Page 40 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

I roll my eyes and bite back a smile. “They don’t know aboutBumper. They know he was a bad influence, but not about—”

“What an abusive, nauseating, dumber than a brick, conniving piece of shit he is?” he finishes.

“That about sums it up,” I nod. “But I thought you all were in a truce?”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t hate everything to do with the Hell Princes,” Caleb says flatly. “I may not be technically allowed to freely punch them all in the face, but I can dream about it.”

Everything to do with the Hell Princes. I am not under any illusions. I know that includes me.

He stands tall and cracks his knuckles, the pops echoing off the room’s high ceilings. “We should get started.”

Caleb walks around the large couch and begins shoving the rest of the furniture in the room aside. He slides a large wooden coffee table against the far wall in front of a picture window and kicks aside a few tufted footrests.

In less than a minute, there is an open area of carpeted space in the center of the room, and he waves me into it with a quick flick of his wrist.

“First things first, you need to tell me why you need to fight,” he says.

I feel exposed standing in the middle of the room with him, and nerves flutter in my stomach. I cross my arms to steady myself. “I already told you.”

“It has to do with Bumper, I know. But knowing why you want to fight will determine how we train. Are you planning to attack him unawares in a street fight? Do you want to call him out at an underground fight?” My eyes widen at the suggestion, and Caleb shrugs as if my business is my own before he continues. “Or are you looking for basic defense training?”

“The last one.”

Caleb sucks in his cheeks, the hollows beneath his cheekbones deepening, and then mumbles, “About time.”

“Do we need to talk about this before we start?” I ask, throwing my arms wide. “It seems like we might need to clear the air.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. “The air is crystal clear from where I’m at. I’m good.”

I know he’s lying, and there is so much I want to say, but instead, I shrug. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. I have to be home soon.”

Caleb nods, and immediately, the anger in his face is gone. He is all focus.

“We’ll with some basic self-defense moves,” he says. “You have basically no muscle at all, so we will definitely lift some weights and work on building up your strength, but even with your noodle arms, you can defend yourself.”

I frown at the insult, but Caleb doesn’t react.

Instead, he lunges forward and grabs my shoulders.

Instinctively, my entire body freezes up. My heart leaps into my throat, and my lungs feel like rocks in my chest.

Caleb shakes his head and lets go, backing away.

The second his hands are off me, my internal organs begin functioning again. “We need to work on that, too. You can’t freeze up like that.”

“It’s instinctual. When it comes to fight or flight, I’m flight,” I admit. I don’t add that the fact that he’s the one doing the touching makes things a hundred times worse.

“Except, you aren’t,” he says. “You didn’t try to run or fight back. You froze up. You went perfectly still. That’s the worst option of them all.”

Caleb resets and then lunges for me again. This time, I manage to keep breathing, though that doesn’t exactly help.

Now his hands are on me, and I can smell the warm, lemony scent of him beneath the overwhelming bodywash.

It isn’t exactly helping me focus.

“Better,” he says. “When someone attacks you from the front, you want to go straight for the crotch. Man or woman, getting hit there is a shock to the system. It’s worse for men, obviously, but a blow to the cooch is still going to slow a lady down.”

“Cooch,” I repeat with a breathy laugh.

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