Another World

Chapter 23

It was Wednesday evening and Charlotte currently found herself once more in the basement enduring yet another gruelling training session with Thranduil. Tonight he was being considerably stricter and more onerous than usual, and as Charlotte hunched over, clutching her knees for support as she gasped desperately for air, she was fairly certain that this was a tactical maneuver on his part to sap every ounce of energy from her so that, when she crawled into bed with him tonight, she wouldn't try anything...naughty.

The last few nights had involved heavy kissing and illicit caresses that left her utterly breathless and yearning for more as their bodies molded in heated entanglement. But, as always, Thranduil had halted before it could progress further – much to her consternation. The sexual tension, as well as the lack of some form of release, was really getting to her, and if she had to wager a guess, it was affecting the great Elvenking as well. He was coiled as tightly as a wound-up spring, and as he paced the room issuing pointers and critique, Charlotte could practically feel the agitation roiling off of him like a buffering wave.

"You're getting sloppy in your attacks," Thranduil remarked as he strode from one end of the room to the other; his hands clasped behind his ramrod back, his jaw set in a hard line and his eyes glinting like shards of glass as he scrutinised her from afar.

"That's because we've been at this for nearly two hours. I'm exhausted," Charlotte snapped, swiping away a damp strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail from her flushed face.

"That's no excuse, Charlotte. Push past the weakness you perceive in yourself and strive for improvement."

Charlotte muttered a few colorful words in response and knew he had heard by the way Thranduil suddenly stilled and glanced over his shoulder with a look of mild disapproval.

Charlotte straightened with great effort, her muscles screaming for reprieve, and placed her hands on her hips.

"Did you personally train Legolas?" she enquired.

Thranduil turned to face her full on with liquid grace. "Legolas received tutelage from some of my finest warriors and when he was ready, I continued with his training."

"The poor sod," Charlotte muttered.

Thranduil tilted his head to the side, his eyes focussing dangerously on her. His utter stillness, paired with the intensity of his gaze, suddenly made her feel very nervous at her slip of words.

"What was that, little one?" he asked, his rich, deep voice coming out as a danger-laced growl.

"Nothing," she quipped, her voice going high pitched.

His electric blue eyes narrowed into icy slits and then he abruptly turned his back on her. Charlotte let out the breath she had been holding, cringing when it come out as a whoosh.

"Now I want you to try and attack me. And do try to at least get in a hit this time," he remarked in a derogatory tone.

Charlotte groaned and dropped her head in defeat. This is what she had been trying to do for the last two bloody hours, and each and every time Thranduil had blocked her punches and kicks as though he were merely swatting away a bothersome fly. She hadn't landed a single blow, and this frustration, paired with the sexual tension brewing between them, was coming to a head in epic proportions.

There was no way she would land a strike, not after nearly all her energy was sapped, so she thought: what the hell!

Charlotte charged full tilt and flung herself at the Elvenking. Thranduil turned around at the last second and caught her swiftly in his arms. Charlotte blinked in startled surprise, finding her legs wrapped around his slim waist and her hands clutching his shoulders. She slowly raised her gaze and her breath hitched when her eyes locked with his. In those swirling blue depths was an undercurrent of predatory intent and she suddenly realised there was no escape. Not that she wanted to escape, but the look in his eyes let her know that she was very much his prey.