Spiced Molasses

Chapter 13

"Keep your wrist strong," Daryl advised, his voice clinical and his eyes narrowed.

"I am," Beth lamented. He'd been lured into teaching her how to fight but it wasn't easy; she was not taking to it as naturally as they had both hoped. There had been no violence in her past and that was working against her now. Still, she had a lot of anger and that was good for their purposes. Of course with no experience she didn't understand half of what Daryl was trying to explain.

Daryl shook his head. He had her merely punching air for now, telling her how to structure her swing, where the power should come from. For some reason he couldn't quite grasp, whenever she struck, her wrist would wiggle up or down.

Daryl gestured at the bag. "Go'on, hit that if you don't believe me."

Beth's eyebrows drew together. Part of her knew he was right but some part of her was too stubborn to back down. Beth had a backbone buried under all the fluff and doe eyes.

She scowled at Daryl before squaring off at the bag. She punched and Daryl admired her speed. She'd never be stronger than her opponents but swiftness was good, he could work with that if she was smart enough to learn. The glare quickly shifted into a grimace of pain. Daryl tried not to look too smug. Lucky thing about the lack of strength now, if she'd hit hard enough, with her wrist at that angle, they might have been dealing with a break.

Beth pursed her lips and released a breathy sigh. "You may have been right," she conceded.

Daryl didn't need to gloat out loud; his smirk said volumes all on its own.

"Extend your hand to punch. Don't hit it but touch the bag," he instructed gruffly. Beth wiped some hair back from her sweaty forehead before complying.

Daryl wrapped his fingers around her wrist, feeling her jump underneath his touch, straightening her aim. "This is how it has to be, every time," he informed her in a low voice, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on her arm and not looking at her face. He knew she was tiny and fragile but Daryl wanted to swear as his fingers encircled her entire wrist. Her skin was warm and slick to touch. Daryl jerked his hand back suddenly as if burned.

"You understand now?" he asked Beth. His voice was husky for some reason. Probably from lack of sleep. With Beth's sleep patterns settling once more, he was back onto the couch and it didn't agree with him. Beth bit her lip, concentrating on the bag.

"And hit with these two knuckles here," Daryl suggested, running a finger over his own fist to demonstrate. She nodded and practiced a few more times. Daryl saw an improvement immediately. She was still stiff but time would take care of that. She had to overcome her natural reticence to hurt people but Daryl was pretty confident his company could do that. He knew she'd probably enjoy hitting him once or twice when he got her up to sparring with a person. The thought of fighting with Beth made his breath catch and for the life of him he didn't know why. Sure she was annoying but he'd never wanted to hurt her.

It had been a long few hours; he'd first had to break Beth of the notion that punching someone meant swinging her fist in a round motion like they did in the movies. "A blind man'll see that hit comin'," Daryl had explained. "Better t'be subtle and quick."

"So just aim for the face?" Beth asked a little breathlessly.

Daryl snorted and shook his head. "Little thing like you? Nah, you're more likely to break your fingers 'an do much damage" Daryl rubbed his chin, thinking about all the times he'd taken a blow to the face or delivered one. There were sharp bones in there and it could hurt no matter which side of the hit you were on.

"Well, then where?" Beth asked with exasperation. She wasn't feeling optimistic about this fight training anymore and Daryl couldn't blame her. So far he'd spent more time on what she shouldn't do than what she could achieve with her smaller frame. Still, Daryl had promised himself he would train her realistically. He knew she could be a good fighter, his own training had taught him never to underestimate a woman that understood the mechanics of her body and her strengths.