Page 48 of The Enslaved Duet
“There are times in this life I cannot be there to protect you. It’s my duty to teach you how to help yourself, and I will teach you anything you need to know,” he told me calmly even though I could see the pulse going in his throat and the strain of his erection against his white trousers. “Because I am the only man of influence in your life.”
“You cannot be everything to me.”
“Can’t I?” he asked with a raised brow, looking every inch the haughty lord even half dressed as he was.
“I have a father, a brother, and friends. You are not the only man in my life of consequence.”
“I am. Your father is dead to you, just as he should be. I did that. Your brother is benefiting from a placement in Finborough Theatre at London. Who do you think pulled those strings? You never had any friends outside your family; don’t pretend otherwise. You were too pretty for the jealous village girls and too ripe for the boys to ignore as an object of lust.” He stepped closer and looked down into my face from his awesome height. “I am your Master, Cosima. Not just of your flesh, but of everything you hold dear.”
I wanted to cry for his kindness. I’d hated my father’s selfish destruction. I loved my brother enough to thank God or him for any favours toward Sebastian.
But I always wanted to rip out his throat because even as he so obviously manipulated me, it was working.
“It’s funny how people fight against the things they cannot change,” Alexander noted cruelly as he watched my internal struggle. “Why don’t you focus that lovely anger on defending yourself? At first, I want you to move on instinct, and then I will teach you some moves.”
He attacked before the last word was gone from the air.
My breath whooshed out of my body as he slammed me to the ground and pinned me there with his weight. I wriggled just enough to pull my leg up between his, then I curled my toes hard into balls.
He huffed with pain, letting me go just enough that I could push off his shoulders and remove my torso out from under his. Using them as leverage, I dragged one leg out and kicked him hard in the face.
His nose crunched slightly, and a bead of blood rolled out of his nostril.
I howled like a beast in triumph.
Alexander took advantage of my gloating to flip me on to my stomach and crawl on top of me, pinning my legs and arms to the floor so solidly, I felt nailed to the ground.
“Never let passion rule,” he advised against my damp neck. “It is cool minds that prevail.”
He let me up even though I liked the hot press of him against me, and to my surprise, he began to teach me. I learned how to subdue my attacker if he grabbed me from behind, if he took me to the ground on my belly, and if he held a gun to my temple. We practiced for well over an hour until both of us were slicked with each other’s sweat and our breaths worked through our lungs like billows.
“Come at me,” I dared him finally, crouched low with my hands loose at my sides ready to fight him.
“Winner gets to fuck the other,” Alexander parried.
He would win.
We both knew he would, and I doubted there would ever be a time—however often I practiced or proficient I became—that he wouldn’t beat me in a wrestling match.
This bet wasn’t about the impossibility of my victory. It was forcing me to acknowledge that I didn’t want to win.
I wanted him to.
“Deal,” I said, and then I pounced.
I swept one of his legs out from under him, then I went for his throat with a vicious punch. It was a cocky maneuver, which was why I decided to do it because I assumed Alexander would be looking for easier movements.
He was ready for anything.
I winced as he caught my fist and twisted, taking me to the floor with the pain, both of us on our knees, facing each other.
We blinked, suspended in the moment when a prey knew it was in the sights of its predator. And then he attacked.
I was pinned with my wrists to the ground and his heavy body straddling my belly in less than a heartbeat.
He’d taught me how to break such a hold, though, so I thrust my hips and jerked my arms down toward them, jerking him forward so sharply he nearly fell on his face.
Only, he was too quick and strong.
