Page 117 of Taming Seraphine

Leroi takes me downstairs so I can get dressed and then serves a brunch of a Spanish tortilla with a huge green salad. Afterward, we go to one of his apartments on the floor below. Thick black mats carpet the floor and mirrors cover an entire wall.

My gaze wanders across an array of free weights, exercise machines, and punching bags on stands. “What is this place?”

“This is where Miko and I exercise when it’s raining.” Leroi gestures around the room. “And it’s where you’ll build lean muscle and burn off some of your excess energy.”

“But I’m not energetic.”

He turns to me with his brow raised.

I stare back. The handler Dad hired to train me provided a cross trainer machine so I could get enough cardio while still chained to the wall, and he also made me do body weight exercises. If I didn’t perform my quota of reps, he activated the collar. The thought of that creepy old guy making another girl exercise braless makes me want to electrocute his eyes until they explode into sparks.

Leroi takes my shoulder and walks me to a punching bag on a stand. “Wait here.”

He disappears into a room and emerges with two pairs of boxing gloves.

“Put these on.” He shoves them into my hands. How did he know my size? “I’m going to teach you to punch. Whenever you’re feeling frustrated, I want you to come down here and work out your aggression.”

I slip on the gloves, and Leroi stands back, watching me smash my fists into the bag. I imagine pummeling Dad in the liver and making him cry for mercy. Dad morphs into Gregor, and then Gregor morphs into Samson. I’m so focused on revenge that the rest of the room disappears.

“You’ve got a good right hook,” Leroi says, jerking me out of my trance. “You need to work on your left.”

He stands behind me, adjusts my posture, and demonstrates the technique. The heat of his body envelopes mine, and the space fills with his masculine scent. Whatever he says disappears into the ether because all I can concentrate on is his presence.

“Now, try again,” he says.

I throw a punch with my left and glance at Leroi for approval. He shakes his head and returns to guide my movements. This time, when I try again, he gives me an approving nod.

“Good girl.”

The praise hits me straight in the clit, my cheeks flare with heat, and all my blood travels to the needy spot between my legs. Leroi folds his arms across his chest and gives me a look that communicates that he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Are you sure you don’t have excess energy?” he asks.

Scowling, I punch the bag again, imagining it’s him. What a dick.

“Did you adopt Miko?”

I deliver an uppercut to his imaginary face. In my mind’s eye, punching bag Leroi staggers backward at the force of my blow.

“No. Family isn’t always built on blood,” he says.

My gaze darts to the real Leroi before I return my attention to the bag. “What does that mean?”

“He asked me to take him away from his situation.”

A breath catches in the back of my throat. “Was he like me?”

Leroi’s features harden. “He wasn’t a prisoner, but he was in a bad place. I couldn’t refuse his request for help.”

“Why not?”

“Because when I was in a worse position, someone also took care of me.”

I nod, my throat thickening, my mind already conjuring up the scene of a boy standing over a dying man with a gun, the room spattered in blood. Leroi’s mentor would have strode in, strong and imposing and dressed in black, exactly as Leroi looked in the basement. The backs of my eyes sting, and I think of anything to change the subject.

“Did you teach Miko to be a hacker?” I try a high kick that makes the bag swing.

Leroi chuckles. “He came with computer skills. I only paid for the equipment to help hone his talent.”

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