Page 12 of The Pakhan’s Forced Bride (West Coast Bratva Pakhans #3)

I tossed and turned all night, frustrated and embarrassed, wondering why Ardalion pulled away from the kiss. I have no idea how he managed to have the willpower to do that. Unless, of course—I guess it’s obvious—he wasn’t as affected by the kiss as I was.

It was written on his face afterwards.

He looked like he regretted it.

Like maybe he was embarrassed.

At the moment, I did the only thing I could do. I pretended it didn’t matter. I shrugged it off, composed myself, and made it look like the kiss didn’t mean anything to me, either. As though it were a silly mistake resulting from too much alcohol and a bad decision. Nothing more.

It wasn’t true, though.

And all through the rest of the party and dinner with him, and on the drive home, I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

It was magical. It was wild and spontaneous, and for a moment, I felt free. I felt bold and beautiful, like the main character in some romantic story.

But he pulled away.

So I couldn’t sleep, reliving the embarrassment over and over again. And then after a night of tossing and turning, he invited me to start training, and I couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than being that close to him while making a complete fool of myself.

But I proved my fears wrong.

It’s been three days since I started training.

I’m standing in the gym with gloves strapped to my hand, dressed in black gym tights and a top to match. I’m strong, capable, and doing so much better than I could have imagined.

Yes, the first day was a disaster. But Ardalion is surprisingly patient when it comes to teaching me.

He slowly repeats the same moves over and over again until I understand them.

He practices with me, taking my body and moving it to show me the patterns.

At first, I was like a fish with three left feet, totally out of my depth with no idea how to move like he does.

He makes it look so easy, his muscles rippling as he shows the incredible control he has over his body.

I was embarrassed, but I didn’t give up—mostly because he wouldn’t let me.

And now, halfway through today’s training session, I’m loving it.

“Yes, move left. Strike,” Ardalion shouts as I punch the pads strapped to his hands. He moves right, then left. “Duck,” he says, trying to tap me on the head, but I swing out of the way just in time and throw a very impressive uppercut against the opposite pad.

He laughs and jumps backwards.

“That was really good,” he says, suitably impressed. He tugs at the straps around his wrists and pulls the sparring pads off his hands, tossing them to the side.

“We can’t be done yet?” I grumble, scrunching my nose. My body feels alive and energized. I jump from left foot to right and back again.

“We’re not done,” he grins. “But we’re switching it up for the rest of the session. We’re going to do some defensive moves now. You’re getting good with the boxing and offense.”

“Defense?” I ask, nervously.

“Yes, I’m going to attack you, but I’ll show you how to get out of it.”

My heart somersaults imagining his brutish body, the massive bulk of him, coming at me. I wouldn’t stand a chance. Besides, would I really want to stop him from pinning me down, anyway? I picture his body pressing into mine and decide that I most definitely wouldn’t want to fight him off.

I giggle and bite at the Velcro, strapping my gloves in place. He steps forward, taking my hand to help free me from the gloves. “What’s so funny?” he asks.

“I don’t stand a chance against you.” I make a point of showing him how much taller he is than me by standing on my tiptoes and holding my hand up in the air.

“It’s not about the height,” he replies, shaking his head as he pulls my other glove off and tosses it to the ground with the sparring pads.

I take both hands and try to wrap them around one of his biceps. It doesn’t work.

Scrunching my face, I look at him as though I’ve proven my point.

He laughs, “It’s not about the muscle either, Belle. You’ll see. It’s about catching your opponent off guard and using their weight and strength against them. And any chance you have to distract your attacker, you use it to your advantage.”

I’m skeptical, but three days ago I would never have believed I could be so good at boxing, so I’m willing to give it my all regardless. What’s the worst that could happen? Ardalion pins me down?

I’m okay with that.

Ardalion hands me a bottle of water. We’re both covered in a sheen of sweat. He looks so damn good it’s hard to focus.

I follow him to the mats and wait while he explains to me what’s about to happen.

At first, he walks me through his attack in slow motion.

“Let’s say I come at you like this.” He steps close, his body pressed against mine. Heat flares between us. “And my goal is to tackle you to the ground. I’d swing my legs beneath you—" He sweeps one leg in a wide arc, kicking against my ankle.

“At that point you’d be on your back,” he explains.

I’m trying to focus, I really am, but his arm is around me as he dips me backwards and leans over me to show me how I’d fall. I can smell the fresh sweat on his skin, his cologne, his breath, hot against my cheek.

“What’s most important in this moment is not to panic, to be aware of my movements, and try to stay one step ahead of them.”

“How?” I ask, breathless. “You move so fast when it’s really happening.”

“Let’s practice. For now, you aren’t going to defend yourself, just watch me, pay attention to everything.”

He doesn’t come flying at me, but it’s still daunting.

Every time he knocks me to the floor, I get more annoyed. He reaches his hand out to lift me back up again, but I want to defend myself now.

“Are you ready for the next step?” he asks, seeing my frustration.

“Definitely,” I nod. I think he did that on purpose to work me up.

Ardalion shows me how to escape him—as he comes running towards me, I’m supposed to sidestep and push him in the same direction he was already moving. I'll use his momentum against him, and it’ll cause him to land hard on his face.

He also talks me through what happens if I don’t manage to do that—once he’s on top of me, how I’d push him off, also using his strength or movements to do so. It makes sense in theory.

But in reality, it seems impossible.

We try.

And we try again.

And again.

And every single time, I end up on the floor with the wind knocked out of me.

I’m breathless, tired, hot, annoyed, and clearly not cut out for this.

“I need a break,” I sigh.

“No, you don’t. Keep going,” he demands, and before I can protest, he’s coming towards me again.

In a flash, I’m on the ground again, the full weight of his body pinning me down. I get angry, kick, fight back, not focused on any of my training—I’m just going wild beneath him.

But the results are the complete opposite of what I was aiming for.

They were messy, panicked, and uncoordinated, and basically, they backfired.

Ardalion has grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

My legs are spread around his hips, and my knees are bent.

My heart is racing as I feel him pressing into me.

He takes in a sharp breath as he stares down at me.

I can feel his heart beating against my breast. It’s racing just as fast as mine.

Electricity sparks between us, tingling across my skin.

Our chests heave as we breathe together, silence and tension building around us.

His cock isn’t hard, but it isn’t exactly soft, either.

His eyes drift to my lips, studying them as though he wants to kiss me. But why—why would he want to kiss me when he’s the one who pulled away last time?

I want him to kiss me.

Dammit.

No, this is a disaster. I turn my face away, trying to stop thinking about how close his mouth is to mine. How I could press my lips against his—

He releases my wrists, muttering an apology as he shifts his weight to the left.

He’s distracted.

He’s distracted!

I push my ass up, thrusting my hips against him; this is the last thing he would expect me to do, given the position we ’ re in. He’s already in the process of lifting himself, so I kick up with all my strength as I roll my body in the same direction he’s going.

I see the confusion and shock flash across his face as he rolls off me, landing with a thud on the mat next to me.

In a second, I’m on top of him, straddling his chest, my hands pressed into his shoulders. At first, I’m in complete shock that it worked. I actually pinned him down. Despite the obvious size and strength difference, I pinned him down. My mouth is hanging open as I stare at him in disbelief.

He looks just as stunned as I am.

My shock wears off, and triumph spreads across my face in the form of a massive smile. I’m giggling, excited.

He starts laughing.

“Holy crap, that came out of nowhere,” he says, his eyes still wide.

“I know, you were distracted , I did it. I did the thing!” I say excitedly, wiggling my hips, dancing happily.

His laughter rumbles through his body and into mine, vibrating against me.

It’s exhilarating. I feel strong and capable and really freaking proud of myself.

“Is that your celebratory dance?” he asks, his hands resting on my thighs.

“I have to celebrate. I can’t believe I actually did that,” I say happily.

“We should celebrate. What do you want to do?” he asks.

“Really? Anything?”

“Anything,” he nods, his eyes roaming over me, a soft smile on his gorgeous lips.

“Take me to your favorite place. A restaurant? Somewhere unique, maybe.”

He narrows his gaze and nods. “I know just the place. Somewhere you’ve never been before.”

***

Standing in front of my closet, I browse through my dresses. I’m so excited to go out with Ardalion this afternoon. He said we should go before sunset; it’s the best time to see this place he’s taking me to.

Now I get to dress up, celebrate, have fun, and see even more of LA.

After searching through the options I have, I pull out a beautiful, bright pink dress. It’s body-hugging, waist-snatching, and hip-accentuating. All of my favorite things in a dress.

And of course, the gorgeous glittery velvet material is going to be an eye-catcher with my hair braided over my shoulder and pink lipstick to match the dress.

But Ardalion told me to wear flat, comfortable shoes, not heels.

I assume we’ll be walking somewhere, and from what I’ve seen, LA’s walkways aren’t the most even or easy to manage in heels.

I’m grateful he thought of my comfort and warned me ahead of time.

There’s nothing more annoying than uncomfortable feet when you’re trying to have fun.

Luckily, I have glittering gold sneakers that will match the whole vibe perfectly.

When I’m ready, I stand in front of the mirror and examine my reflection.

The dress doesn’t hide any of my curves.

If anything, it accentuates them all. If I were on one of those blind dates, it would earn me a lecture about ordering salad instead of pasta.

But Ardalion hasn’t made me feel self-conscious about my body once since I’ve met him. In fact, quite the opposite.

Besides, I think I look cute, and that’s what matters the most.

“Are you ready? Oh, fuck, wow,” he stammers, and I turn to see him standing in the doorway of my bedroom. “You look fucking incredible.”

A smile grows over my lips. That’s exactly the type of response a girl wants. “I’m ready,” I say, grinning at him.

“Well, then, princess, follow me,” he says, holding out his hand.

I walk towards him, admiring how incredible he looks in black pants and a black shirt. The shirt is fitted tight over his broad shoulders and around his arm muscles. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, and the dark ink of his tattoos is teasing me.