Alpha Lion: BBW Lion Shifter Paranormal Romance (5 page)

He returned quickly, holding two short wooden rods. “We don’t have any real nightsticks here, and next time I’ll remember to ask you to bring your own, but we can go over some basic moves with these. Since you have a weapon, you should really know how to use it.”

“Sounds good.” She took the stick he handed her. “The other night I got in one good hit with it—” She remembered how satisfying it had been when the stick connected with the guy’s stomach—“but I was mostly afraid they were going to take it away from me.”

“That’s the trouble with having a weapon but no training,” Dale said seriously. “It just becomes your opponent’s weapon. Your weapon should be working for
you
.”

“Okay,” she said. For some reason, the way he said
your weapon
was…really hot. She tried to ignore it, and held up her stick. “How do we make this work for me?”

“First, if you’re not using it but you want it ready, hold it up resting against your shoulder.” He demonstrated, with the stick back on his right shoulder, and she copied him. “That way, it’s not out for your opponent to grab—unless he’s behind you, watch out for that—and you’ve got it ready to swing with enough space to get momentum.”

“Got it.”

“Now, in this position, when you swing, you’re already building up power. You want to swing it forward, pretty hard, and then follow through by bringing it up to your opposite shoulder.”

He demonstrated—the stick made a high-pitched
swish
noise as it came down, and then up across his chest to his left shoulder.

Sam concentrated hard on the movement of the stick…instead of how broad his chest was, how powerful his shoulders were, or how big his hand looked on the stick compared to hers.

“Now you’re in a position to swing it again immediately, from a backhand position,” Dale continued, and demonstrated the swing in the opposite direction, bringing the stick back to his right shoulder when he was done. “See?”

Sam nodded. “I see.”

“Okay, give it a try.”

Sam swung the stick down from her shoulder as hard as she could, finished the swing up at her left shoulder, and reversed it. She was surprised at how much momentum and strength she felt just from a wooden stick.

“Nice power and speed,” Dale approved, coming over to her. “Really good. The angle of your swing needs a little adjusting, though—may I?”

“Sure.” Sam inhaled as he came closer and caught his scent—something faintly spicy and very masculine. Then he took her hand—almost enveloping it, his hand was so much bigger.

“Right now, you’re swinging it like a tennis racket,” he mimed it with her hand, “which is understandable, but makes it much, much easier for someone to knock it out of your hand.”

He brought his left hand around her body and met the swing with it. His hand knocked the stick askew, almost out of her grip.

Of course, that could also have been because he
had his arms around her
, and was murmuring in her ear, and it was making it hard for her to concentrate. She tried to focus and keep her breathing steady.

He’s not interested
, she reminded herself.
He’s just being nice. He’s teaching you something, pay attention!

But oh, he smelled so
good
.

“Instead,” he said, his breath tickling her cheek, “you want to swing it like a knife. Pretend you’re trying to hit something with the sharp end of the blade, not the flat side of it.”

He brought her hand gently back to her shoulder and started another swing, this time straight out forward towards an invisible target.

His fingers held hers in a warm grip, and this time he followed through on the swing, brought the stick up to her left shoulder—now literally holding her wrapped in his arms, just for a second—and then guided her through the backhand swing. His muscled chest was pressed up against her back.

Sam was considering nominating herself for sainthood, because the fact that she was still facing forward, that she hadn’t turned around in his arms and pulled him down for a kiss, was definitely a miracle.

“Do you have it, or do you want me to run you through it one more time?” he said into her ear, his voice a low, warm rumble.

“…One more time,” Sam said faintly. She wasn’t kidding; she didn’t know how much she’d picked up from that at all.

“No problem,” he said, and she couldn’t see him, but she thought he was smiling.

* * *

It was incredibly hard to make himself let go of Sam and get her to practice on her own, but Dale managed it.

Mostly, he managed it by telling himself that he wasn’t going to be the creepy instructor. He kept a careful eye on any new instructors at the studio, even members of the pride, to make sure that no one was taking advantage of any of the female students. He’d never once been tempted to do so himself.

But Sam…it was hard to stop touching her. It wasn’t only that she was gorgeous, that her curves and her soft skin felt so amazing, it was that touching her felt
right
.

And he was sure she’d leaned back into him a little when he had his arms around her. She’d turned her face toward him when he’d been speaking into her ear, and he’d wanted to kiss her temple, nuzzle down her ear to her neck, where her scent was stronger, and just inhale her.

He hadn’t, obviously. He had some self-control. But he’d wanted to.

“Good,” he said, as he watched Sam practicing her swing. “That looks really good.” Sometimes women were hesitant to put their full strength into exercises, but Sam didn’t have that problem.

Of course, she knew that she might have to use her full strength to defend herself.

“Okay, stop for a second,” he said, jogging over to the corner to get a practice pad.

He came back and set himself up in front of Sam. She waited, the stick up on her right shoulder, at the ready.

“I want you to try and hit me, right here.” He slapped the pad over his forearm.

She eyed him dubiously. “What if I miss?”

“You won’t miss. Come on.” Judging by Sam’s precision so far, there was no way she wouldn’t hit the big target the practice pad presented.

“Okay,” she said, and swung, no hesitation.

The stick
thwacked
against the pad with a solid impact, and without having to be told, she followed through up to her left shoulder and came right back with a backhand.
Thwack
.

Dale grinned. She was such a fast learner. “That’s great. If you hit an attacker like that, he’s not going to be using that arm to attack you anymore.”

“What if there’s more of them?” she asked. He could see the fear peeking through her eyes.

She’d probably been worrying about this all night, that if she successfully used any of the techniques she was learning on one man, she might still be vulnerable if there were more.

“They’re likely going to be surprised that you know how to defend yourself,” he said. “It’s a stereotype, and it’s a dumb one, but most guys don’t think that a woman could hold her own against them. If some guys are after you and you break one of their arms, well, that guy’s going to be pretty loud about it, and everyone’s going to be taken aback. Take advantage of that moment and run.”

She nodded seriously.

He hated that she had to ask these questions. It was heartbreaking that any woman would have to be worried about four men coming after her on the street, but that it was
Sam
…

He wanted to offer her the administrative position they were hiring for at the studio on the spot, but Lynn would crucify him. The job was really Lynn’s assistant, so she was the one overseeing the applications.

Maybe now that she’d met Sam, she’d consider it, though.

“Come at me again,” he said, to distract himself from thinking about things that probably wouldn’t even happen. “Harder this time.”

She didn’t hesitate at all this time, and the stick
thwacked
solidly against the pad, right in the center of his forearm.

“You’re a natural,” he said. “Again.”

She was so beautiful like this—determined and focused, coming right at him with purpose and force. She was stronger than she looked, and comfortable enough in her body to use every ounce of that strength against him.

“You’ll be a hell of a fighter if you stick with this,” he said quietly, after she’d hit him again and come back to the ready position.

“Don’t just say that,” she said, breathing hard.

“I don’t lie,” Dale said, a little offended. “I wouldn’t just say something like that unless I meant it.”

“But I’m not—”
Now
she looked uncomfortable, shifting a little from foot to foot. “In shape.”

She probably meant that she was curvier than the current fashion for stick-thin models. Dale wanted to tell her she was gorgeous, but that wasn’t what she was asking about. “You’re more in shape than you think you are,” he said instead. “You’re not weak by any means. And that’s not what I meant, anyway.”

“What did you mean?” She relaxed a little.

“You have a good sense of where you are in space,” Dale said. “You’re precise in your strikes, and you hardly ever put a foot wrong. It’s much harder to learn that than it is to build up arm muscles.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Thanks,” she said, and immediately changed the subject to, “Should I keep practicing the strike?”

“I think you have it down,” Dale said, “although you should definitely keep practicing on your own, until it’s second nature. Maybe next week we can work on trying it on a moving target. For now, maybe we could practice a little of what Lynn taught you to do? She’s a great teacher, but one thing she’s not is a tall man.” Lynn usually had him come into a few of her class sessions to play the attacker, anyway.

“Sure,” Sam said. “We mostly worked on what to do if a guy comes at you from the front.”

“Let’s do that, then.” Dale set himself up in a stance opposite her again. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she said, and he came up to her, moving in to grab her shoulder.

She had a hand up and going for his eye almost faster than he would’ve been able to block. “Good!” he said, stepping back. “Try again.”

This time, he was prepared, and when she went for his eye, he grabbed her wrist.

She twisted it around like Lynn would’ve shown her—but at the same time, her heel came gently down on his foot.

He let her go. “That’s impressive,” he said. “The hardest part of all this isn’t learning the moves, it’s putting them into practice at speed and with a real opponent. I wouldn’t have expected a new student to be able to use two moves at once like that.”

She nodded. “That’s what Lynn said. That we have to practice these over and over again, because otherwise we won’t remember how to do them in a real fight situation. I’m sure if you were a real attacker I would’ve had a harder time.”

“Even in a practice situation, that was better than most people would’ve done,” he said. “Good job, honestly.”

“Thank you.” She was blushing again.

“Let’s try some more,” he said, trying to avoid making her uncomfortable.

The problem was, the moves that Lynn went over in the very beginning classes involved him getting up close into Sam’s space, trying to grab her or push her against a wall or knock her to the ground.

And Sam was flushed with exercise, her hair curling around her forehead and her chest heaving as she breathed, and Dale had to keep getting in close to her, touching her wrist, her shoulder, her hip, her neck…

It was good he was used to maintaining control over his body, was all.

Finally, he put her down onto the mat and had her try to get away. He’d thought about skipping this move, because it involved them getting
very
close, but he wasn’t going to be so irresponsible as to neglect Sam’s self-defense readiness just because he was turned on.

But having her spread out beneath him, pinning her shoulders,
feeling
her chest heave instead of just looking at it—

“Okay,” he said, and he knew his voice was coming out more like a growl, but he couldn’t help it. “Fight me off.”

Sam started to squirm and twist her arms, and he was about to remind her that tugging at his grip like that wasn’t going to do anything—when he felt her knee right between his legs.

“I’m going to assume that if I followed through, I’d be successfully fighting you off,” she said, with a smile curving her lips.

She was
teasing
him. She was normally so quietly serious, with most of her humor being wry or self-deprecating. Seeing that sparkle in her eye as she pressed her leg
right
up against his hardening cock—it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He bent down and kissed that teasing smile, and the moment he tasted her, he knew there was no going back.

Sam kissed him back immediately, her mouth opening under his. She deftly twisted a hand free and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling his body down to hers.