by Taylor Lee
When he kept his response careful, almost casual, Lei let loose a flurry of jabs, knee kicks, roundhouse spins, and flying elbows. Wyatt knew he was holding back more than he usually did. Hell, at most, she came to his shoulder. He easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Did she expect him to drive his fist through her jaw or launch a skin splitting kick to her groin? “Not likely,” he thought. A slight smile never left his lips, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.
After several minutes of patiently reacting to an impressive array of aggressive flying attacks, he raised his hands. “Enough.”
He stepped back and bowed. “Thank you for an excellent match.”
Lei stopped, her hands clenched in tight fists. Gasping from exertion, she flushed, her cheeks bright crimson. She stared at him disbelieving, clearly stunned at his casual dismissal. “That’s it? We’re done?”
Seeing the angry tears filling her eyes, he nodded and kept his expression impassive.
She glared at him for a moment, her eyes flashing. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up close to him and spit in his face. Wyatt started. As he raised his hand to wipe the spittle from his cheek, she spit on the floor inches from his feet. With an angry toss of her head, she turned to walk away, her face tight with rage.
There was an audible gasp from the other students at this grievous insult to a kung fu grandmaster. A heavy silence settled over the room. Joey rolled his eyes. He shook his head in disgust, nodding to Wyatt, acknowledging her outrageous behavior.
Wyatt ignored him. He strode to the center of the dojo.
“Lei, come back here.”
She turned and hesitated when she saw the cold anger on his face.
“I said, come here.”
He pointed to a spot in front of him.
She wavered then took a deep breath. With her head held high, she walked back and stood in front of him. Compared to the tall muscular man looming over her, she felt small, fragile, but when she looked up at him she lifted her chin defiantly and glared at him.
Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. They glittered ominously, the predatory gaze of an animal stalking its prey.
“Do you want to fight more?”
She saw in his eyes the grandmaster – powerful, ruthless, dangerous. She was frightened, but swallowed hard and said in a shaky voice, “Yes.”
Not taking his eyes off of her, he motioned to her to come forward. Aiming for surprise, she sprang into action, driving a full force roundhouse kick at his groin. With one hand he caught her foot in midair and flipped her hard to the floor. This time he didn’t cushion her fall. She jumped up, gasping in surprise. He motioned to her to come again. When she did, he reached out and slapped her across her face, the ultimate insult to a fighter. Lei reared back in shock. Recovering, she sprang forward, her elbows up, and drove furiously at his chest. He stepped easily to the side and caught her arm. Spinning her toward him, he slapped her again. Gasps and murmurs echoed in the dojo as the students reacted to this insult and shaming of their fellow student. Lei rushed him again, but Wyatt stepped just out of her reach. He landed another taunting slap across her face.
Lei stepped back, breathing hard to gather her strength. She called on every punishing move she ever learned. With fierce determination and a warrior yell, she flipped over from front to back and leapt at him. She swung both feet up in a driving side kick at his knees. It was a move that would have shattered a lesser fighter’s kneecaps. Instead, Wyatt caught her and spun her around, her back to his bare chest. He jerked her up against him— one arm hard across her chest, the other tight around her hips. With her body trapped in a powerful vise, her arms pinioned to her sides, Lei responded with helpless rage. Shrieking in fury, she kicked wildly, trying to bite his hands and arms. She was frantic. Not only had he shamed her by slapping her, but she fought like a girl, a neophyte. She didn’t land a single strike. Her shame and anger were so intense she thought she might explode. She kicked frenetically against him. No matter how hard she fought or how furiously she thrashed, he merely held her tighter against his bare chest. His arms were a muscular steel band she couldn’t break. As her shrieks and kicks became more desperate, more helpless, to her horror, she burst into tears of frustration.
Wyatt held her sobbing until she stopped struggling. He put her down and turned her toward him. He said, “Look at me.”
When she shook her head, refusing to look at him, he reached down and lifted her face up to his. He held her chin so that she couldn’t look away. His voice was quiet, controlled, his eyes hard.
“Three things you need to learn. One — A kung fu master controls and uses his anger to become stronger, not weaker. Two — A kung fu master wins and loses gracefully. He always thanks his opponent for the privilege of fighting him. Three — No matter who you are, you honor your master. In this dojo, I am your master. If you want to practice here, you will honor me.”
When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Do you understand?”
She squeezed her eyes shut trying to stop the tears streaming down her cheeks.
He repeated, “I asked you if you understand. Do you?”
She refused to look at him and didn’t respond. He gave a slight twist to her chin.
“I said, look at me.”
She opened her eyes. Even through the blur of her tears, she could see his cold, relentless anger.
“I asked you a question. Do you understand? Answer me.”
She whispered, “Yes.”
Wyatt stepped back. “Apologize to me. Now.”
Lei was shaking with anger and shame. She took a deep breath and said, “I apologize.”
Wyatt said, “I accept your apology.”
He bowed. “Thank you for fighting with me.”
When she didn’t answer, he grasped her arm and pulled her closer to him. His glare was piercing, frightening.
She trembled. In a shaky voice, she said, “Thank you for fighting with me.”
He let go of her, bowed, turned, and strode out of the dojo.
Joey followed him out into the night.
“Was that necessary, Wyatt? Did you have to humiliate her? Crush her?”
“Goddamn right, I did. Don’t blind yourself, Joey. When’s the last time you let a student spit in your face? She wants to be treated like a real fighter? Treat her like one. You know if a man spit in your face, it’s fuckin’ unlikely he would be allowed back in the dojo.”
He added, “You brought this on yourself, Joey. You’re the one who wanted her here. You deal with her.”
He shook his head in disgust, turned, and walked back to his cottage.
Chapter 2
The next day, Wyatt, and Elena and Alex, his five year old twins, were leaving the dojo when a large group of students came up the stairs to the entrance. Zhi, Ri, and Lei were among them.
As they passed by, Elena spotted Lei. Her bright red curls dancing with excitement, Elena pointed to Lei and said with a gasp, “Look, Daddy, there is a girl fighter. I want to be like her when I grow up!”
Wyatt shook his head with a wry smile. “Let’s hope not exactly like her.”
Ri moved out of the group. He stepped up to Wyatt, his face taut.
“May I speak with you, Master Wyatt?”
Wyatt casually reached in his pocket for one of his custom cigarettes. He lit it and took a drag off of it. Gazing through the pungent smoke, he coolly focused on the young man’s angry face.
“If it has anything to do with your sister, no, you may not speak with me. If your sister has something to say, she can say it for herself. She doesn’t need you to speak for her.”
Ri flushed with embarrassment. Lei grasped her brother’s arm and pulled him next to her. Wyatt watched her with a slight smile. When she looked at him over her shoulder, he took a drag off of his cigarette and nodded. She tossed her head, then pushed her brother into the dojo, closing the door behind them.
~~~
That night, Wyatt finished a strenuous three hour kung fu practice.
It was one in the morning and he was toweling off after a well-earned shower. With Wyatt’s approval, Joey installed a shower room at the dojo that rivaled the most elaborate kung fu centers in San Francisco. Wyatt insisted that as long as their Wyoming dojo had the best sensei in the country they should have a state of the art facility.
Pulling on a pair of casual pants, he slung his shirt over his shoulder preparing to leave the dojo. His bare feet echoing through the empty hallway, he was surprised to see Lei come in by herself. She startled and jumped back, staring at his still damp, naked torso. She hesitated, then looked at the door as though she might go back through it.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said with a taunting smile, moving toward her.
He added, “You have already shown me how well you can defend yourself.”
She flushed at his amused reference to the way she had fought him in the match. Rather than the traditional kung fu gi, she wore a light weight sparring outfit. He smiled approvingly at the way it clung to her body. He let his gaze drift lazily from her flushed face to the surprising swell of her breasts to the curve of her hips. Stepping closer, he breathed the spicy fragrance that tantalized him when she struggled against him in the match. She blushed brighter at the suggestive way he looked at her body. With a dismissive toss of her head, she turned to walk by him, her eyes flashing with anger.
He couldn’t decide why he did it: if he wanted to humiliate her further or if he was responding to the rush of desire that made his cock swell rock hard. Or both.
Tossing his shirt over a nearby hook, he caught her by her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall.
She gasped, startled. “What… what are you doing?”
She tried to push him away, but he moved up against her.
“Hmm, I forget how you say it in Chinese, but that’s right, you prefer English. I believe the more universal way to say it is like this.”
He put his hands on the wall, pinning her between them. He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, lifting her face up to his. Before she could pull away, he kissed her, roughly forcing her lips apart with his.
She twisted away in shock. “My God! What are you doing? Stop!”
With an audacious grin, he said, “I will — when I’m done.”
To her surprise, he moved in closer. Before she could resist, he pulled her up to him. He pressed his groin against her, wedging his hard cock up between her legs. When she gasped and struggled against him, he reached down and held her face in his hands. He began to kiss her again. He ran his tongue over her lips, at first nipping and biting, teasing. Then with a soft groan, he forced her teeth apart. He drove his tongue deep in her mouth, probing, demanding.
Lei was stunned when she felt his hard body pressing against her, his bare, muscular chest and arms holding her tight against him. He smelled like soap and strong man, a musky odor that made her stomach quake. She was shocked at the way that he was kissing her. No one ever kissed her like that, hard, insistent. She felt a rush of heat in the pit of her stomach. Horrified, she heard herself moan and her legs began to shake.
To her dismay, he nodded, smiling at her response. He held her tightly against him for a moment, then stopped kissing her and stepped back. He looked down at her and shook his head, his eyes twinkling. A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“That’s enough, little Warrior Princess — for now.”
Struggling to catch her breath, she pushed him away, gasping.
“How… how dare you? What makes you think that you can do that to me?”
With a soft smile he ran his finger around her swollen lips. “Maybe because I just did and you seemed to like it.”
She struggled to regain her composure, angrily pushing his hand away. She was shaking, but her voice was fierce. She shoved her hands against his chest to keep distance between them.
“Is that all you think women are good for?” she asked, her voice thick with distain.
Wyatt stepped back with a grin.
“Let’s just say, Princess, its one of the things I like best about them.”
She wrenched away from him, her face hot with anger. Her mouth twisted. For a second she considered spitting at him.
Wyatt seemed to understand her intent. He smiled at her through half-closed eyes, his voice a low taunting threat. “A little advice, Princess. I’d hang on to that spit, if I were you.”
Holding his finger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart, he added, “Yesterday you came this close to me turning you over my knee and spanking your bare ass.”
Lei jumped back, choking with surprise. She gasped, “Oh, my God! You… you wouldn’t dare!”
Wyatt quirked an eyebrow and his eyes hardened. “Honey, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t “dare” do to you if you misbehave like you did yesterday.”
Lei glared at him, forcing her voice to be calm. “Don’t… don’t call me honey. I am not a child.”
Wyatt grinned at her. “Hmm, actually that’s how I talk to my horses… and my women.”
Lei was stunned, incredulous. She clenched her hands in tight fists at her sides. Her voice shook, but her words shot out in angry spurts. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a horse or a child.”
She drew herself up to her full height. Her voice was haughty, dismissive. “And I most certainly am not one of your women. To you I am one thing and one thing only — a kung fu student and fighter.”
Wyatt grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on. Reaching in the pocket for his cigarette case, he took out a hand-rolled cigarette and grinned. “Yeah, and you’re not bad at it either — at least when you’re not crying.”
He smiled at her. With a lazy appraising glance at her body, he found a match and lit his cigarette. He blew out the smoke, then let his gaze rest on her mouth.
“As for your kissing skills, you have good instincts. You’re clearly hungry for more. But you need practice, honey, and a good teacher. Don’t waste that mouth on boys, Princess. Save it for a man—a man who knows how to drive a woman crazy – how to make her beg for more.”
He turned to leave the dojo. At the doorway he looked back. She was shaking, angry tears brimming in her eyes.
He said with a soft smile, “Good night, Lei. Have a good practice.”
~~~
Lei stood still, staring at the empty doorway. Overcome with emotion she sunk to the floor and buried her face in her hands. She felt hot, flushed. Her stomach hurt. She was shaking. For a minute, she thought she might throw up. She forced herself not to cry. Oh, my God, what happened? What had she done? How dare he talk to her like that? Who did he think he was? No one talked to her that way or treated her like that, like she was nothing, a plaything, someone for him to taunt, to tease.
Oh, God! When he kissed her, she moaned and kissed him back. When he pressed his hard body against her, she responded as if she wanted more. And, damnit, he knew it. He laughed at her. Said she was begging for it. For what? He couldn’t mean… that. Oh, please, God. He thought she was hungry, begging for him!
Worst of all, he treated her like a child. Like she was pitiful, that she didn’t know anything. But he was wrong. She wasn’t some naive little know-nothing girl. She had experience. At least some – once. She had done it with Fu-han, her boyfriend when she turned eighteen. She grimaced at the memory. Thank God it had been over in minutes; several short, painful minutes. She had pushed him out the door and tried to forget it ever happened. She was glad when her father sent him away.
But now, with Wyatt? Maybe Wyatt was right. Maybe a man is different than a boy. God help her, she hadn’t wanted Wyatt to stop. But he thought she was innocent, pathetic, and needed lessons. Oh, God! She was sick with shame.
Lei choked back a sob. Her father was right. So was her brother. She never should have come here. She didn’t belong, she never could belong. For several minutes, she wallowed in self pity. She castigated herself for being a fool, for not listening to her father and, mostly,
to her brother. Ri warned her, told her how she would be treated. Last night, he was angry with her, furious that she had spit at Wyatt. He said she shamed him and shamed her father. He called her willful, brazen, and warned her father would be livid when he found out. Worst of all, she knew Ri was ashamed for her, embarrassed when Wyatt forced her to apologize, made her cry. If he knew what happened tonight, Ri would be enraged.
Trying to control her emotions, she wrestled down her shame and let her anger surge. Damn it! Ri was wrong. She was good enough to be here. She was a better fighter than most of the men. She was as good as Ri and he was one of the best. She had to be strong, fight back, the way she always did. She couldn’t let her fear of not being good enough hold her back.
But this wasn’t about her fighting, her skill as a warrior. It was about… it was about Wyatt. How could she have known that everyone’s hero, the half-breed grandmaster, would have dark blue eyes and warm brown skin? That his body would be strong, muscular, and tower over her? Or that he would threaten to turn her over his knee and spank her? She trembled in horror, remembering his threat, and tried to ignore the shivery sensations between her thighs.
Chapter 3
Martin Kendrick usually sent servants to arrange for work he needed done. This was not a usual case. His wife, Jesse, was thrown by a mare he just purchased. Martin had insisted the mare be put down, but Jesse convinced him to stay the execution a couple of days to consult with Wyatt McManus. Wyatt’s fame as a skilled horseman and trainer was widely known. Martin acceded to his wife’s request because it was as good an excuse as any to meet Wyatt —something Martin knew he needed to do.