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“Come on,” he taunts. “Let’s see what you can do, and don’t pretend you haven’t thought about hurting me at least once since we’ve met. You’ve wanted to slap me ever since I made you touch yourself.”

Adrenaline courses through me, and my face heats. “Is this your way of apologizing? Because a simple sorry would suffice.” As I try to pass him again, he grabs my arms. I feel like I’m about to burst into flames.

“Stop it, Micah. I’m not playing this stupid game with you.”

He arches his brows. “You’re lonely, afraid, and angry. You won’t hit Maison, and you can’t hit Naomi or anyone else, so… hit me.”

I turn away from him and cross my arms. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous.”

With lightning speed, he grabs my hands, twists me around, pushes me up onto the side of the escarpment, leaning into me with one hand just inches from my face. “Fucking. Hit. Me,” he growls.

“What the hell, Micah?”

“You’re weak, London. Maison made you weak by protecting you all the time.”

So that’s what this is about. He’s trying to toughen me up?

Fuck him. I’m not doing this.

I try to wiggle away, but he slides his hand on my waist. He grabs so hard at first, then nuzzles his fingers in. Heat pools between my legs and my heart hammers out of my chest. His touch leaves me stunned and motionless; I might even like it, but then—

Rage boils through me.

“Stop it!” I scream and slap him across the face and damn, it feels good. I barely make a dent in him, but he loosens his grip and steps back, flashing his teeth. A real smile forms on his lips, one that actually meets his eyes. “That was good. Do it again, harder this time. But don’t be so fucking pathetic. Stick up for yourself, London.”

I curl my fists and hit him again, this time giving him everything I have, and as I make impact with his chest, pain sears through my wrist, right up to my shoulder blade.

“Damn it,” I cry out, holding my wrist with my other hand. Punching Micah is the equivalent of punching a steel wall.

He’s so bloody strong.

He nudges me toward him and gently grabs my waist, pushing me down until I bend my knees. My body jolts to life as he positions one hand over my wrist and wraps one arm around my waist. His fingers tease, although I’m not sure he’s meaning it that way. It’s the same as way when he taught me how to fish.

“Remember what I showed you before? Use this stance. Hit with your core, not your arms.”

He steps in front of me, this time placing his hands out, giving me a target. “Try again.”

Controlling the shake in my hands, I lean into the punch this time, connecting with his hand as hard as I can.

“Better. Do it again.”

I connect with even more force.

“Again.”

I keep pounding on him until I can’t see or think straight, completely losing myself, forgetting everything but pounding the shit out of Micah’s hands. I punch him so hard and fast, eventually tears well up in my eyes. But it feels amazing to release all that pent-up energy I’ve been dying to get out, despite the fact it drains my limited energy reserves.

I finally stop and sit down, pulling my knees into my chest. Barely phased, he sits beside me as my chest rises and falls with heavy puffs of breath. “You feel better?” he asks casually, keeping his focus on the haze in the sky.

“Why did you do that?” My is voice is unsteady, and I rest my head on his shoulder because it’s too heavy to keep upright.

He inclines his head toward mine. “You need to know how to fight. You're strong, London, your mind is sharp. But physically, you’re weak, and Maison can’t always be there to protect you. Protect yourself on this island because no one will do it for you. If you’re not strong here, you won’t survive long.”

I gaze up at him, half expecting him to be watching me. To my surprise, he’s still looking over the horizon, like he’s a million miles away. I’m acutely aware of how close we are sitting, his dangerous energy swirling. His leg grazes mine and the place his muscular thigh touches mine is pulsing.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and he lets me lean on him while his fingers curl in and out of a fist. It reminds me of the airplane when I thought of him hurting Olivia.

Do I still believe he’s capable?