HerCreed-ARE-epub Page 5

  Another fighter grabbed Creed by the arm. They exchanged heated words she couldn’t hear, then Creed threw the guy’s hand off and stormed away.

  Her head dropped, smacking the mat. Common sense had nothing to do with her need for the man stalking away from her.

  She needed him and had no clue if she’d blown the one chance she had at making him proud.

  Her.

  CK.

  He’d known she’d lied about her name before.

  Didn’t realize how close to the truth it had been though.

  Not until today.

  He wiped blood from his lip onto his pants—right next to the wet spot her pussy left on it when he’d trapped her on the ground.

  Her remembered heat made his cock twitch, and he wanted to roar until they all heard him.

  Mine.

  Trying to forget her had become his life’s goal. Hadn’t worked. Not a day since he’d found her inside the stadium had passed without him thinking of her. Wondering if she was okay. Safe. He’d recognized her the moment he turned the corner into the arena.

  Nearly fell over when he caught sight of her in those fuck-me yoga pants. The need to growl at everyone else around ogling her was still threatening to erupt.

  Marcus had tried to stop him once he fled the ring. She was good. Really good. Innate talent, they could absolutely use and hone into a fighter to be reckoned with, lived inside her.

  He didn’t want to hear it.

  He wasn’t feeling particularly…reasonable.

  The thought of her losing, being taken by someone else...

  Ripping someone apart for following the rules of the game was frowned upon even in their world.

  He knew the rules. He’d invented them.

  Business was thriving. The ludus was off the charts kicking ass.

  He didn’t need a woman distracting him.

  “Boss?” Boomer poked his head in. “Can we keep her?” He might as well have been wagging his fucking tail.

  No. Absolutely not. We don’t need her. She’s going to be nothing but trouble. Kick her ass out and tell her never to come back. “Yes.”

  Boomer smiled.

  Lord help them all.

  Chapter Four

  Sweat ran off her chin, and she ducked to avoid Boomer’s huge ass fist as it came at her head.

  “Good evasion.” He backed up a step and came at her again, trying to knee her in the ribs.

  She literally climbed him like a tree, hung around his neck and wrenched his whole body forward, onto the mat. Scrambling to end up on top, she pinned him with an arm behind his back. His wrist nearly made it to between his shoulder blades before he tapped the mat. “Love it when I get you to tap out.” Flopping over onto her back on the mat, she panted and tried to catch her breath.

  They’d been at it all day. Training was a bitch.

  But at least it was a bitch in heat. Epic amounts of energy, need clawing through her muscles, and she’d never been as driven as she was to get to represent the Rapers at the next fight.

  “You know, if we were fighting for real, I’d never tap out, right?”

  KC laughed and looked sideways to stare at him. Thankfully, he looked just as beat as she felt. “Just because you were fighting a girl, or no tapping out at all?”

  Opening one eyelid, he looked a bit peeved. “Being a chick has nothing to do with it.”

  She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “But what if someone had you pinned with your arm straight back and forced it up and up and up. They have all the leverage. You can’t get away, and if you don’t tap that arm’s gonna pop out of the socket.”

  “So be it.” He shrugged. “Here, being extreme is part of the draw.”

  “For the fans or for you?”

  His smile was answer enough.

  “You are one sick puppy, Boomer.”

  He shrugged, and then closed his eyes again. “Eh, this is what I want to do. Where I want to be. A Raper. It suits me. And I’m here for good, not like some other people I know.”

  “Shh,” KC looked around, but thankfully the few others that were still there so late weren’t paying any attention to them. “Nobody else knows I’m not sticking around past the summer.”

  “I know. I’m special.”

  Rolling her eyes came quite naturally, being around Boomer. They’d fallen into an easy friendship in the two weeks she’d been training with them. “Humble, too.”

  “Humble Two. Sounds like some kind of vehicle.” He stared at her. “If you actually get to a title match, I’m almost sorry I won’t be able to fight you.”

  She’d learned all of the new rules in the first week, including how the matches were assigned. All of the low level matches followed gender and size guidelines like boxing or any mixed martial arts match did.

  Only when a fighter advanced to an upper rung of the fighting circuit, would they face an opposite gender. And it was normally only permitted with title fights and extremely rare specialty matches.

  But no one from the same house could fight each other.

  No sport in it, and KC completely agreed. She enjoyed sparring with Boomer and Rage and Jackal and the Vipers, a set of blonde twins fierce as all get out, but it wasn’t the same as fighting someone you wanted to crush. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

  “Shoot,” he said, without opening his eyes.

  “What ever happened to a fighter named, The Sword?”

  His eyes popped open, and he stared at her. “Arthur? How do you know about Arthur?”

  Uhh… “I heard someone else around here talking about him.” Totally a lie.

  “He got caught breaking and entering in a neighbor’s house a few years back. Went to the pen for a while. Had a rough past. Don’t know how he’s doing now. Funny. Hadn’t thought about him in forever.”

  KC had wondered about the other fighter since she hadn’t seen him in the weeks she’d been training. She bit her lip. “Can I ask another question? A personal one.”

  “Sure.”

  Took a second to word it right in her head before she spoke. Offending him wasn’t what she was after. “Your wife’s really okay with you fucking somebody else? Girl, guy, whatever? She’s cool with it?” She meant to make it a statement, but it still came out as a question.

  “Totally fine with it. We’ve played around with other people and other couples the entire time we’ve been together. It’s hot.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Any other stipulations on it?”

  “We talk about it afterward. Reconnect. Fuck like rabbits. That’s super hot.”

  And for Boomer, it seemed that was it. It was simple. They were fine with whatever. Good kinky fun. Didn’t fuck with their relationship, because they didn’t let it. So hot, yet… She’d tried picturing it for herself.

  It was easy for her to fuck someone else or get fucked by them because she had no prior commitments. No sacred relationship she’d guard against all else to keep safe and unharmed.

  If she had that special someone, she actually liked the idea of monogamy. Only being with that other person who thought she hung the moon, and who was made of Christmas magic and Hanukkah reverence and fairy dust and joy and wonder.

  Someone she could be...enough...for.

  That’s what she wanted.

  And just because Creed’s face flashed across the back of her closed eyelids meant nothing. Seriously. Less than nothing. It didn’t matter that it was still his face she pictured when she came. In the shower, in bed…in the car on the way home from training because she couldn’t make it without getting off thinking about him.

  It meant nothing.

  Nothing.

  Boomer cleared his throat. “But seriously. Why haven’t you told the boss you’re not sticking around?”

  “I want to fight.”

  “He’d still let you fight.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Apparently, it was Boomer’s turn to roll his eyes.
“You’re a great fighter. And I’ve known some good fighters. You’re a natural at this. And I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass.”

  “Being good doesn’t mean he’s going to let me fight, especially if I come with an expiration date.”

  “I think you underestimate his desire to win.”

  “And I think you overestimate his generosity.”

  He looked at her for a second too long and then he closed his eyes and faced the ceiling again.

  “What?” she asked, not at all certain she wanted to know what he was thinking.

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh my gawd, did you really just try to tell me nothing, like some chick on the rag?”

  His snicker made his shoulders jump. “You are such a dude.”

  “No, I’m not. I even have a physical to prove it. Now, stop evading the question. What was that look for?”

  “Do you and Creed have a history?”

  “Uhh…” She really didn’t know how to answer him, so she decided to act oblivious instead. “What do you mean?” She almost looked at her nails, feigning nonchalance but she laid flat on the mat again instead. Avoiding eye contact? Yes, she was. Holding her breath? Yeah. That too.

  “He is so fucking grouchy around you it’s almost comical.”

  “I’ve noticed. And he’s not like that with the other fighters. Not even the female ones.”

  He shook his head. “He’s not like that with anyone. Ever. And I’ve known him a seriously long time.”

  “How long have you been fighting for him?”

  “Fighting for almost ten years. For the Rapers almost four. Started out in boxing, thought it was going to be my sport. Got boring.”

  “Got boring,” KC answered with him. “For me too. Never fought professionally at all, but saw some matches, and it was just blah.”

  “Exactly. I’d always liked martial arts, found MMA, and then on a dare from a friend I came to The Cage to see a match. Thought they were joking when they said what happened. Shocked the hell out of me. Think I jerked off non-stop for two weeks. Oh, my poor wife.” His smile said he wasn’t at all sorry.

  “So you fight, fuck, train.”

  He nodded. “Rinse an’ repeat.”

  Boomer struggled to his feet, and she blinked her eyes open as he offered a hand to her. She threw a hand in his direction, and he yanked her off the mat. “Okay, let’s run takedowns again, and then we’ll call it a night.”

  “I was wondering if you two were going to get back to work tonight, or just continue with the slumber party you had going on in the middle of my ring. You know there are other fighters who wanted to train in there tonight, but I told them you guys had it. Would hate to think I made the wrong choice. Regarding either of you.”

  Talk. About. Pissy.

  “Excuse me, Mr. High and Mighty,” KC popped up with the first come back.

  “Oh, Lord. Here we go,” groused Boomer, rubbing a hand down his face.

  “We’ve been training since before seven this morning, and it’s, what now? After eight?” She tried to look at the clock on the far wall, but her vision was tinged with red at his obnoxious tone. “By my simple math, that’s thirteen hours, and we only took a couple thirty minute breaks to eat and talk strategy.”

  “Mmhmm.” His disinterested tone got under her skin as he stepped into the ring. “Cry me a river. You’re a Raper now. We’re the best out there. We don’t get it by lying around and talking about nail polish and cats.”

  Boomer laughed, and pulled KC into a hug. “On that note, I’m out. Play nice, kids.” He clapped Creed on the back and deserted her. Just like that he was gone.

  Creed watched him go, and then pegged her with those baby blues. “We need to talk.”

  Oh fuck. He knows who I am. He knows I’m leaving. Oh fuck he—

  “I’m fighting you this weekend, which only gives us six days to get your branding done, costumes created, promo dispersed. Photoshoot has to come first. A shit-ton of stuff.” All business, he made all of that sound as if it were work, but for KC it was…everything.

  She wanted to collapse into a puddle of happy girl in the middle of the mat. Instead, she let out a whoop and jumped up and down. Her excitement got the better of her, and she raced up to Creed and hugged him tight.

  “Uhh,” he said.

  She quickly breathed him in and then let go. “Sorry. Just super excited, and nobody else to pounce on.” She played it off as no big deal. Just because she still would have hugged him if there had been a stadium full of people to choose from meant nothing. Next to nothing? Whatever. Semantics. Sort of. “Where do we start?” She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet barely able to contain her excitement.

  “You have to pick your Gladi-Raper name so we can build a persona around you.”

  She’d been thinking about it for—years, but she had something to ask first before she chose. “Can I ask a question before I tell you what I’m thinking?”

  He nodded once, the muscles in his jaw already working.

  “Why Gladiators?”

  “Simple. That concept is very similar. Train under different houses. Ludus. Take on a new name. Fight to win honor, glory and free-for-all sex. It’s dirty and animalistic and hot. Winner take all.”

  “Sex and violence,” she offered.

  “Exactly. We each fight for sport. Distraction. It’s delicious. Bloody. So, what do you want to be called?”

  “I. Am. Spartacus.” She danced around him and yelled it again. Jumping up and down, she laughed, happier than she’d been in a very long time.

  He almost smiled.

  Almost, but just glared harder at her instead.

  She finally stopped. “So. Can I have it?” She batted her eyelashes at him again and waited.

  He tilted his head a bit to the side, staring at her.

  Felt like inside her.

  She fought the need to fidget.

  “Why?”

  “Why did I pick the name? Or why should you let me have it?”

  “Both. And I want the truth. You give me anything less, and I’ll name you the Trash Collector.”

  That look in his eye. He meant it.

  She nibbled her lip and thought very carefully about her words. Wanting to be honest was tempered with her need to protect herself. And her past. “He was captured by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He fought for his freedom for all of the right reasons, and a few he had no control over. He never forgot what he was fighting for. Not ever. And she never lost herself no matter how many people tried to take her self-identity from her. Him, I meant. From him.”

  Looking at the mat, she tried desperately to keep her emotions in check. Attempting not to say too much didn’t work at all. Glancing to one side and then the other, she made sure he was the only one aware of her loss of composure. Him seeing was bad enough. He’d probably use it as an excuse not to fight her since she was being a total girl about nothing but a name.

  “And?” he prompted.

  She wiped her bangs off her forehead with both hands. Surreptitiously getting rid of a tear that had slipped free was purely coincidental. “And what?” Getting any more emotional did nothing for her. Wanting to slink away and hide from his all too seeing gaze sounded much more along her lines of a good time.

  “And why should I let you have it?”

  “Easy. No one else will fight harder to earn it. No one else here has wanted to be a Raper longer than I have. And no one else will put their all into making you proud.”

  Fuck. Could she not shut up? Rubbing her lips together, she waited, determined not to say another word.

  His eyebrows pulled low. “And how long have you wanted to fight in The Cage? I don’t remember seeing that in your dossier.”

  “A long time. A very, very long time.” Warmth spread inside her chest as he stared at her. “I actually can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be here.” Very true. Evasive, but very true.

  For a few moments long
er, he studied her, and then finally he nodded.

  “Umm… So is that an, I understand and you’re ridiculous, suck it up girl? Or an, I’d be honored for you to have that name to represent the Rapers? Just so I can decipher your nods in the future.”

  His lips twitched, and he actually gave into the impulse to smile.

  Fuck, he wrecked her when he grinned like that.

  “How about, the name is yours, and we’ll see how the rest falls into place.”

  Tears stung her eyes again, but she laughed and kept them from falling. “Deal!”

  He either knew how close her emotions were to the surface or was completely oblivious and moved right onto the next topic. “Are you stuck on your hair color or do you want to change it?”

  “Uhh… Hmm…” It came so close on the heels of her reunion with her feels, it took her a minute to process what she thought. “I’ve always kind of wanted to be a blonde. Never wanted to do it myself though. Afraid I’d end up looking like Oscar the Grouch.” She made a horrified face. “Or all my hair would fall out. Red!”

  He snickered. “I’ve got a friend at one of the salons in town. She’s awesome. If you want to go with blonde highlights or something, we could make that happen.”

  She nodded once. “Sounds scary slash fun.”

  “Done. And length? I’d say—”

  “Long. Short hair, and I will never meet. I think we’re allergic to each other. Like opposites attracting, but not.”

  “I was gonna say, keep it long. Looks good on you. But you’re going to have to do something with it when you fight.”

  “Agreed. Girls are hair pullers.”

  “So are the guys if you get high enough in the rankings to fight some.”

  “What about making it part of my entrance? One of the other female Rapers could come up and braid it for me. Pin it up. We could taunt the crowd a bit. Make out. Just a thought.”

  He considered it for a minute, and then nodded. “And that was a, yes, sounds hot, nod in case you couldn’t decipher it.”

  She smiled. “Appreciate the info.”

  “Costume? Most of the Rapers go with Gladiator based themes. Not a requirement, but I like it better.”