by Dawn Steele
He was?
“So how do you think I can mend my relationship with Taran?”
Blair pursed her lips. “Well, Vi, you are my best friend in the world. But you can be such an ass sometimes.”
“Huh?” Kendra was surprised.
“It’s true. I have to tell you the truth. Taran has been nothing but loving and kind and good to you. But you don’t want him to be. Well, not all of the time anyway.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you want your boyfriend to be a bit of an ass sometimes. You want him to take charge. Be in control. You don’t want him to put you first in everything he does. In short, you want him to be a bad boy.”
Kendra was stunned. That was insightful. The irony was that Taran was everything she wanted in a guy and not what Violet wanted. And yet, he was Violet’s. She had to change him for Violet’s sake.
“Should I try to change him then?” she asked dubiously. Was it a good thing to try to change someone for someone else’s sake? Especially when it was not for the better?
But who was she to define what was better anyway?
Blair said, “Absolutely. If you want him to go caveman on you, then you should totally drop hints.”
“I can’t tell him straight?”
“Oh, no. That would be too intimidating. For him, I mean. Not for you, since you’re hardly intimidated by anything.”
“Then how would I let him know?”
Blair smiled. “Leave it to me. I know exactly what to do.”
THE FIGHT
The fight was held in a private arena in an abandoned warehouse area. No street lamps heralded their approach as Ronnie drove into the dark parking lot. And yet, the parking lot was filled with cars, even the more expensive ones like Camaros and BMWs.
“This is a very secret fight,” Ronnie explained.
“You mean it’s illegal?” Violet was beginning to get really uneasy about the whole thing.
“Kind of.”
Ronnie parked. They both slipped out to the back of the warehouse. Ronnie knocked three times on a door, and a heavily muscled man opened it.
“You’re late,” he said gruffly.
“I made it,” Ronnie replied.
They followed the man through a warren of corridors. Through the walls, Violet could hear the thump-thump-thump of loud rock music and the swell of raucous voices.
They delved into a changing room.
“This is where we put our gear,” Ronnie said.
He began to strip. Violet stared.
“You’re not going out naked.”
“No. I’m going to wear my cloak.” Ronnie pulled on a pair of tight leather pants with studs. His crotch was very prominently outlined. “Help me with these.”
Violet helped him strap on wrist cuffs and arm straps.
“What is this?” she said. “WWE?”
“Of sorts. People dig the spectacle. They pay a lot of money to see this.” Ronnie finally donned his blood red cloak.
Violet was stunned. “You look like Captain America.”
“Who’s that?”
“Never mind.”
The door to the changing room opened. The gruff man appeared.
“They’re calling for you,” he said.
“OK. Showtime.” Ronnie winked at Violet.
She wondered how he could be so confident. Did he know something she didn’t?
From the changing room, it was only a short distance to the arena.
“Stay in the tunnel at all times,” Ronnie cautioned. “You aren’t allowed in the ring.”
There was indeed a tunnel with a light at the end of it. It opened out to the arena. The music was very loud here, especially since the sounds ricocheted against the tunnel walls. The swell of chanting voices assailed Violet’s ears.
She had a bad feeling about this.
There were several people at the mouth of the tunnel, including a beautiful girl in a slinky red costume. There must be a superhero theme going on here, Violet decided. The girl favored Violet with a curious stare. She must be the other wolf’s handmaiden.
“Wish me luck,” Ronnie said.
“Wait, Ronnie?” Violet grabbed his forearm.
He stopped, amused. She tiptoed to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“For luck,” she whispered.
The smile that plastered across his face was genuine.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I feel lucky already.”
Violet didn’t know why she did that – only that she was scared for Ronnie in a way she had never been scared for anyone before.
Ronnie turned to walk out of the tunnel and into the bright indoor arena. The gruff man held up a hand to stop Violet from following.
“Stay here,” he said unnecessarily.
I wasn’t going to go in there, Violet thought acidly.
As Ronnie entered the arena, the swell of hundreds of voices suddenly grew louder.
Violet clung to the mouth of the tunnel, as did the girl in red. She stole a look at the girl’s face and realized that the girl was in love with her alpha, Grant Carter.
Out in the arena, Ronnie faced off with Grant Carter, who was clad in a cloak of black. They both dropped their cloaks at the same time to a roar of approval.
Violet remembered the rules:
1. NO WEAPONS.
2. YOU MUST REMAIN IN YOUR HUMAN FORM FOR TEN MINUTES.
3. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CHANGE TO YOUR WEREWOLF FORM AFTER THE BELL RINGS.
4. THE FIGHT WILL CONTINUE UNTIL ONE OF YOU IS KNOCKED OUT OR DEAD.
Dead!
That was what got her into such a tizzy. In an illegal fight, there were no rules.
She surveyed the crowd. In a box seat, she could see Caleb and his son, Joseph.
Grant Carter was a very tall, imposing black man. His arms were the size of tree trunks. His body was as hard as a rock, from what Violet could see of him from the tunnel. His face was craggy and chiseled – the face of a man who had taken a lot of punches and lived through it all.
Violet felt like panicking. No wonder the odds were stacked against Ronnie six to one. He must be crazy to take this fight on. Ronnie looked like a college pretty boy jock next to this seasoned, hardened fighter.
Then the bell rang.
The two fighters launched themselves at each other.
THE SUGGESTION
Taran entered the pub and looked around for his appointment date. He saw her at a side table, waving at him cheerily. He went over to her, smiling.
“Hi, Blair.”
“Hi, Taran. You’re looking marvelous, as always.”
“As are you.”
They exchanged kisses on their cheeks. Blair would always be beautiful to Taran, even though their strange relationship had not worked out over ten years ago – a fact that neither of them had told Violet.
They both sat down.
A waiter came over. “What can I get you?”
“A pint of Guinness, please,” Taran said.
“Returning to your roots?” Blair said mischievously.
Taran laughed. “I can always do with a Guinness or two.”
“Remember, I still have first rights to your official biography.”
“There’s already an unofficial one.”
“I know. I brought it with me.” Blair slid the book across the table.
The title of the book was ‘TARAN DEVERE, ENGLAND’S YOUNGEST SELF-MADE BILLIONAIRE’. Taran knew exactly what the contents were about. They had been mostly about his carefully constructed public relations persona – well-to-do foster parents, home schooling, Cambridge. Then his foray into the Internet world during his college days.
Taran had been a hacker, and a damned good one. He let them focus on the ‘The Social Network’ aspect of his life. Anything that came before that he preferred to let remain a mystery.
Taran deVere wasn’t even his real name.
Their drinks came. Taran took a sip of his Guinness.
“What did you call me here for?” he asked. “Is this another bid to write the real history of my life?”
“Maybe.” Blair smiled at him. “You know, I’ve missed you.”
“You miss the idea of me.”
“I miss the old Taran. He was a real firecracker.”
“He was a real troublemaker, more like.”
“He was really wild in bed.”
Taran grinned. “You mean I’m not wild now?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Sure you do. You girls talk all the time. You just chose to keep our former acquaintance a secret from Vi.”
“You chose to keep your entire former life a secret from the world. But you know, Taran, things like these are bound to spill sometime.”
“What’s this really about, Blair? You threatening me?” Taran’s tone was mild.
“Now why would I want to do that to you?”
“One wonders.”
“I’ve always been very fond of you, Taran, especially when you weren’t you.” Blair smiled assuredly. “I’ve always found your life story to be one of the most amazing transformations ever. Many people can only dream of being who they’ve always wanted to be. You actually made it happen.”
“You mean it’s better than the ‘Prince and the Pauper’?”
“I was thinking more of ‘My Fair Lady’.”
Taran smirked. “My fair rent boy.”
“And the snob who loved him.”
“You didn’t love me. We were both too young to know what love was.”
Blair said softly, “It was love to me then.”
“You weren’t a snob. And you’re going to marry Henry now. He loves you. That’s true love.”
“Part of me will always miss what we were, Taran.”
Taran loosened his tie uncomfortably. “What is this really about, Blair? You didn’t call me here to talk about old times.”
“Then I’ll be honest with you, as I always have been.”
Taran had always been amazed at the way Blair was around him and the completely different way she was with other people. Like her friends, for instance. She became this ditzy Barbie who tittered and squealed at the slightest things when everyone knew she was bright as fuck. It was as though she was trying to run for a popularity contest.
“Be yourself,” he wanted to tell her. But who was he to say that, right? He was the original chameleon.
Blair said, “It’s about Vi.”
Figures.
Violet was the one woman he had ever really, really loved. With his sordid past, Taran had sworn that he would never open his heart to another human being. And yet, there was something about confident, larger-than-life Violet that called out to his inner consciousness.
This was a woman who was not afraid to be who and what she was.
But he knew – as certainly as the sun set in the west – that their relationship was slowly grinding to a natural demise. And he somehow knew that his current incarnation – the man he had always wanted to be – was not enough for Violet.
“Do spill,” he said nonchalantly. Inside, his heart was hammering against his ribcage like a bunch of furious carpenters.
She doesn’t know.
No one does.
Even I don’t know for sure.
“You’re losing her.”
“Tell me something new.”
“You’re not exciting enough.”
“The irony of it.” He flashed a lopsided grin.
“Maybe that’s what you need to do.” Blair tossed her blonde head. “Take her. Throw her over your shoulder and go upstairs with her. Then fling her on your bed and make wild, passionate love to her.”
“Like what I used to do to you?”
“Yes.” Her smile was bittersweet. “You still have it in you.”
“It’s been a long time since I was that kid.”
“Then do it. For my best friend.”
“You sure about this?”
“Of course.”
He smiled, too. “You’re a good friend, Blair.”
He saw the tinge of sadness on her face.
She said, “A better one than you think.”
DUEL
The other alpha was bigger than him, Ronnie noted. That much was clear. But he had the advantage of being underestimated.
The bell rang. Somewhere in that tunnel, he knew that Kendra was watching him. He couldn’t fail her. He had come so far with her. And now she was beginning to understand that he couldn’t help who he fell in love with – that the moment he laid eyes on her, he felt the calling deep in his soul. He needed her to belong to him.
That was why he couldn’t let her down.
He launched at Grant Carter, whom he knew would anticipate his descent. So he feinted and caught Grant in the jaw with a kick.
The crowd roared at the first contact.
Ronnie was trained in various martial arts, courtesy of his late father. Grant swung at him, and Ronnie dived. They exchanged blows and punches, blocking fists and kicks with their forearms. They parried and cleaved, hooked and jabbed. Grant’s blows landed more harshly than Ronnie’s, but Ronnie was faster and more agile because he was lighter.
The blows started to become harder. Ronnie sustained a cut on his right eyebrow that was starting to leak blood into his eye. Grant had a nick on his chest, caused by Ronnie’s wrist stud. The crowd roared and yelled their approval.
The truth about this contest was that there would be no time limit. No time out for recovery either. Like animals, they would fight until there was only one left standing.
Then the bell rang.
The ten minutes were up.
This was the part of the contest that the crowd liked the best. The ripping of leather clothes as skin and flesh expanded. The sprouting of fur. The reshaping of skull and bone. The electric tingle in the atmosphere as two men became the primal animals they really were.
Maybe the metaphor resounded too well with the audience. We are all beasts under our skin.
In his werewolf mode, Ronnie could only see the world in black and white. But everything became sharper, brighter. Each living form radiated with an aura. Smells became more pronounced. He could focus on what he needed to better.
The werewolf that had once been Grant Carter was enormous. He stood large and proud, and he was black all over, right down to his obsidian eyes. His canines were the size of fingers.
The two wolves sprang at each other. Now it was all about snapping teeth and clawing limbs. Fur flew. Fangs flashed and gleamed. Talons sank into hides.
The savagery had begun.
But it was in his wolf form that Ronnie was underestimated the most.
As a child, he had been the most ferocious fighter in the clan.
“My future alpha,” his father had proudly pronounced. “We’ll make a hustler out of you yet.”
When Ronnie grew up, he had the all American boy look. Tall, handsome and beautiful, he was the quintessential dumb jock. He didn’t look like a brawler, and yet he was. That was why he was the perfect hustler for the wolf fight world. People underestimated his pretty boy looks. People bet against him.
Until he showed them.
Ronnie was fast, but he had to admit that Grant Carter’s size was bearing down on him. There was only one thing to do. Go for the jugular. His father had taught him how to kill without conscience during a fight.
Kill or be killed, boy. There ain’t no honor in the fighting world.
He was fast enough. As a wolf, he had incredible neck-twisting power. Just one nip at the right opportunity, even if he had to sacrifice a leg.
He was getting his chance.
Grant sank his teeth into Ronnie’s haunch. This was the moment! Ronnie twisted his neck at a one hundred and eighty degree angle. His teeth were bared. Grant’s neck was exposed at the side, and his teeth were engaged in trying to tear a piece of Ronnie’s flesh off.
Then Ronnie saw something weird.
Within the box seat
, Joseph aimed a strange sort of crossbow at him. It was small, and the crowd was so focused on what was going on that no one else noticed it.
Joseph pulled the trigger. Some sort of projectile struck Ronnie in the flank.
He immediately felt his muscles weakening.
Oh shit. They were taking no chances on bringing him down.
Grant Carter’s wolf closed in for the kill. In the tunnel somewhere, he thought he could hear Kendra scream.
THE SEDUCTION
The text on her cellphone was clear:
“Please join me for dinner at my home tonight at eight. A car will be waiting.
All my love,
Taran.”
Kendra couldn’t help smiling. Well, he was trying. She was trying (on Violet’s behalf). She wondered what Blair had said to him.
Blair’s SMS had been more cryptic:
“Mission accomplished.”
Mission accomplished? Kendra didn’t dare to ask any more just in case it was some code phrase that both Blair and Violet shared.
The eagle has landed.
Mission accomplished.
The hot air balloon has exploded.
Oh, this deception thing was tough!
She checked her email. Still no message from Violet. She hoped everything was all right. As long as she managed to keep Ronnie at bay while he did his alpha thing.
She went into the walk-in closet (how she loved that closet!) and selected a midnight blue dress that make her eyes sparkle. She found a pair of sapphire and diamond earrings in a vanity chest. Kendra wasn’t the sort of woman to be bowled over by jewelry, mainly because she had never had anything more precious than a bead necklace. But she could start a new chapter now. She definitely could.
She made herself look as beautiful as possible. It was strange. How she looked had never mattered to her before because she wasn’t interested in attracting any of the men in her clan, but she wanted to look beautiful now. Even though she knew Taran was besotted with Violet (Violet, not me!), a deep part of her wanted Taran to see her – see her for herself, not Violet – and love her for who she was.