step closer, letting my presence push her. “Faster. You don’t get time to think in a real fight.”

“The mirrors.” She spins toward them. “Break them for sharp edges. The foam mats could be a shield. Those wooden practice swords?—”

“Someone’s coming at you right now. What’s your first grab?”

Her hand shoots out, snatching the resistance band from the wall beside her. Smart. Quick. Efficient.

“Why that?” I press closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

“Because it’s silent.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and my alpha fixates on the movement. “I can garrote someone without making noise. No one expects it from a beta.”

“Good.” The praise comes out rougher than intended. “But you’re still thinking like someone who wants to run. Those bands can be used for offense too.”

“Show me.”

The invitation in her voice makes my cock throb. Two words shouldn’t sound that much like sin.

I take the band from her hands, our fingers brushing. “Attack me.”

She doesn’t hesitate, coming at me with a combination that would have dropped someone who didn’t have years of combat training. I let her get close—closer than I should—before snapping the band around her wrist and using her own momentum to spin her.

She ends up pressed against my chest, the band now wrapped around both her wrists, her back arched in a way that makes me want to bite her neck.

“See?” I growl against her ear. “Control your opponent’s movement. Make them submit.”

Her breath catches. “Is that what this is about, Alpha? Making me submit?”

The challenge in her voice makes my grip tighten. “This is about keeping you alive.”

“Sure it is.” She pushes back against me, and fuck, the friction sends fire through my veins. “Nothing to do with you being a control freak.”

“If I wanted to control you—” I spin her to face me, the band still keeping her wrists bound. “You wouldn’t be out of that basement.”

Those green eyes flash. “No? Then what do you want, Ryker?”

To bend you over this mat. To mark every inch of you. To make you beg.

“I want you to survive,” I say instead. “Now show me how you get out of this hold.”

Her eyes hold mine for a heated moment before she moves. The motion is pure grace—a twist of her body, a roll of her shoulders, and suddenly she’s free. The resistance band dangles from my fingers, still warm from her skin.

“Like that?” Pure innocence in her voice, but her smirk gives her away.

“Better.” I circle her again, assessing. “But you’re still telegraphing your moves. I saw that coming.”

“Did you?” She matches my circle, keeping the distance between us constant. Her confidence bleeds into her stance now—less defensive, more aware. “Seems to me like you’re the predictable one, Alpha.”

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