Storm (Elemental 1)

He smiled back, but his eyes were serious. “Don’t let go this time. Break free, but hold on to me.”

“Why?”

“Keep me close so you can hurt me. So you can knee me in the stomach.” Now he gave her a rakish smile. “Or lower.”

They practiced breaking choke holds until she mastered that. Then he showed her how to pin an attacker’s forearms to her chest, to control his movement so she could be the aggressor. He showed her the strength in her joints, how an elbow or a knee in the right place could cause more damage than she’d ever thought possible.

Sweat collected under the spill of her hair. At first she’d thought Hunter was going easy, but then she saw the sheen of sweat on his forehead as they moved faster. This was nothing like the self-defense class—she felt sharper, fierce in a way she’d never anticipated.

For the first time in a long while, she felt powerful.

Darkness crept up on them, sneaking over the hill to throw Hunter’s features into shadow. She couldn’t hear children on the playground anymore. Casper had long since fallen asleep on the blanket.

“It’s late,” said Hunter.

“What, did you run out of things to show me?”

He grimaced and bent to shake out the blanket. “I might have to show you how to walk back to the pet store. Do they gate the entrances to parks around here?”

Becca gathered their trash. “I think we’ll be okay. It’s not full dark yet. They usually drive around and warn people.”

She was right. The gates were still open, but they got a stern glare and a warning from the gate attendant. “Sundown means sundown, kids.”

“It’s her fault,” said Hunter, pointing at the passenger seat. “She had me in a choke hold.”

Becca laughed as he drove off, loving the feel of the wind in her hair, the sudden chill in the air cooling her cheeks. Loving the easy company by her side.

This is what it’s supposed to be like.

She turned her head to look at Hunter. “Thanks.”

He glanced away from the road long enough to meet her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“You know more than just ‘a little,’ ” she said. “Are you, like ... a black belt in karate or—”

He snorted, and it sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “No.”

“Then how do you know all that stuff?”

He was silent for a moment, air whistling through the open cab of his jeep.

“People used to screw with me,” he finally said. “When I was younger, I got a lot of crap. My father—he told me there were two options: I could learn to defend myself, or I could suck it up.”

Harsh, she thought.

Hunter must have seen the look on her face. “No, Dad was right.” He hesitated. “He taught me.”

Becca held her breath, unsure how to proceed. His words didn’t seem broken as they had a few hours ago. Maybe doing something physical had loosened something in him, too.

“Is it martial arts?” she said.

“Not really.” He glanced over. “It’s called Krav Maga. Heard of it?”

She shook her head and whispered the phrase. Krav Maga. It sounded exotic and violent and lethal.

“It’s for self-defense,” Hunter said. “With the purpose of taking your enemy down instead of running away.”

“I love it.”