Friday Snippet Meme


 


We're with Lars and Jess for this installment and, yes, I do realize that I know jack diddly about self defense moves and it shows That'll get fixed in the rewrite, especially since I already have my martial-arts/sword combat source grumbing at me for being an idjit. :)

Anyway, here's the scene.


**The following excerpt is first draft narrative, likely full of errors, and many changes are yet to come. Please do not quote or assume this is final text. All words are ©2007, Tamara Siler Jones, all rights reserved.**

Stain of Corruption
Chapter 3
Scene 3

Jess tied her boots while Lars lowered the rain shades, drawing the practice arena into private dimness. “Let’s work on breaks first.”

“Sounds fine.” Jess bounced to her feet and met him near the middle of the arena. “Am I attacking or defending?”

“Defending.” A quick kiss, then he moved behind her.

She waited. Nothing. Waited some more. “Is there a problem?” she asked, peering back over her shoulder.

Lars grinned and glanced down at her hips before meeting her gaze. “No problem,” he said, glancing down again. “Just enjoying seeing you in pants.”

“Always a tease,” she muttered, cheerfully smacking him.

“Right. Work.” He shook his head then grabbed her by the waist and dragged her toward him.

She fell back and giggled as his arm encircled her. He shifted her weight easily, turning, and she closed her eyes as he kissed her again. “We’re supposed to be practicing, not playing,” he said against her lips, one hand caressing down the side of her hip while the other supported her.

“Then why’d you pull the blinds?”

He set her back on her feet. “Same reason I always do. So no one can see what I’m showing you.”

Her grin widened. “So when are you going to show me?” She reached for him and he grasped her wrists, then she lowered her hip as she turned around, her hands coming up and the momentum breaking his grasp. She moved, bending, one hand reaching for his hair, the other for his forearm, and up and over he went, thudding to the arena floor.

“That’s my girl,” he said as she helped him stand. A quick nod and he lunged for her. She stepped backward and down, going beneath his belly and tossing him off his feet.

“If you get attacked, just get away,” he kept reminding her as they practiced one move after another. “Get away from them and I’ll find you.” Grapples and breakaways done, they moved on to disarming small blades, then grapples again.

They were warm, sweaty, and cozy, both speckled with sawdust and straw, when one misaligned throw sent Jess to the ground on top of him.

“You did that on purpose,” she said, tickling his waist.

“Me? Surely you jest.” A quick pat to her behind then he moved, flipping her, and pinned her down. “Get me off of you. Now.”

She tried, but he didn’t budge, other than to grind her spine into the straw. “Do it, Jess. Don’t worry about hurting me.”

She struggled, but it only made his grip tighter. It was so easy to forget how strong he was. “Lars, you’re scaring me.”

“Good.” He held her still, one hand clenching both her wrists above her head while the other pulled a wooden knife from his belt. “Rapists don’t play, Jess. They just take what they want.” The practice knife came up to her chest, her throat. “Don’t let them, don’t ever...”

She brought both knees up, hard against his back, and knocked him forward, the knife clattering away as he used his hands to catch himself. Her left leg went wide and up, hooking his neck, and she grunted as she slammed him backwards and off her. His foot shot out unexpectedly and knocked her in the face as she sat but she didn’t care, she just sent her right heel after her left and and hit him hard, square in the chest. As he rolled, gasping for breath, she stood and took a step toward him. “A stomp, right in the crotch,” she said, performing an abbreviated copy of the movement, “then again.” She bent and held out her hand. “Then run like hell. Right?”

Lars coughed, nodding, then grasped her offered hand. “Right,” he said as she helped him get back to his feet. “Good job.”

“Sorry I hurt you.”

He chuckled and spat a mouthful of blood-flecked spit. “No reason to be sorry. You did great.” He held her close and rubbed her nose with his own, his left hand warm and comforting on the small of her back. “Eye gouge.”

She complied.

“Throat, three ways.”

One, two, three, easy as can be.

“Pits.”

No problem.

“Give me four broken noses.”

One, two, and she had just drawn back for the third when the ground beneath their feet shuddered.

Before she could gasp, he pulled her tight against him and had a knife in his hand, a real one, its edge gleaming and deadly. “What--?” he asked, turning.

Her uncertain response was lost beneath a loud, thudding blast.


Posted: Friday - July 27, 2007 at 12:51 AM         |

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