Obsidian. (Book 1)

Chapter 19

Darting back and forth, eviscerating the punching bag with a barrage of quick jabs, practicing my hand drills. Raising the knee of my kicking leg waist-high, channelling tremendous speed, exerting it in a snap kick.

"Impressive," Orian walks in wearing casual wear. "Your technique, clean, efficient and strong."

I step away, sweating profusely. "Well... I have a lot of anger to release."

I try to keep my gaze at eye level, but my gaze keeps being dragged down. He's wearing grey sweatpants that hit him just right. Paired with a sleeveless tee that flaunts his arms, cords of bulging muscles flexed, prominent veins streaming like tributaries.

"I can help you with that."

I look at him blankly.

"Spar with me."

"Not interested." I turn away to resume my drills.

"Why do you fight?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"One that needs an answer."

Sudden verve charges my movement, fuelled by undeclared grievances. "I learned to fight because I had to."

"Who put you in that position?"

I throw a last punch; the bag swaying. "What?"

"Most people fight because they were once in the position where they couldn't, when they were helpless. Who put you in that position?"

He crosses his arms, muscles tensing. His face steeling with an unyielding look. He's not going to let this go.

"What makes you think it was someone."

"You told me once that you would never tremble before another man again," he quotes. He inclines his head. "You're not the only one that remembers things."

I hold the punching bag steady, looking away momentarily. "Don't you have people to torture? Perhaps throw some bodies into the ocean?"

"I'll tell you why you were wrong about your investigation into Cherep Ekipazha," he says in fluent Russian.

My eyes shoot to him, unable to my mask my surprise. "Why do you think I would care?"

"An enterprising woman like yourself. You're rarely wrong. Only when it comes to me." His lips peel back into a dangerous smile. "And I'm sure you hate it."

He's not wrong.

I let go of the punching bag. "I won't pass on the chance to beat your ass."

He flashes a shark-like smile before he leaves the gym. I follow him out. He leads me to the upper deck. He orders his men to move the outdoor furniture and dining table to the sides. Orian strips off his tee, pulling it over his head and casting it afar. Sculpted muscles glistening under sunlight, his Spartan shoulders bespeaking strength.

Okay, I see what you're doing.

He and I meet in the centre.

"I'll be gentle," he whispers amorously, his eyes saturated with sin.

"I won't be."

I launch a blazing roundhouse kick that rattles his skull. He starts to fall until—he strikes back like a bolt of lightning; his foot slams into my rib cage. I stumble back, regaining my stability, gritting my teeth.

"I can play just as dirty, Sakura."

I attack, he defends with a rising block. He hurls a series of back fists and cross punches that I manage to evade by a hair's breadth, jerking into the opposite line of attack. Raining blow after blow, using maximum effort to keep up with his lightning-quick attacks. I take him by surprise with a reverse sidekick, on the offensive, with a single leg take down. I impair his balance, sending him to the ground.

And I'm on top of him, seated on his groin. "I win," I say breathlessly.

He's not even breaking a sweat. Instead, his hands glide up my thighs gradually. "Did you?"

"Was this your plan—"

He flips me over. My back smacks the deck's floor with a thud. Fresh pain inundating my shoulder.

"You talk too much."

In between my legs, he leans forward. I jerk my knee up, placing it against his steel-like stomach, halting him. He places his hand on my knee gingerly, stroking it before he wrenches my legs apart, tearing out a gasp from me.

"Orian!"

He moans, purring like a panther, eyeing me down like a predator that hasn't eaten in days.

 "Say it again."

"Get off me!"

"Say it again."

"Or what!" I scream into his face, writhing violently under him. "You'll fuck it out of me?"

He chuckles; a dark and formidable sound. "Then you'll be screaming my name."

"Why do I always walk in on your... moments?" Torin announces, cringing, emerging from the stairwell. "Sorry to be a cock block, brother. But you're needed." He holds up a satellite phone. "It's for you."

Orian glances down at me. He climbs off me and heads for the stairway. Torin outstretches the phone, and he grabs it from him before he disappears. My torso drops flat on the floor, chest heaving.

Torin ambles over and stops, looking down at me curiously. "You're welcome."

He extends his hand. A burst of energy allows me to slap his hand away, clambering up to my feet on my own. "I'm not saying thank you for shit. Doesn't he understand the term, consent?"

Torin shrugs exasperatedly. "He wasn't going to fucking rape you. I think." He waves me off. "You know those animal shows, they tell you that you should never run from a bear or a lion. It's like that. The more you resist, the more you'll excite him."

He said that too casually.

I wipe my forearm across my forehead. "And what made him like that?" I start pacing feverishly. "What makes him think in his mind that what he's doing is okay?"

Torin watches me like I'm throwing a childish tantrum, which enrages me even more.

"What is it? A tragic sob story that messed him up so it justifies everything he has done?" Anger thrums through my veins, hot and quick. I grip my shoulder, pain throbbing unabatingly. "His dad beat him as a kid or something?"

Torin's expression corrodes into an intolerable look. "Actually, our father was a good man. At least to him. He's probably the only reason why he's not a full-blown psychopath. He was his...tether. So, when he was killed... the beast was untethered." He scoffs wryly. "Trust me, you haven't seen his bad side. This is a happy Orian."

I squeeze my shoulder, shaking my head, baffled. "So, he gets off on hurting people? That's sick."

"Come," he says. "I have some aloe vera, it'll help with your shoulder."

My eyes constrict into lines.

His shoulders slump tiredly. "Don't be stubborn." He nods me over. "Then we'll go get some ice for that bruised ego."

A small smile breaks through. "Shut up."