HerCreed-ARE-epub Read online

Still, he wondered when he would see her again.

  Chapter Three

  Five years later, KC stepped back through the doors of the Gladi-Rapers training ludus.

  KC.

  Her real name.

  The rest of the story had been true so long ago. She’d only swapped the letters.

  She’d turned twenty-two a few weeks prior, which happened to be the week before she’d graduated from college with a dual degree in biology and chemistry.

  After Creed had shut the door in her face while kicking her out for being underage, she’d done a lot of thinking. Not all of it pretty. Not all of it honest. But thankfully she accepted her past and made a commitment to herself to make her future exactly what she wanted it to be.

  She’d gone back to school and kicked its ass. Making it her bitch had been her life’s goal for years. Didn’t take her long to find her stride, because somehow he’d given her the purpose she’d been looking for.

  The goal to get into the Rapers had faded into the background a bit over the years. But the thought of seeing him again, proving to him that she’d made something of herself, never went away. He was probably married with three kids and a dog somewhere in the suburbs, but that didn’t stop her from wanting him.

  Didn’t stop her from picturing herself on the mat with him when she lay in the dark of her apartment with her panties pulled to the side.

  It was his name she still called when she came. His face she pictured with her fingers in her pussy.

  They’d spoken for a handful of minutes.

  Truly he shouldn’t have made such a ginormous impact on her life, her wishes, but he had. He was what she wanted. If nothing else, she needed to say thank you to him.

  No. That was the lie she’d told herself to get up the courage to show up today.

  For whatever reason, she’d trusted him. The first time she’d seen him, much less met him, she knew he wouldn’t harm her. At least not unintentionally. It had a lot to do with the fact he didn’t turn her in. Didn’t call the cops or CPS or her mother. Or her sperm donor.

  Her parents.

  What a fucking joke.

  She shook her head, not anywhere near ready to deal with that powder keg of awful.

  Nervousness raked nails across her spine, but she hid it all.

  Never let them see you sweat. Not ever. That was her motto. She could break down and let her emotion out when she was behind closed doors at home. But not in front of anyone else.

  Her eyes adjusted to the darker hallway as the light from outside faded.

  Staring up, seeing the window she’d snuck through, made her smile. How she’d ever gotten the balls to climb up the wall to get inside, she had no clue. Fate had pushed her, she thought. Only thing that made sense to her so many years later.

  “Keep your hands up, Allyson. You’re dropping your left shoulder still. If Rage caught you doing that in the ring, he’d take that pretty pussy in a heartbeat.”

  Voices called to KC from inside the stadium, drawing her forward.

  Walking through the stark, empty hallway, the feelings she’d had so long ago bombarded her. Lost, abandoned, a nobody. Invisible. That’s how she’d felt.

  Trying to sift through it, she relaxed and pushed it to the side.

  She wasn’t that scared little girl anymore.

  No one could take her power again.

  Taking her power wasn’t an option. She was a fighter. Whether it be for the Rapers, she’d know hopefully in less than a few short hours.

  But she would fight in The Cage at least once before she moved on.

  She’d already been hired to take on a new position at BioChem Research in East Aurora, right down the street from a MOOG facility, on the first of September. So that left her one last summer to be a kid. One last summer to pursue a dream she just couldn’t let go. Several short months to be wild and reckless before she let all of her childhood go to focus on the rest of her life and finding herself. Fighting wasn’t something she wanted to do as a career. It wasn’t something she even wanted to do for a huge period of her life. She’d learned huge amounts of how hard it could be on her body. Her mind.

  But one thing she’d taken to heart in all of her boxing and martial arts classes had moved her up in rank faster than any before her.

  If you hit first, if you hit harder, you aren’t on the receiving end of pain.

  Fuck. Yeah.

  Oof. The sound of a fist or boot colliding with a person reached her ears on the last stretch of corridor. Adrenaline spiked in her veins. Several masculine voices spoke up at the same time.

  “Great kick.”

  “Fuck that had to hurt.”

  “This is training only, dickwad. Keep your size thirteen’s on the mat like a gentlemen. Keep the asshole in check ‘til you’re on the mat on Saturday, and then you can let your dick flag fly.”

  “Dick flag. What a slogan.”

  As she moved closer to the stadium, she searched for Creed’s voice but didn’t hear him, and she made her herself one promise. No matter the outcome, no matter if she saw Creed or not, she would try out, and whether they took her on to train or not she would let this obsession go.

  Once and for all, she had to let him go.

  This would be her farewell to the girl she’d been, to make room for the woman she knew she wanted to be.

  So she went back. Back to The Cage she’d never stood inside, but which had changed her destiny nonetheless.

  She was in the best shape of her life, and she had something to prove to the man who’d thrown her out before when she was a kid.

  Now she was a full-grown woman who knew a whole hell of a lot more about how to get what she wanted. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be a Raper. To stand in the ring with her fists in the air. The victor.

  Which would give her the right to fuck the loser at her feet. Male. Female. Wouldn’t matter. Her sexuality was fluid enough she knew the hole before her didn’t matter. It’d be tight, which was all she cared about.

  She pulled a sheaf of papers from her purse as she made the last corner into the auditorium. The ring. The Cage stood before her.

  Staring around the open training facility was like a slap to the face. It was very different in the light of day. Might have also been the difference between looking at it through the eyes of an adult without her childhood filter changing it.

  She’d seen it several times as a “paying customer” in the stands far from the real action for research purposes, but somehow she expected it to look the way it had years ago. Stars in her eyes wasn’t the right description, because she’d already had those stripped away before she’d even hit her tenth birthday.

  Naïve.

  She’d been naïve when she’d snuck inside to see the fights. The men and women within the Cage had always been larger than life. Exactly what she wanted to be. In the light of day, they were simply normal people.

  Well. Normal, KC guessed, was pretty relative when she considered what they did after their fights came to an end.

  People surrounded the ring in the middle. The Cage had been lifted to the rafters of the tall ceiling for training purposes. A girl stood in the ring, facing a trainer with boxing pads on his hands. She was fast, tough.

  But KC knew she was better.

  Attitude.

  One thing she thankfully hadn’t ever let go of. She wrapped it around herself like armor and moved closer.

  “Can I help you?” A big-ass dude, standing by the wall next to the ring, eyed her and gave her what was more than likely his best panty-dropping smile. It wasn’t bad, but she’d seen better. One better.

  “I’m sure hoping so.” She flashed him what she knew was a killer smile and batted her heavily mascara’d lashes in his direction.

  “I do, oh so, aim to please such a pretty face.” Moving toward her, several others glanced in their direction, but didn’t pay them any real attention. They were too busy actually training.

  The tips of her fingers tingled,
and she pulled her hands into tight fists, one of them being around the edges of her papers. She’d been training for nearly a year to get ready for this hey-how-are-ya, and she couldn’t wait to kick some ass and show them exactly why they needed her as a Raper.

  As Mr. Gigundous approached, he eyed her from head to toe, making his interest quite plain. He raked a hand through his shaggy blond hair and gave her a huge smile. Think Hollywood marquee, and then add a few more light bulbs. He looked beyond pleased with what he saw which sorta surprised her because she didn’t think a two-toned purple tank and black yoga pants really did it for most guys.

  That much fanfare with her wearing nothing spectacular meant he was either really hard up. No interest in that at all. Or overacting. Less than no interest in that go round.

  “Hi, I’m KC.”

  He took the hand she outstretched and kissed her knuckles. Of course he didn’t give her hand back. Eww. Lysol.

  “Short and sweet. Dig it. I’m Rage, but twice as gentle. Out of the ring.” He bobbed his eyebrows.

  She wondered if she should raise just an eyebrow in his direction or laugh until she cried. Thankfully he kept talking, eliminating her ability to crush his go-get-her attitude.

  “And what do we owe your visit to today?”

  No point in beating around the bush. “I’m here to try out as a fighter.”

  Guess it was his turn to raise his eyebrows. “Come again.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  He chuckled and finally released her hand. “How old are you? You know we raised the legal fighting age to twenty-one, right?”

  “Old enough, big boy. And I know the rules changed.” They actually crossed over to a later start almost five years ago. To the day. They changed the age from eighteen to twenty-one, right after they’d discovered her in the wings watching the fights. Amusement made her smile but she tried to downplay it.

  “Seems your reputation precedes you again, Rage.”

  Fuck. That voice.

  She’d dreamt of that voice for years.

  KC slowly turned, her breath catching in her throat. Tilting her head up to see the face she’d pictured more times than she cared to admit, she told herself not to smile. Or sigh. Same dark hair, same pretty eyes, and a hard mouth set in a line that allowed no bullshit. But something wasn’t there she’d hoped to see. Prayed would be there on so many sleepless nights.

  Recognition.

  Nothing was there in his expression. Not even a glimmer of anything, which showed her he didn’t know her from any of the next girls wandering in trying to make a name for themselves in the debauchery called The Cage.

  Creed addressed her with a snide tone. “What can I do for you, pretty girl? Looking for directions to get your nails done? Cause this is definitely not the place you’re looking for.”

  Hurt or happy he didn’t recognize her, she wasn’t certain exactly how she felt. “I’m here to try out.” No need to make small talk since the reunion she’d hoped for was apparently cancelled. Plus, giving herself any chance to drool over the man standing less than a handful of feet away seemed like a bad call.

  One of his eyebrows lifted.

  Fuck.

  She’d definitely remembered that mien correctly.

  Who knew an expression of skepticism could make her panties wet? Well. They would have if she’d been wearing panties.

  “Try out for what exactly?” He folded his arms across his chest and stared her down. The fighters in the ring stopped and ogled her. Everyone else in the large room paused whatever they were doing and gawked.

  Intimidation. She could handle that.

  “The Rapers. The Gladi-Rapers. Your esteemed fighters are what I’m here to try out for. To train with. Win for.”

  He smiled, and it was anything but welcoming. “And what do you know of my fighters, little girl.”

  Her hackles were most definitely raised, and she didn’t take kindly to being patronized. Little girl? Although her anger was pricked, she simply shrugged so he didn’t know she cared at all. “Striking averages around seventy percent and takedown defense almost ninety-seven percent. An unheard of percentage in any fighting league. Official.” She looked around and then back to Creed. “Or unofficial. Your ludus currently holds the title in every category except bantamweight female.” She waggled her fingers on her free hand then drug it over the side of her breast, her waist and then off her hip. “Which I happen to qualify for.” She looked around, meeting the gazes of most of the interested parties in the room. “You’re the team I’ve followed for several years. You’re the ones I’m interested in, but there are other teams out there. Several have already expressed interest in me joining their ranks. But I thought I’d give you the first shot.”

  Silence greeted her, and her heart kicked harder against her ribs. Feigning nonchalance had never been as difficult as it was with Creed’s blue eyes drilling into her again.

  “It isn’t as simple as waltzing in here and demanding a try out.”

  “I’m not demanding. I’m simply expressing an interest to try out. If you’re not excepting applications, then that’s that, but it’s not as if you have a billboard out somewhere or a newsletter emailing prospective fighters when and where to show up.”

  “The information is available to those we are interested in.” A mischievous amusement lit something in his eyes that up to that point had been quite dim.

  “Oh.” Her shoulders sagged, and then she smiled, holding out the thick set of papers she’d pulled from her purse earlier. “Would that information have something to do with the test results you require proving I have no STDs? Along with a physical and mental exam proving I’m fit to fight? Plus, a reference from the martial arts sensei I’ve trained under for more than two years, talking about my skill level and rank.” Several people laughed behind her, and she threw them a quick wave with her free hand.

  With a curl of his lip, Creed snatched the papers from her hand, and she barely repressed the urge to give herself a fist pump. Instead, she looked at the nails she’d painted herself. “You’ll notice the last few sheets are the references. I brought four in case one was just a loosely suggested number.”

  He turned to those pages and flipped through them one at a time.

  One of the other guys standing with Creed looked at her paperwork over his shoulder. “Fuck. She has a reference from Jung Doo-hong.”

  “What?” Rage stepped forward to look for himself. Pegging her with a fair bit of awe, he asked, “The stunt fighter?”

  “The very one,” she said in a frosty tone, then gave him a smirk.

  “Did you meet him here in the states?” the guy next to Creed asked as Creed flipped the pages back to the start to reread. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and she almost felt bad for him. Almost.

  KC shook her head. “Not initially. I earned a scholarship several years ago to do an internship at the Seoul Action School in Korea for a semester. He happened to come back between films to teach my class. He was amazing. We kept in contact afterward and he’s come to my dojo a couple times in recent past.”

  “Shit yeah, that guy’s a legend.” Rage clapped her on the shoulder. “Hell for awesome.”

  “Get back to training.” The low rumble of Creed’s voice sent shivers up her spine. He didn’t so much as look up at any of them, but they got the gist no matter.

  Slowly, each of them crept back to what they’d been up to before she came in and threw Creed’s day into a tizzy.

  Soon all that was left was him and her.

  Alone in a room full of people acting as though they weren’t waiting for him to get through the info she’d brought him.

  She waited...and waited. Skimming her paperwork was apparently not his style. His attention to detail totally turned her on. Cocking a hip, she planted a fist on that side and watched him.

  His lips. Even more kissable than they were the last time she’d seen them telling her to get out. His hair was a bit longer, and she won
dered what it would feel like with her fingers sinking deep into that thickness as he took her.

  The guy who’d initially been looking at her info over Creed’s shoulder stepped back up to him and said something too low for her to hear. Creed listened, added something growly, and then went back to her paperwork. The guy nodded and moved past her with a grin.

  She grinned and added another wink, just to be cheeky, before turning her attention back to the owner who literally held her immediate future in his hands.

  The thick fingers he used to flip pages called to her, and she wanted to lick her pussy juice off of them. His cock beneath his fly jerked, and she bit her bottom lip. Could mean nothing. Could mean everything.

  At the end of the papers, he closed them all, rolled them up and crossed his arms.

  She smiled at him, waiting for him to throw her out again. Telling herself it didn’t matter, was only going to help to a certain extent.

  For only a flick of a second, his gaze darted over her shoulder.

  That was all the time she needed to shrug her purse off her shoulder and plant her feet squarely on the floor.

  Someone grabbed her from behind. Their arms were huge. Had to be a big dude, so she used his momentum and went completely limp.

  “Oh, fuck,” he cursed behind her as he tried to grab for her, but she swung her leg out and around, jacking him off his feet. Going down hard, she decided to be nice to him and swung her purse over, so his head landed on it instead of the non-forgiving concrete.

  Kneeling next to him, she laughed at the stunned look on his face.

  “That was righteous.” One of the guys around the ring gave her a thumbs up and then went back to what he was doing. Sort of.

  KC stared down at her would-be attacker.

  He smiled up at her. “Had to see if you had as much gumption as your resume said you did. I do believe you are who you say you are. No hard feelings?” His eyebrows raised at the end, and she laughed as she stood, offering her hand. He took it, and she helped pull him to his feet.

  “No offense taken. I’d have been shocked if the tryout process was as simple as a ‘stand here, and we’re going to come at you in three, two…’”