“Knock it off,” I say, playfully hitting his chest, trying to break the tension that you could easily cut with a knife. Not any ordinary knife, though. We’re going to need a huge butcher knife to slice through the thickness.
“I’m so serious.” His devious stare is nothing compared to when his hands grip onto the bones in my hips, squeezing. More betrayal occurs as my body rocks into him.
“Garrett, not here,” I whisper, trying yet again to stand.
“Oh, no, Rian. Exactly here. Everyone’s gone home and I have this whole gym to myself. There are so many things I want to do to you.” Pulling me down onto him, I don’t put up much of a fight.
Placing his lips within millimeters of mine, it’s me that fulfills the touch, no longer able to withstand him. Before I know it, I’m again flat on my back, only this time, Garrett slips his hand into the waistband of my shorts, making his way to my core. I arch my back, giving him better access while our tongues battle for control.
Manipulating my body, Garrett applies enough pressure to my clit, circling softly. I try to beg for more, but he swallows my pleas. It’s when he places two fingers inside my pussy and the heel of his hand presses against that bundle of nerves that I come apart on his hand, trying my hardest to wiggle away from him after an intense orgasm, but he doesn’t relent.
Garrett quickly divests me of my shorts, and without hesitation, buries his head between my thighs and has me on the brink again. His Mohawk’s grown out longer, giving me a thin strip of hair to hold on to for dear life while his tongue lashes against my over sensitized clit. Within seconds, I’m coming against his mouth.
Peeking at me, still nestled between my legs, his dangerous blue eyes dance with mischief as he retreats, wiping my essence off his face with the bottom of his shirt. Handing me my shorts, he stands and walks to the corner of the ring.
“Now, let’s try this again since you’re calm. Can’t be fighting when you’re frustrated.”
Shoving my legs inside the spandex type material, I can’t help but giggle to myself. Garrett’s proven yet again that he knows me better than I know myself. After twenty more minutes, I’m finally able to take him down and Garrett rewards me with some of the hottest sex of my life in the middle of the exact same ring.
I doubt I’ll ever be able to look at a boxing ring the same ever again.
“Rian,” Garrett calls, breaking me from my thoughts. Not just any memory, though. This is one that I store away in my version of a spank bank, ready to use any time the mood strikes.
“Sorry, yeah.”
“You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” Garrett places a strange shaped helmet over my head, one that really only protects the top and my ears, and buckles it at the bottom. Thankfully, he’s thought ahead and given me a pair of sparring gloves. I know in an actual fight, there won’t be any type of protection across my knuckles, and I really hope that when I strike him today, there’s going to be enough cushion that I won’t hurt him.
With my gloves firmly in place, I tap them together and wait in the middle of the ring while Garrett suits up. When he’s ready, he hops back and forth on the balls of his feet, cracking his neck from side to side. I swallow hard and mirror his actions.
“Same thing as before, don’t look where you’re gonna hit me, it’ll just let me know how to block you. Movement is your best friend. Boxers and fighters don’t do it for looks or show; it’s a part of their armor. Now strike.”
Following his instructions, I continue dancing around the ring while throwing out test punches, my body hopping with every step because of the bounce in the mat. I’m not sure how hard to hit him, or if he’s going to hit me back. Once I gain a little more confidence, my first jab toward his jaw is blocked.
“Gotta do better. I saw that coming before you even threw it out.” Shit, okay, breathe and focus.
Staring at his jaw, I fake out and take a shot for his kidney, which lands. His smile fuels me, knowing I’ve just impressed him. Repeating the same tactic, I focus on the right side of his face; my right hand connects gently with the scruff on the left side of his face.
“Try a combination. Hit me multiple times.”
Cracking my neck, much like Garrett did moments ago, I work in my head what the best combination’s going to be to inflict the most damage. Flashes of my altercation with Tom run through my mind, and I try to imitate my actions from that day. Garrett hasn’t told me to use my legs, but on instinct, my knee rises, making contact with his stomach, and just as Tom did, Garrett falls forward. Using his slight weakening, I attack, and as soon as my hand hits his face, he falters backward.
Almost running on autopilot, adrenalin as my co-captain, I wrap my arms around his legs and take him to the ground and mount his waist. With tears swimming in my eyes, I don’t stop, and move to strike his face when he grabs my wrists and pulls me down to him.
“Shhhhhh, it’s okay,” he coos, comforting me as I lay heaving and sobbing on his chest.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to,” I cry, sucking in too much air, causing me to hiccup at the end of every word.
“You did mean to. This came from somewhere deep, Rian. I can only assume it’s because of what happened with your mom’s husband. You were excellent.”
“I wasn’t going to stop. I wanted to keep going.”
Pulling my face up so our eyes can meet, the only thing I see in his depths is pride. “When you’re in a fight, you have to use everything you have. The fighting isn’t going to be a problem for you, it’ll be the control. You have to learn to manage your anger and fight smart. You can’t let the fight consume you.”
“This is all a mistake. The fight’s always going to win. Tom’s always going to win.” Garrett grips my cheeks tighter, placing a firm kiss on my forehead.
“He didn’t win then, he won’t now. Everything that’s happened in your life has led you to this point. You have to be the one to decide if you’re going to let it eat you alive or if you’re gonna kick it in the dick and push forward. You’ve never been one of those weak girls, Rian. I refuse to let you start being her now.”
At that moment, Zan walks in through the front doors and makes his way to the edge of the ring, resting on the corner pillar. “How’s our girl doing?”
Garrett looks at me, then to Zan, back to me and finally rests on Zan. “She’s ready.”
“What?” There’s no possible way I’m ready. He just said I had more things to learn. Oh hell.
“You sure?”
“I know this girl better than anyone in the world. She took me down, she’s got passion behind every hit, and once she hits the zone, she’s gonna be unstoppable. We’d be dumb to not put her on a ticket.”
“Alright, I’ll call around and find an event that needs a female. Make me proud, Rian.”
I nod my head, unable to speak, unsure of what lies ahead, but knowing deep in my heart Garrett would never put me in a situation he wasn’t absolutely sure I’d succeed. Other than his mom, he’s the only person left that has my best interests in mind.
****
Over the next week, while Zan finds me a fight, training has been more intense. I’m spending more time in an ice bath than actually sparring. Garrett’s faith in me is the only thing pushing me through. I’ve let him down once and I’ll never do it again.
We’ve both decided that it’s pointless for both of us to have our own apartments since we’re constantly together unless I’m working at the bar, which is a lot less than before. Since his unit is bigger, we packed up all my stuff and moved it over yesterday. I’m still not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but it feels like I’m finally in the right place in my life. Kind of what Garrett said before. Also, it doesn’t hurt that living above the gym gives us all kinds of access for crazy, out of control sex.
Everything that’s happened in your life has led you to this point.
I only have this life to live to the fullest
and experience all those wonderful things you see in the movies. Over the years Garrett and I were apart, I never stopped loving him, but this new Garrett, this strong, sensual man, I’m falling in love with him all over again. So, regardless of how this will all turn out, living in the moment is almost as exciting as stepping into the ring.
“I got you a fight,” Zan says, walking out of his office, smiling from ear to ear.
“When is it?” The nerves are already setting in and my heart might leap out of my chest.
“On Saturday.”
“Saturday?” I gasp. There’s no possible way I’ll be ready by then. There’s too much to do, so much to learn and not enough hours in the day to do it. When I feel like I’m about to pass out and I waver slightly, Garrett comes up behind me, letting me lean against him, and whispers words of encouragement.
“You got this, Rian. I can almost guarantee that none of those other girls have been training with a man and can hold their own. Don’t worry, just kick ass and make us proud.” I wonder if this is how Garrett felt before he left for basic.
There’s so much riding on this—my pride, proving myself to the guys and making a name for myself. As upset as my stomach is, I’ve probably developed an ulcer by now, or I’m at least on my way to getting one.
“Now all you need is a name for me to put on the ticket,” Zan chimes in, breaking the nearly calming trance Garrett has over me.
Wracking my brain, trying to come up with something that seems halfway decent, I’m coming up short. I’ve never had a nickname, other than when Garrett used to call me baby, and that sounds too cliché and very Dirty Dancing. Let’s be honest, I’m no Frances, and as amazing and sexy as Garrett is, he’s no Johnny. I don’t think anyone will ever be a Johnny.
“Raven,” Garrett says confidently.
“I like it,” Zan replies, writing it on the sheet of paper in his hands.
I’m a little apprehensive about sharing that part of me with the world. My raven is for me, not anyone else. It’s a symbol of being able to be on my own—actually enjoying being alone. I stand in the same spot for a good ten minutes trying to think of something that works better than Raven and there really is nothing. It’s also the name I once used with other men, disguising who I really am. Time to put a new meaning behind the name.
I am a raven. I’m content with being by myself, but I’m happy to be with Garrett.
Guess it’s time to let my raven out of her cage and be happy as well.
“Raven it is.”
Chapter 21
We arrive at the venue, which is just an old warehouse that’s been converted into a large conference room, and for tonight, it’s the location of the first fight I’ll be entered in. With sweaty palms, I follow Garrett, Zan and one of the other guys from the gym that’s got a match tonight through the back entrance, away from the crowd filing in through the main doors.
There’s a small locker room area set up for us. I set my gym bag down on the bench and pull out the outfit I’ll be wearing. In the bathroom, I change and tie my hair back. I’m barely able to wrap the ponytail holder around my mane because my hands are shaking so badly.
Bracing my hands on the sink, I look to the ceiling and take a few deep breaths. “I need you tonight, Mom. I’m so scared. I know I can do it, I need to do it. This is for us,” I whisper to the heavens then proceed to rush to the toilet and expel the contents of my stomach. It’s funny, but as soon as I vomit, I feel a million times better.
Even behind closed doors, the sounds filling the arena blare through the small room. Looking over the fight card that’s tacked to the back of the door, my match is fourth in the lineup. Every cheer and boo from the packed crowd cues the butterflies again. Thankfully, every time I turn a little green, Garrett’s there, whispering words of encouragement in my ear.
“Knock it off. My girl isn’t a pansy. She doesn’t give up. She sure as shit isn’t intimated by anyone. Just imagine that other girl wants to fuck me.”
“What?” I ask, busting out laughing.
“Remember Val? How crazy girlfriend you got on her? I’ve never seen you sexier. All territorial and shit. My dick was so hard for you that night.”
“Oh, I remember,” I giggle. That was the night I gave myself to him. Probably the best decision of my life. So many girls regret their first time, but not me. There was never, will never, be a more perfect man for me than Garrett.
As the third match is coming to a close, I hop in place trying to get blood moving to my extremities. When Zan opens the door, Garrett walks out first with me following and Zan behind me. Garrett turns back to me, winks and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together and squeezing gently. My nerves go out the building and I’m ready to take out the girl that wants to take what belongs to me, as Garrett so eloquently put it.
Garrett takes his iPod from his pocket, flips through until he finds what he feels is the perfect song and puts the ear buds in my ears. As the sick beat starts flowing, my head starts bobbing, and then the deep voice asks me if I feel it. Oh, I fucking feel it. The adrenalin is mixing in my system and then what I like to call the monkey screeching plays.
It’s do or die time.
My demon is awake, don’t you worry, Disturbed. I’m getting down with the sickness.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman, you’re gonna wanna get in our next contender’s pants … show some love for our hometown legend, The Switch Hitter!” I snort at the name, expecting to walk out and see a fighter carrying a baseball bat. What do ya know? No bat in sight. Extra reinforcements might not have been a bad idea, since I’m on fire and ready to bust the bricks off this clown.
Waiting for the emcee to call my name, I think of all the crazy things in my life that have led me to this point. I’ve experienced more than any one person should by the age of twenty-one—few happy moments surrounded by almost constant anguish. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?
“Being escorted to the cage by the most badass entourage I’ve seen tonight, all the way from Corbin, Kentucky … the newest fighter this side of the Mississippi … The Raven!” At least my name makes sense. Ravens are known for being alone, having no problem flying solo. That’s what I’ve done for the past four years anyway. Now, getting this chance, the only person I can depend on is me. Fitting, right?
After my announcement, the crowd erupts into cheers that I can hear loud and clear, even over the song streaming out of my iPod through my ear buds. Bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, I crane my neck side to side, examining the mass of people. It’s a good sized crowd for this venue. I sometimes wonder if these guys come to watch the fights for the love of the sport or because they like to see the ring girls walking around, barely dressed, carrying signs to designate what round we’re in. Oh well, they paid their cover and that money, if all goes according to plan, will be in my pocket later tonight.
I’m in the back of the line, behind all the guys except Garrett, who’s at my side. I run over everything I’ve been taught over the last year—how to get out of a submission hold, finding opportunities to take my opponent down, remembering not to be a cocky asshole that’s too big for her britches. Not to mention, endurance.
“You ready for this?” Zan asks, pulling out one of my ear buds.
Smirking, I eye up my competition that’s already inside the cage—a small, tiny thing that doesn’t look to have much muscle mass. I got this. Standing on the opposite side of the mat surrounded by Zan and Garrett, glancing in my direction, the slightest tinge of fear flashes across her brown eyes, similar to mine. Physically, I’m not very intimidating—weighing in at average weight for my class with an average stature to match, but the menace written across my face is an entirely different situation.
Stepping into the steel cage, I shrug my midnight blue robe off, right into the hands of Zan. I walk straight to the official who checks my taped hands. Once cleared, I step back to Zan, who pops my mouth guard in for me, pats me on t
he shoulder and whispers in my ear, “It’s only the two of you. If you want it, make it happen. If not, we can leave right now.”
“Don’t worry, Z. I wouldn’t bring you all the way here to disappoint you.”
Zan and the other coaches walk out of the cage and the door slams shut, leaving only me, Switch Hitter and the official inside. Meeting them in the middle, the ref goes over the standard rules for the fight. Both of us nod, bump fists and the bell dings, indicating round one is underway.
Pacing myself and testing her skills, I toss a few jabs in the air, needing to know if we’re on compatible levels. Weight class isn’t everything in the MMA world. Sometimes the smallest contender can be the best fighter. Without even flinching, my advances are shut down and every punch is dodged while a few are tossed in my direction as well. None land, but I know I may have to reevaluate my plan. This isn’t going to be as clean as I thought.
It doesn’t take long before her hands are wrapped around my legs. I try my hardest to center myself and stay on my feet, but she hit me in just the right spot. I position my body to flip and mount, like I’ve been taught, but I’m not quick enough.
Before I know it, a strong forearm, stronger than I assumed, is wrapping around my neck, pulling back to cut off my air supply. Rear naked choke, shit. Taking a few deep breaths, I try to calm my overheated and exhausted body and find a way to maneuver out of this situation. From the corner of my eye, I see Zan signaling me to tap. Not yet. If I’m going to go down, the officials are gonna have to call a medic in here—quitting isn’t an option.
My girl isn’t a quitter.
Dangerous or not, it’s how I’ve been taught.
Garrett’s voice rings in my head. Don’t let the fight consume you.
Well, I’m consumed and I’m not giving up. I’ll figure a way out. I always have, I always will.
Raven Page 15