Ten minutes and over a dozen exploded sandbags later, they stood face to face in the center of the sparring circle.
"Feeling jittery?" Sable stretched one arm across her body, using the other to push at the elbow. "It's fine if you wanna be a suka (bitch) and quit. I won't shame you for it."
Dante smiled, feeling that familiar competitive fire ignite in his chest. "Feeling cocky, are we? Then how about another condition for my victory?"
"What more do you want from me, you greedy animal?" But she was smiling, enjoying this.
"A kiss."
She blinked in surprise before she chuckled low in her throat, genuinely amused. "Can you make up your mind? I don't like indecisive men who can't commit to their goals."
"I'll need a taste to make my decision."
"Gut (good)," she said with a snort. "Let's see if you can back up that mouth."
She exploded into motion, testing his reactions with a quick hook. He slipped it, stepping back to maintain distance. She pursued immediately, throwing a flurry of punches. He blocked the first two, the rest landed on his chest and bicep. The impact stung despite his enhanced durability.
He threw a probing jab. Sable avoided it with no wasted motion, her eyes never leaving his. She countered with a low kick to his right leg before she sent a spinning kick at his belly. Unwilling to take an early risk, he blocked it with crossed arms over catching it.
She stepped back, signaling a reset. "You gonna stand there and take a beating?"
He grinned. "Don't want to end the fun early."
She snorted, feinting high with a jab before going low with a sweeping leg kick. He read it half a second before impact, lifting his foot to avoid the sweep that would have taken his legs out from under him. She flowed seamlessly into a spinning back fist that whistled through the air where his head had been a moment before. He ducked under it and responded with a Taekwondo side kick aimed at her midsection. The kick was a blur to his own eyes, yet she caught his ankle between her forearm and bicep in a textbook hold with her sheer experience. He retracted before she could secure it and drag him into submission.
"Good reflexes," she said with approval in her voice. "You aren't a greenhorn."
"You're still better."
He meant it.
Despite her obvious advantage, she continued trading strikes with him. His powerful but comparatively strikes met her lightning-fast combinations.
His kicks were either blocked with her own, or whistled through empty air as she evaded. She moved like water, exploiting her small size and speed with techniques to redirect force rather than absorbing it.
And once she saw a slight opening, her counters came from unpredictable angles.
A straight punch landed on his ribs as she dodged his hook, followed with an elbow to his solar plexus, driving air from his lungs in a whoosh. He barely blocked the knee at his midsection, which could've ended the fight right there.
'Can't keep this up.'
He was stronger, his enhanced muscles generating force that would break bones. Had better endurance, his enhanced durability letting him absorb punishment that would hospitalize normal humans.
But she had experience, and experience triumphed over raw attributes when the gap wasn't astronomical.
Then Sable changed tactics in the middle of his recovery.
She rushed in close, catching his right hand with both arms in a grip and sweeping a low kick at his shin. Dropping him down and locking his arm into a submission—Dante saw through her intention and planted his feet immediately. In response, she lifted both legs and wrapped them around his neck without hesitation. It almost felt like, no, she purposefully baited a firm stance to set up a triangle choke. Her entire weight pulled him down as she pressured the back of his neck with right thigh, locking her left leg over it.
A firm pressure covered his neck, restricting blood flow to his brain.
He had no choice but to lift her off the mat, slam her down hard enough to break the submission. But Sable improvised. She twisted mid-air like a cat, landing on his shoulders instead. Her thighs clamped around his neck in a standing triangle choke.
The softness of her thighs distracted him for half a second, then the suffocating pressure enveloped him. It was even harder to break free from it. Sweat dripped down as he felt his vision darken at the edge. His survival instinct kicked in hard, flooding his system with adrenaline.
She gritted her teeth, leaning forward to increase leverage, using her body weight and core strength to multiply the pressure. "Surrender! Don't be too prideful. You're losing to one of the best in the business. No shame in tapping out."
Pride was exactly what kept him conscious and let him pry her thighs apart through sheer power. She fought to keep control, but he simply overpowered her and hurled her.
Silver Sable rotated mid-air, landing in a crouch, right hand on the floor. Giving him no time to breathe, she rushed him again, pressing her advantage to end the fight.
This time she didn't engage directly in striking exchanges where his reach and power favored him. She circled around him instead, using her superior agility to dance around him, striking from his blind spots. A kick to the back of his knee made his leg buckle. She slipped under his reckless back elbow and delivered a punch to his ribs, followed with a quick palm strike on his chest.
He tumbled backward, barely keeping balance.
She was toying with him now, laughing, enjoying herself. Closing in again, she ducked under a wild swing and kicked him in the back. "Big boy, you've got big ambitions."
Circling him, she tapped his butt. "But you need to work hard for them. Let me school you properly after this."
Frustration showed on his face. His swings grew wilder, telegraphed and obvious. Every time he tried to grab her, she slipped away like water through his fingers. Every time he kicked, she was already moving, already somewhere else, reading him effortlessly.
Her small size disadvantaged raw exchanges where strength and reach mattered, but granted supreme advantage in mobility and evasion. She fit spaces he couldn't occupy, moved ways his larger frame couldn't replicate, exploited angles he couldn't defend.
Dante continued his reckless way of combat, pushing her confidence higher. She was too preoccupied with her dominance to see the calmness in his eyes, like a hunter waiting for its prey to walk into the trap.
Walking into the trap she did.
Sable rushed at his back with a powerful high kick, meant to knock him down on his face and end the fight. But Dante turned around. His hand shot out and caught the kick, yanking her hard to use her own momentum against her. She fell, hitting the mat with a hard thud.
Sable tried to get up, but Dante had her leg in control. He was on top of her in an instant, catching both her wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand, the other wrapping firmly around her slender neck.
Their faces hovered just inches apart, silence broken only by their ragged breaths. Her silver hair had come partially loose, strands clinging to her face in disarray. Despite their ambiguous position, her wide eyes stayed on him. Her mind still processed the sudden reversal of power. One moment, she was dominating. The next moment, she was pinned under him.
Dante couldn't help but steal her lips while they were still parted in surprise. For a moment, the world narrowed to the warmth of her mouth, the rapid pulse under his fingers, and the way her body tensed beneath him.
The kiss was brief yet electric, more of a statement and a reward than for his own pleasure. He didn't want to push her further, not for a victory he wasn't quite proud of. A fluke resulting from exploiting emotions rather than defeating her through pure skill. He'd be long dead if it was a real fight to death.
'Still, not bad for my second day here.'
He released her and collapsed on the mat beside her. "My victory tastes like mint."
Sable laid there, emotions flickering across her face too fast to track. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. Not the professional one she wore for him during their first meeting, but the genuine one she showed in his apartment.
"Da, you win," she said softly before bursting into laughter. "I feel stupid falling for your trick. Seriously, good job."
He shook his head. "Do you mind training me while you're here?"
"Silvija," she said in a firm voice before turning to him. "Only if you call me Silvija from now on."
***
Silvija is pronounced as SEE-lv-yah
A/N: You can read 20 more chapters on - Patreon.com/ImPerfect1