Bombastic Love

~Nariya Patel~

Hurriedly, my steps carried me towards the gate, towards the door. Yet, before I could exchange greetings, I noticed his figure swiftly retreating into the house.

"Alexie," I called out.

His rigid steps halted, but he didn't turn. Instead, he growled, "Shouldn't you be at practice?"

Taken aback by his tone, I gulped. "Today... today is a rest day."

His intense gaze bore into me as he turned, the cold fury evident in his eyes. "Rest? Do you think you have the luxury to rest?"

Quietly, I delved into his eyes, discerning something beneath the surface of his fury. His countenance looked disheveled, marked by stains and swelling. However, my attention shifted to smears of hastily wiped-off red, seeping from his forehead. He didn't permit my gaze to linger, abruptly commanding, "In the practice room now!" With that, he sprinted away, vanishing upstairs.

A gentle touch made me twirl, and I found myself face to face with Mao, her features soft as she inquired, "Are you okay?"

Lightening the mood, I chuckled while glancing at my feet, where a splinter had caused some swelling on my heels. Rubbing my arm, I looked back at the concerned girl and assured her, "Yeah, everything is fine. Don't worry about it."

With little more than a nod, I returned indoors, changing into my workout clothes and taking a closer look at my feet. Even with slippers on, some splinters had managed to poke through my skin. "Shit," I muttered as the adrenaline rush subsided and the pain slowly intensified. The swelling, not immediately evident, was now unmistakably burning my skin.

"Nari!" a command from outside snapped my head towards the source, and I hurried to the foyer to find Alexie still dressed in his earlier clothes, glaring at me.

Calming my goosebumps, I approached him, noticing droplets of water gracing his visage. He had washed away the grime from earlier, but signs of his swollen eyes were still apparent upon closer inspection.

"Can you no longer follow your elders, or have you lost all respect now?" his crude words made my throat go dry. My emotions on the edge, yet he ignored my moist eyes and walked past me towards the practice room. Silently I followed him, confusion tracing every event that led to this moment. What had I done?

Since he left, I retraced everything that had happened over the week, walking in a trance as I watched him strip off his shirt and don the boxing gloves. In a corner, I spotted Mao and Handler, the man nonchalantly waving at me. However, the worry in Mao's eyes hinted that something was amiss. I sensed she was attempting to convey something to me, but her words seemed restricted by the man who had his hand on her shoulders. His stance appeared casual, yet it inflicted pain, keeping her on a tight and commanding leash.

Then it clicked – it was her words that had triggered this emotional shift in my caretakers. My eyes glanced back at him, a numbness ringing in my ears as I heard his distant voice calling me to take my stance.

Wordlessly, I grabbed my own pair of gloves I had placed in front of him, but everything seemed a blur. Mao's words from that night kept repeating in my head until I snapped out of my thoughts. Within a second, a flash passed right next to me, and my brain kicked into overdrive. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I felt a jab of pain and hot liquid streaming down my right cheek. Alexie was serious; my eyes met his, and I saw an ocean of emptiness. His stance was ready for a kill, his last move purposefully missed. My body stiffened, the survival instinct taking over. Without conscious thought, I dashed in a frenzy to evade his attacks.

A week of training wasn't ample enough; I knew it. However, the blood pumped in my head, urging me to use whatever I had learned. Multiple pictures, countless scenarios to counteract played in seconds, only to be shattered when my body, in dismay, realized that I could not counter-attack. All I could do was helplessly dodge in the small window he was deliberately providing me.

My breathing hiked; all my salutations of his attacks were proving useless. At a point in his relentless assaults, I realized he wasn't practicing boxing, karate, or Muay Thai, but a style I had only seen on the street. The art of survival in the real world – he was street boxing, using any means with only one goal in mind: to win.

Sweat clung to my bra, drops pooling between my breasts and flowing down my navel, tracing the lines of my panties. Even the simplest dodging had become challenging. A motion on his left side prompted my body to twist in response until he abruptly switched sides. His right kick caught me off guard, aimed directly at my skull. However, my arms, intended for defense, felt sticky and unresponsive, failing to move quickly enough. In a reflex, my body pushed itself back in an attempt to fall and evade his imminent attack, but he proved faster and taller, adjusting his angle for a lower trajectory.

Anticipating the impending blow, I closed my eyes. Yet, the expected impact never came. Slowly reopening my eyes, time seemed to have slowed almost to a pause. Glancing to my side, I observed his feet suspended mid-air. Behind him, a restless Mao desperately struggled against her uncle's grasp, the man effortlessly holding her in a firm grip. Though Mao couldn't articulate it, her silent scream echoed in my ears, intensifying as he abruptly repositioned his foot on the floor with a thud.

Time resumed its normal flow, and as my hearing gradually returned, I became aware only of the sounds of my own labored panting. A wetness on my face drew my attention, and I touched it with my palm, realizing it was the free flow of tears streaming from my eyes. Raising my gaze, I locked eyes with my guardian. Worry and pain were evident in his eyes, and then something else replaced them in a blink—loathe. Before I could react, he turned around abruptly, sprinting out of the room.

A frantically worried Mao crouched next to me, her eyes filled with concern as she checked me over repeatedly, gesturing to inquire if I was okay. I sat there in numbness until my brain willed me to move.

"Mao, I'm okay. Just give me a minute... okay?" I assured her, pushing myself off the ground and running after the man.

Ignoring the growing pain in my feet, the stabs from the splinters now likely exacerbated by all the running, I saw my target heading towards the stairs. He was attempting to hide again. Glancing around, I picked up the first thing I saw—a vase—and threw it at him.

"Alexie Ivanov, stop acting like a bitch!" I growled. Whatever swirl of emotions and assumptions had prompted this man's actions, I knew one thing for sure: he had just dug his own grave.

'A wise man once said, don't provoke the kind soul, for a kind soul can endure countless abuses, punches, and curses. But once they snap, holy hell is about to break loose. Now, all you can do is wither in fear under their fury.'

Anger is a peculiar force; it tenses the muscles to such an extent that it propels the human body beyond ordinary limits. When anger is harnessed with full control of one's mind, it sends neurons into overdrive. Fueled by my recent training and precise attacks, I found myself on an exhilarating high.

The crash of the vase, which he dodged in surprise, made him turn slightly only to see me dashing towards him. Expecting to catch me and immobilize my limbs, he sighed lazily. However, I wasn't going to go down so easily. As soon as I was in his range, I switched gears, twisting my body and contouring my leg to use my knees to aim for his side. Caught off guard, his position shifted to protect his side, but it was already too late, and I heard a groan of pain. His teeth clattered, yet his monstrously built body absorbed the impact, but I had anticipated that.

Pushing my own body weight forward, I exploited his position, bringing him down with me to the ground. If he wasn't going to adhere to the rules, neither would I.

His eyes closed for a second, but I was as quick as a whip, rotating my body at my hips to apply a chokehold around his neck between my thighs. Simultaneously, I twisted one of his arms behind my back, exerting torturous pressure on it. This maneuver, known in judo as a triangle choke or sankaku jime, left him gasping for breath. With his breathing knocked out, he yowled in pain. In a matter-of-fact tone, I spoke, "Don't you think we have something to discuss, my lord?"

Wheezing, his vocal cords felt the intensity, and he managed to speak, "Nari... what..."

Intensifying my hold, I commanded, "Shut up, сука (bitch), and answer!"

I could feel his heart slowing, all resistance passing. I loosened my grip, leaving enough room for him to breathe but tight enough for him to know I could reclaim control in mere seconds.

A sigh passed his lips as he took minutes to fill his lungs back with air. "Nari... I need to tell you something that sheds those cravings. I am..." His voice wavered, a whimper escaping, signaling that the dam of his emotions was about to burst. Wanting to spare him the pain, I completely released my hold, straddling on top of his hard muscles.

In a soft voice, I replied, "Are all the guilts of the lives you had to take?"

His eyes, dull since morning, widened, rendering him speechless. Watching him, I continued, "I know, Alexie. I had anticipated that you..." I sighed, "...aren't a normal white-collar worker. I mean, clearly, the first time we met, you easily killed that boy who was trying to rape me like you were slicing butter."

He gulped, "You knew?"

"Of course, I knew," my tone heightened. "The signs were all there—the car chase, your unlimited supply of money, your secrets, your friends." I pointed at the audience that had joined us and was currently standing in a corner, enjoying the entertainment as if we were actors in some movie.

Finally given notice, Handler chirped, "Oh, you noticed us. I just wanted to say—"

Both Alexie and I replied in harmony, "Get out!"

The man pouted but nonetheless moved slowly toward the main door, while the girl gave an encouraging nod, hurrying after her uncle. Once the door closed in a firm shut, we continued our heated conversation.

"Nari," he breathed, "...I am sorry. I didn't mean to hide things from you. Anything pertaining to you, I told you truthfully. But where they came from or how, I just..." He looked away, "...couldn't let you know."

Holding his chin, I made him face me and said firmly, "Eye contact, Alexie. Eye contact."

A slightly humored smile lit his face, the first of today, the first since he left, as he continued, "I thought you'll hate me." His smile drained as he spoke with sincerity, an air of self-loathing fresh in his breath.

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. "Alexie Ivanov, you might be a red flag for the world." The hurt was anticipated in his eyes as he braced for reciprocating hate from me, but I continued, "But you have been nothing but the biggest green flag for me."

His eyes widened, but I wasn't done. Slowly pushing my body forward, my lips featherly met his for a second as I whispered for only him to hear, "I love you, my Lord."

My heart raced as I sat in that position, a trickle of uncertainty prickling my heart. Mere seconds later, his arm laced through my hair, pushing my skull forward, and his lips captured mine. The feather-light kiss was nothing compared to the intensity of his, our bodies melting on contact. Sucking and slipping, it felt like the pain numbing my body was lost, and all my senses pulsed to his.

I could hear his heartbeat under my palms, it reciprocating my own rhythm. It lasted who knows how long, but when we had to break apart, puffing for air, I searched his eyes, now once again bright. They too felt like they were experiencing the same healing synergy as I. Words were communicated between us, but only through that red string connecting our hearts. Once again, we found ourselves entwined in each other. The pulse reverberated through the space we occupied, moving our plush lips against each other. The sensation was so sensual; it almost made me lose my mind.

𝒮𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝐸𝓃𝒹