Ava

by Michelle L De La Garza

  “I’m charging you for these. So, bring your own gear—”

  “So, there is a next time.”

  Ava turns to face me and narrows her eyes. “You’re an ass.”

  “So, you’ve said, but what I don’t know is why.”

  “Something tells me, you already know that?” She pushes past me and walks toward the door.

  I close the gap between her body and mine in only a few short strides.

  At six-foot, four inches, I’m roughly six-inches taller than her.

  “Not so fast.” Raising an arm overhead, I press the door closed.

  “Get out of my way.” Her eyes sparkle with gents of fury.

  “First, tell me what I’ve done.” I sweep the hair from her ponytail off the side of her neck, brushing her skin with the tips of my fingers.

  “I’m not doing this with you because you know why.”

  “Enlighten me,” I whisper next to her ear.

  Goose bumps cover her neck and arms.

  Ava turns around, squares her shoulders, and levels her chin.

  “You know what I’m talking about.” She presses the palms of her hands against my chest, then swallows hard. “You’re dating my sister, and you kissed me. So, yeah, that’s make you an ass.”

  “Let’s get two things straight, shall we?” I take a step, pressing my lean frame against hers.

  “Cole.” The word catches on the back of her throat.

  My mouth is inches from hers. “First, I’m not your sister’s boyfriend—we’re only friends.”

  Ava turns her head to the side, avoiding the impending kiss.

  Pressing my lips to the contour of her cheekbone, makes her suck in air, then gasp.

  I leave a trail of kisses from the side of her face to the curve of her neck, and then whispers, “And second, you returned the kiss.”

  A flash of anger flickers across her emerald green eyes. “Move.”

  The single word is wrapped tightly in a layer of anger that’s dripping with venom.

  Stepping back, I allow her to open the door, but not before the wolf sips on her growing arousal.

  “You should leave.” Her words resonate in the room, the door slams shut.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I drink in her enthralling scent.

  Hmm. I don’t think so.

  There’s a mixture of lust and anger lingering in the surrounding air.

  No. I won’t leaving anytime soon, not since the beast and I know she’s sexually attracted to me.

  I pull off my boots, slide my jeans off, and then yanks the shirt over my head.

  Wasting no time, I put on the sweats and T-shirt. Barefooted, I walk out of the locker room and head to the open area.

  Taking my place next to Ava, I join in the deep breathing exercises taking place.

  When she moves onto the turning of the head exercises, I glance at her, and she returns the stare with a hot, seething gaze.

  Ben, Ava’s father, walks the kids through the warm-up exercises, pointing to me and Ava as models. When it comes time to perform waist rotations, I shift, slightly to the side to keep Ava in view.

  Hands on her hips and toes pointed outward; she bends from the waist as much as possible, then she moves into a series of rotations, moving her frame, which has her body flowing in wide circles.

  Her eyes meet mine, and she moves just enough to avoid my eye contact.

  The wolf in me grins and continues to watch the tempting movement of her hips.

  “Hey.” During deep squats, I catch her laughing. “Eyes front, not on me.”

  “Yes. That is correct.” Ben walks the floor. “Keep your lines clean, body immovable, and eyes on your Dai-Sensei.”

  She mouths, “So, help me . . .”

  Holding a single finger to my lips, I encourage the kids to follow suit.

  They hush Ave and shake their little heads. The scene incites a laugh that I swallow before it breaks free of my lips.

  It’s been years since I did some of these exercises, especially squats, and my thighs burn. But from the looks of things, Ava has done them faithfully, and her form, solid and lean, moves with the grace and elegance of an agile cat—a sleek feline ready to pounce and obliterate the source of her discomfort—namely, at the moment, me.

  Once the exercises are complete, Ben leads the kids in a slow, deep breathing cool down.

  “Mr. Ben.” A little-redheaded boy, around five, raises his hand.

  From the scent my inner wolf picks up, the child is part of the Lakota clan, no doubt, a pup in training.

  “Matthew.” Ben approaches the little boy. “In class, you are to call me Dai-Sensei.”

  “Sorry. Mr. Dai-Sensei.” Matthew slurs the words together. “When do we do the other things like kicks and jumps and all the stuff you see in the movies?”

  “It will be a while before you reach that point. Right now, you are learning the basics.” Ben rubs his chin. “But since the class is almost over, I could ask Sensei Ava and Sensei Cole to give a demonstration.” He pauses. “How about it, kids? Do you want to see what years of dedication and study produce?”

  Ava shakes her head. “No. I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “Come on, Sensei Ava. It’ll be like old times.” I hold her gaze and smile at her wolfishly. “I’ll even let you lead.” I wink. “You might even have fun and like it.”

  I bow, and she follows suit.

  Sizing me up, she circles me once.

  She performs a roundhouse kick to distract my eyes, which I fall for like in my younger days, and then she sweeps my legs.

  A few of the children gasp, but most of them point and giggle.

  “A girl beat you.” Mathew gasps, then holds a hand over his mouth.

  “What’s wrong, Cole.” She stands over me. “Not as fast as you used to be?”

  “Nah, I like to take things slow and savor the moment.”

  She offers a hand, pulls me to my feet, and then flips me onto my back.

  Hmm. Good one, but I saw that one coming, and now, I got you.

  Spinning around on my back, I scissor her legs with mine, bringing her crashing to the mat next to me.

  “Oh, I see how it is,” she says barely above a whisper. “You’re playing dirty.”

  Grappling, I pin her shoulders to the mat. “Do you submit?”

  “Never.” She wraps her legs around my waist, slamming me to the mat once more. With catlike reflexes, she twists around, and ends up straddling me. “Relent.”

  “Fine”—I lock my arms with hers, drawing Ava against my chest—“but you should’ve told me.”

  “What?” She wiggles, immobilized by the bearhug.

  “You prefer being on top,” I whisper in her ear.

  Chapter 6

  Ava Johansson

  FOUR WEEKS OF FUN.

  That’s what Cole has constantly called the sparring examples given after the children’s lessons every Tuesday and Saturday. Eight grueling sessions in all.

  Fun. The mere word suggests enjoyment, amusement, pleasure, entertainment, and possibly jollification. However, those are not the words flowing through my thoughts.

  Hell, no. What I’m feeling right now doesn’t even come close to any of those. Actually, I can easily think of a handful of expressive terms that would fit the bill much better.

  Annoyance. Irritation. Vexation. Yea, those all do the trick.

  Hands on the wheel, I take the turn faster than I should and the car’s tires squeal.

  I take a deep breath and attempt to steady my racing heart.

  Up until now, I’ve been in control of my emotions, well, more so than the first day fiasco. But today, during sparring, what Cole did was inexcusable. And what’s even worse, I had allowed him to get the better of me.

  He baited me that much was clear. And I took the lure hook, line, and sinker.

  The insufferable ass, he rallied the children and before the session was over, Cole and I were locked in a sparring duel with high st
akes tied to the outcome.

  If I won, he would toss in the towel and not attend any more sessions. But if he won—if he were to outmaneuver me, and take me down in a fair match, I’d have to go to dinner with him.

  And to make matters worse, the children tossed in an additional requirement; I’d have to wear a dress—still think that was his idea, too.

  I pull into the empty parking lot of the strip mall. Light filters through the large windows in front of the studio.

  Pops, no doubt still inside, more than likely occupies the office, again. The man hardly ever goes home. From what I can ascertain, he’s been this way for the last fourteen months.

  But in all honesty, it’s better for him to lose himself in work than to go home and mope.

  Unlocking the door, I swing it open, and the bells overhead chime, announcing my arrival.

  “Hey.” I step inside, then turns the deadbolt. “Pops.”

  Ben pokes his head through the office doorway. “Thought you’d be at the restaurant already.” A chuckle passes his lips.

  “Don’t rub it in.” I glare at him and walks past, heels clicking against the floor.

  “Come on, Ava.” Pops follows me down the hallway and into the dressing room. “You have to admit. If anything, Cole is persistent.”

  “Yeah. No kidding.” I yank open my locker. “He’s been through half the girls in town.”

  Hell, some of them more than once.

  “What was that?” Her father, nose in a report continues to read—half listening.

  “Nothing.” I grab my purse. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Why’d you drop by?”

  Rummaging through my purse, I grab the wallet. “Needed this.”

  “What’s the real issue here?” Pops leans against a wall next to me. “Talk to me. Tell me why you’re stalling because I’ve never known you to back down or avoid an issue or problem. If anything, you take the world head on. So, what has you in an uproar?”

  “I always thought Tessa and Cole would end up together. They were always together.” I toss the contents of my locker around.

  “You’ve been gone more for more than a year. A lot can happen from one day to the next. And yes, your sister and Cole dated for a brief time, but they’re only friends now.” He places a hand over mine, stilling my movements. “And from what Tessa told me, you two had a long talk about this subject after class today. So, what else is bothering you?”

  “Great. That was supposed to have been a private conversation?” I open the door and step into the hallway.

  “Look, honey.” He places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. “I’m the last person in the world to give someone advice on dating. Hell. I’ve not been in the dating scene since your mother, and I married, which was long before you were born.” He pauses. “But I do know one thing, you gotta ask yourself, what do you want? Do you like him or not?”

  “Like has nothing to do with, Pops, and you know it.” I sigh. “He has a reputation at school. And, well, I’d rather not be another notch on his belt. God. We’re not even on the same page when it comes to what a relationship means.”

  “Talk to him. You never know. He might surprise you.” A smile stretches across his face. “Look, just go with your gut feeling, and know, things aren’t always what they seem.”

  “Well, my gut tells me—”

  A boom thunders and shattering glass echoes down the hall.

  I flinch, and my eyes widen. “What was that?”

  “Not sure. Stay put.”

  “Maybe it was an accident outside?” Heart racing, I dash down the hall. “God, someone could be hurt.”

  “Ava, no.” Ben wraps a hand around my wrist stopping my forward momentum. He then presses me against the wall. “Shh . . . we’re not alone.”

  Footsteps pound against the tile floor.

  An eerie, inhuman howl sounds.

  “What was that?” Following Pops, I backtrack toward the locker room. But halfway there, the lights go out.

  “I want you to hide in the cellar under the storeroom.” Pops retrieves his cell from his front pocket. “Take this,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Call Cole.”

  “Come with me.” My voice cracks. “Pops. Please.”

  “Go. Now.” He pulls a handgun from his locker.

  “No. I won’t leave you.”

  “For once in your life, do what I ask.” He opens the door and steps into the hall. “Now, go.”

  A gun. Where’d it come from?

  I make my way to the storeroom, uncover the cellar door, and then swing it open.

  Mother would’ve had a field day regarding Pops holding a gun—much less owning one.

  Mom wasn’t exactly against them, but she wasn’t progun either.

  My mother had often said, she had a healthy respect for them, but didn’t want them in her home.

  So, why did Pops own one now?

  Holding his cell in my hand, I scroll through the contacts until I come across Cole’s name. The call rings twice.

  A strange, otherworldly cry pierces the silence around me. It’s followed by a low, throaty growl.

  I kneel by the opening to the cellar, then I step down.

  “Hey, Ben. What’s up?” Cole’s voice booms in my ear. “You change your mind about moving the lockers tomorrow?”

  “Cole,” I say, barely above a whisper.

  Two red, glowing eyes in the locker room peer at me through the dark.

  The heel of my shoe slips on the metal bar, and I lose my grip on the ladder.

  Freefalling, my body slams against the hardwood floor, and I groan.

  Rolling onto my side, I retrieve the phone and bring it to my mouth.

  “Someone’s here.” My heart races in my chest.

  “Where are you?” Cole’s voice is calm and steady.

  “The studio.” I push up with my other hand, and pain radiates from my elbow to my shoulder. “Fuck,” I groan. “Someone’s—”

  A shrill, high-pitched scraping noise fills the air and makes my jaws ache. And from the sounds coming from the cellar opening above me, someone or something is coming down the ladder.

  The light spilling from the cell phone acts like a beacon, announcing my whereabouts to the intruder.

  I slip off my heels, shut off the phone, and then run away from the ladder.

  Feeling around in the dark, I follow the shelves until I reach the stone wall of the structure.

  Above me sets a window. It’s small but large enough to climb out. But first, I must find a way to get to it.

  Looking around the moonlit room, my eyes focus on some barrels.

  Two-handed, I roll one under the window, shoulder aching, then place two stackable wooden crates on top of it.

  Hands on the wall, I climb on to the lip of the barrel, then stand on the crates.

  The same scratching noise from earlier draws closer.

  “A-v-a,” an inhuman voice stretches out my name.

  Reaching up, I unlatch the window and slide it open.

  My fingers grip the sill, and I pull myself up and wiggle halfway out of the opening.

  A hand wraps around my right ankle and tugs.

  Clinging to the window, mouth open, I scream into the blackness of the night.

  “Let go.” The intruders words sound more like a growl than speech.

  My grip slips, and I fall to the ground.

  “Fuck.” Rolling onto my side, lungs burning, I gasp for air.

  Tracking the movement in the room, I crawl between the lower stair and the floor, hoping to put a barrier to shield me from the thing stalking me.

  Whatever it is that’s approaching, is moving fast, and it has red glowing eyes.

  “A-v-a.” It claws at the stair, ripping free from the frame.

  “What the hell are you?” I scramble to my feet, but it slams me to the stone floor.

  Something sharp digs into my right calf, and I cry out.

  Bringing my left knee
to my chest, I kick outward. The blow is solid, and he releases his hold.

  Standing, I keep my gaze glued and fixed on the red glowing eyes, which recover without a hint of injury.

  As my assailant approaches, the mass before me grows in height.

  A deep, throaty growl pierces the darkness, and the looming figure lunges forward.

  I spin out of the way. My elbow makes direct contact with the intruder’s ribs.

  It takes a deep breath then releases a pithy hiss. “You will pay for that.”

  One sweep of his long, muscular hindquarter, and my legs are swept out from under me, and I come crashing to the ground again.

  A heavy weight pounces on top of me.

  Raising my arms, I claw at the air until the blows connect to a solid mass.

  Digging the tips of my fingers in soft, fleshy skin, I then rake my hands downward.

  The beast squeals, then tightens his hold on me.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Watcher.”

  A warm, putrid breath of air blows over the back of my neck.

  What did it say? Watcher?

  Fingers curled against my open palm, and with all the force and momentum I can muster, I slam my open palm against the man’s neck, then palms cupped, I clap her hands on both sides of the intruder’s head, resulting in a loud thwack.

  Using his body’s weight against him, I shove him off me, then roll out of his reach.

  Standing, I take off running toward the cellar ladder, leading to the storeroom above.

  Curling my hands around the bars, I climb, hand over hand.

  Four loud booms roar through the night.

  Gunfire? Freezing in place for several seconds, I listen for any sounds nearby, then continue the upward trek.

  At the entrance, a hand wraps around my wrist and drags me out of the opening.

  My body comes crashing down against the floor.

  Rolling onto my stomach, I crawl on my hands and knees.

  “Ava,” says a familiar voice with a warm, soft timber.

  Tipping my head, I lock eyes with my father in the moonlight.

  He’s sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall.

  I half drag and half crawl over to him.

  “Pops.” I touch his blood-stained face.