Gifted Connections 4 - Page 75

“You can be so damn stubborn,” Troy muttered fondly as he helped me wrap my hands. Then he placed my thin foam helmet over my head. He knew my limitations. We worked hard to become more proficient in the art. We even lightly sparred yesterday. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t treat me like a girl and didn’t go easy on me. He certainly wasn’t putting all of himself in his matches with me, but he undeniably made me work for it.

“I learned from the best.” I smiled impishly up at him.

“The moment she fights dirty, I’m ending the match, with or without your permission,” Remy clenched his jaw in displeasure.

“Okay, let’s go,” Henderson had a mixture of respect and exasperation in his eyes as he looked at me. “Adams, I know you have trained for many, many years—” Henderson began.

“Since I was four,” Adams interrupted as she swept her long dark hair back into a ponytail. She gave me a superior look.

I was new to all this, but with the help of Troy and my natural athleticism, I was able to pick it up reasonably well.

“So you know how to exercise control,” Henderson finished, clearly displeased by her interruption. At her unrepentant nod, he continued. “Her left arm is to be left untouched. If you so much as graze it, you will be immediately ejected, and I’ll give you additional duties for a month to include no more sparring in that time period.”

Adams nodded as she stared at me with determination. “Understood.”

I knew she was out for blood. She hated to be made a fool of in front of others. She had underestimated me the first time we had been matched up. She wouldn’t this time.

I shook out my limbs and gave her a relaxed smile, hoping to infuriate her. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by her. Even if she won this time, it was because of my lack of experience not my lack of heart.

“Fist bump,” Henderson instructed.

I held out both of my fists and tapped them to hers as the whistle blew. I had done my homework. Homework she probably wouldn’t have done or thought of. Little did she remember, all our training sessions in this room were recorded. If requested, you could sign out the footage of any given day and time. In between school work, watching movies, sleeping, and practicing on my guitar- when my hands and arms let me- I had plenty of days of bed rest to review all her previous matches. Troy and I had taken notes.

I was ready for her.

She immediately went on offense and came in with some double roundhouse kicks. She landed her attack on my right side, but I was ready for her left foot as I blocked it. Carried on with my momentum, I did a back-hook kick to her head, followed immediately by a roundhouse kick to her side. I generally hated hitting people in the head, but Troy had gotten me over my misgivings. He helped me learn how to control the power of my kicks with a dummy and targets. I was no longer afraid I would hurt someone accidentally.

I was small, but I was told several times I had power in my legs. I may never be able to cause any actual damage to a person of Remy’s or Terrance’s size, but they would know I had hit them.

I saw I had surprised her too, which secretly pleased me. Before the break, I was too afraid to even try any kicks beside the basic ones and a few advanced ones. Troy had patiently worked on some of the technically advanced moves with me until I felt comfortable and my muscles committed them to memory. I had more tricks up my sleeves then she knew.

I don’t doubt she had commenced her regular training. I knew she put extra time into her practice almost daily. I couldn’t deny how graceful, pretty, and powerful she was in her art. She just suffered from arrogance and overconfidence.

We continued to parry back and forth. For every point, I scored she answered and vice versa. We were evenly matched, and she was getting frustrated.

“Now, Blake,” I heard Troy call as I feigned and rolled from one of her attacks. I preferred defense, honestly. It usually tired her out. However, I noticed immediately that she must have been working on her endurance since we last sparred.

I hesitated for too long. Surprise had me barely registering the ax kick she gave to my right arm. I doubled over at the pain that radiated up my limb. She was using a more force than necessary. Taking advantage of the fact that I dropped my guard, she landed another powerful kick to my side. I felt the wind leave me, but I tried to not let it show on my face.

I was never so thankful to hear the whistle blow. I tried to take long deep breaths into my lungs.

“Dial it back,” Henderson warned Adams as she went to her corner.

“I am,” Adams said in wide-eyed innocence. “I’m not hurting you am I, Thomas?”

I gritted my teeth and shook my head as I retreated to my corner.

“Adams,” Henderson said in warning.

“Yes, sir,” Adams said contritely.

She was so full of crap, and I knew it. She felt no remorse.

“Don’t be foolish, Blake,” Remy bit out as he handed me my bottle of water. “You have nothing to prove.”

“No,” I breathed heavily, finally able to breathe somewhat normal once more. You wouldn’t think two minutes was that long until you were stuck in a ring for that trying to evade and attack someone. “I don’t have anything to prove, you’re right, but this is a great way to get rid of some of the frustration I’m feeling.”

“I can think of better ways for you to burn off extra frustrations,” Jaxson said suggestively as he wiped me down with his clean towel.

Tags: S.M. Olivier Gifted Connections Fantasy
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