A shaky curve tugged at her mouth, one that slowly bloomed into a trembling grin. What a sweet smile. He allowed a moment to revel in it. He doubted he’d see it again for a while.
Just like that, her eyes dropped again, and the doubt settled on her face once more. Right back into her shell. Damn it all.
“Gwen, look at me.” He winced at the harshness in his tone when she jerked her head up, her eyes wide. He’d been a gentle man, once. “Stop looking at the floor. I’m right here.” He pointed two fingers at his eyes.
“Sorry, Master.”
Archer narrowed his eyes. Something deeper lay beneath the respect she gave the word Master. He swore he could sense the sub in her, even if she wasn’t aware of it. He stepped closer to her.
“First, before we do anything else, the rules.”
“Rules, Master?”
“One. Master, but also Sensei, or Master Archer is fine, too. And second…” He stepped so close to her his nose would have touched if he’d been shorter and waited until she met his eyes again. “The floor is not your teacher and neither are your feet. Learn to look at me at all times here, and learn it quick. I’ll start punishing you every time you don’t.”
That gorgeous pink mouth opened a little at his words. The pulse in her neck jumped. He could practically hear the way she took the word punish. He wanted to tell her the next time she looked away from him he’d turn her ass red.
“Yes, Master Archer.” She met his stare, but her gaze wavered.
He raised his brow at her. “Why is it so hard to look at me?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry Master.” She was twisting her fingers again.
“Are you afraid of me?”
She didn’t answer.
No. Fear wasn’t the right word. She wasn’t afraid he was going to hurt her. But he could see the self-doubt, the worry every time she realized he was paying attention to her. Why?
After a moment under his stare, she shrugged. He tamped down the empathy that tugged at him. He could not fix her. Only she could do that.
“Get used to it. Eye contact is the key. It’s how you see my intentions, anticipate another person’s attacks, and it shows the other person that you’re confident and know what you’re doing. Understood?”
“Yes, Sensei.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, he moved around to her side. “I’m guessing you’ve never taken any type of martial arts.”
She grinned, her fidgeting hands stilled, and her face reddened. “No, Master.”
“Then we start from the beginning. First, we need to deal with this deplorable posture of yours. And that needs to stop.”
“What?”
“That.” He slapped her hands apart, just hard enough that she widened her eyes and dropped her hands to her sides. “You can’t show your opponent you’re nervous. Your stalker would see it as a weakness and exploit it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Such a Dom.” Her voice was barely audible; clearly she hadn’t intended for him to hear her.
He fought a grin and leaned in toward her, deliberately in her space. “What was that?”
“Nothing, Master.”
Archer stalked around her, hands behind his back again, watching the blush creep over the heart-shaped face. “I thought so. If you want to mouth off, I have ways to deal with it.”
She visibly swallowed. He couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn up. Yeah, definitely a sub and she was completely unaware of it. Well, this ought to be interesting. Especially since he could see her struggling not to lash out. The backbone was there. He wanted to drag that part of her out. Oh, the fun he could have, making her squirm.
Fuck, Ace’s sister and a student. Christ help him.
5
Unorthodox
In the two weeks since she’d started training, Archer hadn’t’ become any less bossy. Gwen arranged herself on the mat between them in the grounding formation he’s shown her in the beginning. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands fisted, arms out in front but slightly downward. The standard starting formation used before going through a kata.
If nothing else, she had to admit she’d made progress. In two weeks she’d memorized the sixteen basic moves that went into the kata taught to be beginners who trained at Iron Fist. There were sixteen katas to learn, each with their own series of moves—or forms—and she seriously wondered how she’d remember more than one, much less all sixteen.
Archer pulled out a stopwatch and nodded to the wide area of floor beyond the matt. “Go through your kata. No mistakes.”
Gwen blew out a breath at his intense gaze.
He held up his stopwatch and clicked it. “Go.”
She managed to move through the forms, one flowing into another, no longer fumbling her way through and making her look like her feet were on backwards. Sweat broke on her forehead halfway through, and not because of the exertion.
She still had trouble with the one front kick. She threw her leg up, kicking out. Smooth and unhalting. Relief spread through her.
A slight curve touched Archer’s mouth, making her insides go crazy. Was that pride in his eyes?
Gwen finished the kata, producing the proper shouts, kiais she knew were still too weak.
She bowed, returning to the proper starting position.
He stopped the watch. “Come here.”
She swallowed. His face was unreadable. “Master Archer? Did I do that badly?”
“Gwen, relax.”
“What?”
Amusement touched his perfect grey eyes. “You’re down to a half a minute, and you didn’t make a single mistake. You need to work on your kiais, but you did well. Now you learn grappling. Get over here.”
Gwen’s heart leaped into her throat. “Umm… Grappling? N-now?”
He nodded and gestured to the mat. “Stand in front of me.”
Oh boy. This was the downside of one-on-one classes. Archer was the only available partner.
Throat dry, she moved in front of him. He suddenly looked gigantic, those fists like boulders.
Archer stepped closer, and molten heat raced through her. She almost stepped back from him.
“So, I’ll show you how to avoid being taken down, and when you can’t avoid it, how to use the fall to your advantage. Attack me so I can demonstrate.”
“Pardon, Master?” She hated the tremor in her voice.
“Just do it, Gwen. Attack me.”
She blew out a breath. Reached out a trembling hand for his arm. He moved his arm away and scowled.
“What is that? I’m not glass.”
“Sorry. It’s just the idea of attacking anyone…”
Archer’s face hardened. He stepped toward her. “When I say attack me, this”—He barely swatted her arm— “is not what I mean. This…” Gwen shouted as both of his huge palms shoved her backwards across the mat. “…is what I mean.”
“Whoa. Shit.” Gwen slammed into the mat, struggling for breath. His ‘attack’ didn’t hurt but the suddenness of it jarred her. It was like being knocked over by Ace’s massive husky.
Archer leaned over her, his dark brows winging down. “You okay?” Concern radiated under the curtness.