Emperor of Mayhem

s e v e n t y

_____________________

BY MY SWORD

"Harder!"

Punch!

"That's too weak," Riccardo growled, "fucking hit me like you hate me!"

I huffed tiredly, then rolled my neck to release the trained muscles before my gloved hands raised to wipe the sweat hanging on the tip of my nose. Folding my hands into a tighter fist, I zeroed  my focus on his dainty nose. 

And then I propelled my fist forward and hit.

I expected to hear a crack like in movies because I was sure I used all the energy left in me. But all I got was a dry grunt and an eye roll. Showing me how unimpressed he was.

"Kick me." He ran his hands through his hair, seeming frustrated. I was probably the worst amongst all the possible people he'd ever had to teach how to merely defend themselves.

"I should kick you where?" I asked, scanning his lower body parts for any sensitive place that could send him to the floor. I actually wanted to finally give him an effective hit so he could be nursing the ache and set me free already. I was tired. I had been here for two hours and there was neither food in my stomach nor strength left in me.

"You know what? Let's end for today." He raised his hands in surrender, walking in the opposite direction.

With his command, I didn't even hesitate as I quickly took off the gloves and tossed them to a corner, slumping to the floor like a bag of cement.

Legs sprawled forward, I lowered my back to the cold floor, heavy pants leaving my lips while I tried as much as possible not to let the sweat trailing down my face to enter my gaping mouth.

I could still feel the remnant of earlier adrenaline weaving dully through my bloodstream, my heartbeat was still ragged as it tried to get a grip.  I was drenched in sweat, my skin was literally being gummy with the floor. I just wanted to disappear into my room, shower, eat and start the kdrama I downloaded on Mikhail's laptop last night.

My eyes were snapping close when I heard his footsteps head toward where I was laid, the sound of water being gurgled down a really wide throat causing me to peek open one eye to give him a stink look.

"Imagine you drinking water with such hunger when you didn't even break a sweat." I mumbled, the burning jealousy of his strength compared to mine rippling off my hateful tone.

A smirk appeared at the corner of his lips and I was already feeling a sense of irritation knowing he was about to say something annoying.

"I didn't ask you to be weak, you know?" He said, lowering himself to the floor a few inches from me.

I quickly sat up, a nasty glare directed at his handsome face. "Weak? Dude, I have been throwing punches and kicks for hours and you sit down there and call me weak?"

"Yeah, punches and kicks that never for once moved the punching bag or made me stagger even an inch." Corkiness rolled off his proud mouth and my glare only hardened.

"You know what? I don't really like your face." I said something slow-witted when I actually wanted to say something smarter and harsher.

He grinned. "Your face literally haunts my dreams."

"I really don't like you." I added lamely again.

"Never said I was in love with you either." He bit back lazily as he casually took off his gloves, while peeking at me through hooded, dark eyes.