I still had full use of my legs, and I made total use of them. I gave a scissor-lock squeeze around his midsection, forcing him to release my arms and focus on my legs. That’s all I needed. With a four-finger jab to his trachea, his air supply was momentarily cut off in a whoosh, giving me the perfect opportunity to spring free.
My old combat instructor would have been proud.
I took stock of my options. I had to render him unconscious if I hoped to win. He’d defeat me, otherwise. I would have to be merciless, but stop short of killing him. I needed his help, after all. His blood. I didn’t want to spill a single drop on this cold, hard ice.
“Concede, damn you,” I growled, circling him like a tigress locked on her prey.
“You first,” he said, still on his knees.
I kicked out, aiming for his head. He swept sideways, dodging me, sending me spinning. Before I could regain my bearings, he was on his feet and coming straight at me. Just as he reached me, I linked my fingers together and swung, connecting with his temple. His head whipped to the side. He remained in place, hands balled into fists, knees slightly bent. Determination gleamed in his eyes.
“I am almost done playing with you,” he said.
“Play with this.” I launched a flying spin punt into his side. I anticipated the crack of a few ribs, not a block. But block me, he did. I tried again. Somehow he was able to counter my every move. He was fast. Unnaturally fast. I followed the second punt through, letting my own momentum spin me again. Then I crouched on the balls of my feet and went low. My leg struck out in a hard sweep as I tried to knock his feet out from under him. He leapt above my leg like I’d meant to play jump rope. Damn him. His speed—no one was that fast. No one human, that is.
Quicker than I could blink, he advanced on me. He used his weight to push into me, stumbling me backward. When my body came into contact with his, the strength hidden beneath his clothing jolted me. He was made of solid muscle, easily outweighing me by a hundred pounds, but he didn’t once use the power hidden in his fists to strike me down. Why? I wondered, even as I punched him hard in the nose. His head jerked to the side; he made no move to counter. Why didn’t he return attack? Why did he go out of his way not to hurt me?
There wasn’t time to ponder the answer. Too much was at stake. The answer didn’t matter, anyway. Right now I needed this man for one reason only, and his benevolence wasn’t it. With some fancy footwork, I managed three successive lateral blows. The last sent him flying into the windshield of a parked cherry red Mustang. His body bounced onto the hood, denting the shiny metal on impact. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, I’m sure, since a jagged cut slashed down his forehead.
A shame about the car, but I wanted like hell to save the blood dripping off the tip of his nose. I quickly jumped him, wanting to pin him, but he rolled out of my reach.
Before my eyes, the flesh on his forehead sealed, turning from red to pink to normal. That was twice now I had watched him heal so quickly, and I was still amazed.
He shot to his feet. Studying me all the while, he wiped the blood away from his face as if it were a pesky fly. Bastard. He was taunting me.
His main blood vessel, the one that supplied deoxygenated blood to his brain, ran just below his breastbone. If I could just apply enough pressure, he would crash like a test dummy.
I circled him, intending to do just that, but he surprised me by grabbing my jacket and tugging. The ice at my feet aided him. Suddenly off balance, I tumbled into him, keeping a viselike grip. His warm breath washed over my face as he leaned close.
“Now you will concede this victory to me,” he ground out low in his throat.
“When you haven’t hit me once?” I said, a cocky edge to my tone. I’d fought enough opponents to know Kyrin had had plenty of opportunities, but I wasn’t going to admit that aloud.
His eyes darkened, revealing a hint of wickedness, and he leaned down until our lips brushed once, twice. Soft kisses, languid kisses. Innocent kisses.
And all the more searing because they lacked heat.
“Why would I hit a woman I’d rather f**k?” he asked raggedly. I felt the thickness of his erection between my legs.
I found myself dragging in air—not from exertion, but from arousal. This wasn’t like me. Couldn’t be my feelings. My eyes narrowed. “Get out of my head,” I shouted.
“I am not inside your head.” He nuzzled his cheek against my jaw. “Your mind simply recognizes what your body craves.”
“No! You’re an alien. An other-worlder.”
He paused and our gazes locked. “What are you, Mia Snow?”
“A pissed-off woman,” I ground out, trying to push him off me. I only managed to rub him against me. I gasped, savoring and despising the sensation all at once. I positioned my hands over his pecs, meaning to give a hard shove, but I only caused his ni**les to press into my palms like little needles.
I wanted him off me. Now! End it! my mind shouted. End the fight.
I had to find his weakness; that was my only chance for victory at this point.
Where was he vulnerable?
The answer sprang to life the next instant. I could use his unwillingness to hurt me to my advantage. With luck, he’d leave himself vulnerable simply to protect me.
With that in mind, I pretended to go limp. As I’d hoped, he released his grip on my jacket and caught me, holding me upright, leaving the rest of his body unguarded. Quick as a cat, I spun behind him, jumped on his back, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I jerked him against me, hard, holding my fists square in the middle of his windpipe.
One, two, three, I counted. He remained conscious.
“I am different from my kind,” he said casually, as if I were giving him a hug instead of trying to immobilize him. “Just as you are different from your kind.”
How did he know how different I was? I squeezed harder, but all I received for my effort was sweat running down my temples. I was struggling to breathe. My energy was quickly draining.
I had to try something. Not knowing what else to do, I slammed the back of his knee with the heel of my foot. His legs crumpled, and as he fell to the ground, I doubled my fists and cracked him in the head. His face snapped sideways and struck the slick concrete. A pool of rich blood seeped from his mouth, and a murky stream formed where the warmth melted the ice.
My knuckles throbbed from the impact.
Once again he healed quickly. Almost immediately, he pushed to his feet and whipped around to face me. Our gazes locked.
“It seems neither of us will concede,” he said, his tone raspy.