She looks so excited that I decide to hold off on the mat fucking for now. Delayed gratification can be a good thing, and I did carve out this time specifically for her training.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s go.” And taking her hand, I lead her out of the house.

We go to the field where I usually work out with my men. At this time of day, it’s too hot for serious exercise, so the area is largely empty. Still, as we pass by, I see a few of the guards surreptitiously staring at Nora. It makes me want to rip their eyes out. I think they can tell—because they look away as soon as they glance at me. I know it’s irrational to be this possessive of her, but I don’t care. She belongs to me, and they all need to know that.

“What are we doing first?” she asks as we approach a storage shed in the corner of the training field.

“Shooting.” I give her a sideways look. “I want to see how good you are with a gun.”

She smiles, her eyes gleaming with eagerness. “I’m not bad,” she says, and the confidence in her voice makes me grin. It seems that my pet learned a few things in my absence. I can’t wait to see her demonstrate her new skills.

Inside the shed are some weapons and training gear. Going in, I select a few of the most commonly used guns—everything ranging from a 9mm handgun to an M16 assault rifle. I even grab an AK-47, although she might be too small to use it with ease.

Then we go outside to the shooting range.

There are a number of targets set up at different intervals. I have her begin with the closest target: a dozen empty beer cans propped on a wooden table some fifty feet away. Handing her the 9mm, I instruct her on how to use it and then have her aim at the cans.

To my shock, she hits ten of the twelve cans on her first try. “Dammit,” she mutters, lowering the weapon. “I can’t believe I missed those two.”

Surprised and impressed, I have her try out the other guns. She’s comfortable with most types of handguns and hunting rifles, hitting most of the targets again, but her arms shake when she tries to aim the AK-47.

“You would have to get stronger to use that one,” I tell her, taking the assault rifle from her.

She nods in agreement, reaching for her water bottle. “Yes,” she says between sips. “I want to get stronger. I want to be able to handle all these weapons, same as you.”

I can’t help laughing at that. Despite her generally easygoing nature, Nora has a strong competitive streak. I’ve noticed it before, when we did that three-mile race on the island.

“Okay,” I say, still chuckling. Taking the bottle from her, I drink some water and then return it to her. “I can train you to get stronger as well.”