Page 10 of The Savage

As I sip the much needed pick me up I glance critically around the depressing space. I don’t even want to touch the settee with any part of my body, so decide to clean up this apartment at least.

Luckily, I find something that will do the job and set about my task more as a distraction than anything.

There is nothing here to provide any entertainment, no radio, no tv, or books, so I hum as I work, trying to bring sound to a deadly silent space.

“Why are you so happy?”

An angry growl startles me as I wipe down the windows and spinning around, I see the savage running his fingers through his scalp, apparently extremely pissed in every way.

“I’m British, you bastard. I make do and mend and try to make the best of a bad situation.”

He snorts in derision and sinks down heavily on the couch.

“I suppose this is a day for firsts.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m guessing you don’t clean much.”

“I can clean.” I stare at him with indignation, and he shrugs. “Cook then. I bet you have a chef to prepare your fancy meals.”

“I can cook too.” I stand facing him with my hands on my hips and scowl. “You think I’m some kind of pampered princess who can’t care for herself. Well, breaking news, you kidnapped me from a frigging finishing school and what the fuck do you think they teach there?”

“How to swear, perhaps.” He fires back and I curl my lip in disgust. “You bring out the bad-assed bitch in me, so deal with it.”

He laughs out loud. “Don’t you mean bad–arsed bitch? You are English, after all. Then again, perhaps we should re-title that the red–arsed bitch. I’m guessing yours is still dealing with the imprint of my hand.”

“Do you want to fight me?”

I toss aside my cleaning spray and cloth and stand facing him with a scowl on my face. “Because if you do, I am an expert in karate and taekwondo.”

That gets his attention, and he looks up, a spark flaring in his eyes.

“You can fight?”

“I can. Care to try.”

In a flash, he’s on his feet and my mouth dries when I see the challenge in his eyes. Thinking back on my carefully constructed classes with our teacher, I’m not sure my skills are up to brawling at base level, but I’m willing to give it a go.

“OK.”

He grins and advances slowly, standing before me with an amused grin.

“Take your shot.”

I shrug out of my school blazer and rip off my tie and nod before bowing to him, as we have been taught to do.

His low laugh makes me bristle with anger and as I aim my first kick at his head, he steps aside and says in a bored voice, “Is that the best you can do?”

As I swing my body around, I take another aim and he catches hold of my ankle in his strong grasp, flipping me onto my back and sitting astride me, holding both of my hands above my head.

“You call that fighting.” His lip curls and I bring my knee up and try to dislodge him, but he is heavier than me and merely laughs.

“You’re pathetic and your teacher should be fired, because if that’s the best they taught you, you fail.”

He shifts off me and stares down with disappointment.

“For a moment there I thought we could amuse ourselves with the martial arts. Maybe you should go and bake a cake instead.”

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