by Zoe Chant
“Racists who made fun of my mom’s accent. Rich snobs who looked down on me because my clothes came from a thrift store. Bullies who thought I was an easy target because I was small.”
Shane smiled. “Did you win?”
“If I didn’t have three or four of them ganging up on me.”
“Do you remember how you won? What were thinking of right before the fight started?”
Shane always asked questions she’d never been asked before. She liked that about him. Talking to him was never boring. “I guess I just focused on hitting them as hard as I could. I didn’t care if I got hurt, so long as I got to them. But they cared. So I won.”
“And you’ve never fought as an adult?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never had to. A couple times creepy guys have tried to follow me at night, but I looked them in the eyes and yelled at them to get the fuck away from me. And they ran.”
Shane nodded as if that made perfect sense. “You were in warrior mode. They could see you’d do whatever it took to win. They weren’t willing to do the same, so they ran away.”
“I wish you could explain that to my mom,” Catalina said. “To everyone who keeps telling me to be more afraid. People always say I didn’t defend myself, I was just lucky. They say that if those men had chosen to attack me, there wouldn’t have been anything I could have done about it.”
“They had chosen to attack you,” Shane remarked, his expression cool and dispassionate. “Why else would they have stalked you? And you did do something about it. You won the fight without ever having to strike a blow.”
He went on, “It reminds me a story I learned when I was studying karate. The two greatest swordfighters in Japan decided to duel, to see who was the best. A huge crowd gathered to watch. Everyone was sure it would be spectacular. The swordfighters walked up, squared off, and looked into each other’s eyes. Then they bowed to each other and walked away. They didn’t need to fight— that one look was the duel. There was no point even unsheathing their swords, because they already knew they were equals.”
Catalina’s eyes stung, just as they had when he’d told her she’d gone above and beyond the call. She already knew he thought she was brave. But everyone who knew her or saw her in action thought that. What was different about Shane was that he didn’t think she was wrong or stupid or reckless to take risks. And he didn’t assume that sooner or later, she’d bite off more than she could chew and pay for it with her life.
When she told him she could do something, he believed her, whether it was fighting or defending herself or carrying him. He never said, “Women can’t do that” or “You’re too small” or “You’ll get hurt.” He protected her, but like soldiers protected each other, not like a strong person protected a weak person.
Ellie treated her like that, but few other women did. And Shane was the only man she’d ever met who’d put that kind of faith in her. He probably had no idea how rare and precious that was.
She had to get him talking about something else, or she’d cry for real.
“You must love karate,” she said. He’d told the story about the swordfighters with unexpected passion.
“I do. I’ve studied other martial arts, but that’s my favorite.” With a diffidence she’d never seen before, he said, “I could show you some. If you like.”
“You bet!” Catalina settled in, all threat of tears evaporating in her delight at the chance to watch Shane in motion.
He moved to the middle of the floor. “Karate has some set exercises called kata. The idea is that you’re fighting off imaginary opponents. I’ll show you Tomari Bassai. It means ‘Storming the Fortress.’”
His clear blue eyes narrowed in concentration. Then he began to move. At times he slowly stalked an unseen foe, and at times he struck too fast for the eye to follow. He turned and spun, kicking and punching and blocking, as if he was fighting off a horde of enemies that had surrounded him. He moved with the grace of a dancer and the ferocity of a warrior, every strike and turn alive with power and passion.
Finally, he came to a stop. Catalina gave a sigh of sheer pleasure.
“That was gorgeous. I wish I could do that.” She stood and stretched out her leg, trying to recall one of his movements.
“Bend your other leg, too.” Shane bent one leg and extended the other in front of him, with his back foot flat and only the ball of his front foot touching the floor. “It’s called cat stance.”
“No wonder you’re good at it.” She copied his stance, but could tell she wasn’t getting it quite right. “What am I doing wrong?”
He stepped in close to her. She could feel the heat of his body, smell the clean scent of his sweat.
“Too much weight on your front foot. Put more on the back.” His voice was husky. He was breathing harder than she’d have expected; the kata had been athletic but brief. A strand of her hair stirred with his breath.
Catalina shifted her weight, bringing herself an infinitesimal but nearly unbearable fraction closer to him. Every inch of the space between them seemed charged with tangible energy. She could have closed her eyes and traced the shape of his body in the air.
“Like this.” He put his hands on her hips.
The contact went through her like an electric shock. A wave of desire broke over her. Her nerves tingled. Her nipples hardened. Her clit throbbed. The hot, slippery wetness between her thighs made it almost impossible not to squirm.
Don’t move, she ordered herself. He’s not into you. Let him do his demo, then go take a cold shower.
Only the palms of his hands were touching her, but she could swear she felt him breathing. Shane tugged her back and down. He was just shifting her weight, but it felt like a caress.
Catalina instinctively settled against him, unable to stop herself from seeking more contact. He was hard as steel, his erection pressing against her like a crowbar.
Startled, she twisted around, tipping her head back to look into his eyes. They blazed like blue flames, alight with a fire that could only mean one thing.
He does want me, she thought, astonished. Why didn’t he ever say so?
“I’m losing control,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. She could hear it in his voice, rough with desire and the ragged edge of passion. “I should lock myself in the bathroom.”
“Don’t you dare,” Catalina said, and pulled his head down to hers.
He met her urgency with his own, kissing her fiercely. His mouth was hot, his stubble rough. His tongue thrust against hers, and his hands clenched on her hips. She slid her hands under his shirt, barely able to believe that he was letting her touch him. But she felt his quick inhale, in her mouth and under her palms and against her body, and knew how much he wanted her to touch him.
She ran her nails along his ribs, and felt him gasp again. He jerked his hips, thrusting hard against her mound. Even through two layers of jeans, the friction was electrifying. She rubbed against him, getting wetter and wetter, hotter and hotter, closer and closer to the brink. Her entire body was alight with passion that shivered through her nerves like threads of fire.
“We should get undressed,” she muttered, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop, even for a second. She was trembling, her muscles tense, everything in her pushing her inexorably toward her climax.
Shane held her tight. Her face was pressed against his throat; she could taste salt on his skin. “Later.”
He turned his head to kiss her again, nipping at her lower lip. The slight shock of pain only added to her urgency. Her breath came in quick bursts, and her head swam. She couldn’t feel her feet touching the floor. All she could sense was Shane’s strong arms around her, Shane’s steel-hard cock thrusting against her, and the tide of ecstasy that swept her away.
Catalina leaned against Shane, catching her breath. Her legs felt wobbly, as if they wouldn’t bear her weight. Then, as she became more aware of the world, she realized that he was holding her up. And also that he was still hard as a roc
k.
She reached down and gripped him. He made a sound like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
“Ready for another round?” she asked. “Or do you still want to lock yourself in the bathroom?”
“Fuck, no,” Shane said.
Catalina’s laugh turned into a yelp as he dropped to the floor, taking her with him. They landed with her on top. She knew he’d done that on purpose, so she wouldn’t be bruised— Shane never moved clumsily or accidentally.
He lay beneath her, his chest heaving. She couldn’t stand to have anything separating them, even a thin layer of cloth. Catalina sat up atop his hips and grabbed his shirt in both hands, planning to rip it off his body.
Shane caught her wrists, shaking his head. “Don’t do anything to our clothes. We can’t let Apex find out what we’re doing.”
She didn’t know why it mattered, but she was hardly going to stop to ask now. She pulled his shirt off, exposing the lean muscles of his chest. He reached up to take off her shirt, then unsnap her bra.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” Shane cupped her breasts, then teased the nipples with his fingertips, hardening them into nubs and sending little shocks of pleasure shivering down her spine.
But good as that felt, she wanted more. She wanted skin to skin contact, everywhere, right now. Catalina peeled off her jeans and soaked panties, then dragged Shane’s jeans and boxers off. His cock was hard as it could be, the head glistening and slick against her belly. She wanted to sit on it and have it fill her, immediately.
Catalina raised herself to settle down on him. Once again, Shane reached up to stop her.
“No condoms. And I can’t...” He swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob. “I can’t guarantee I’d pull out. Use your hands. Your mouth. Your thighs. Anything else.”
Catalina remembered him saying, “I’m losing control.” But he hadn’t. He’d made sure she didn’t get bruised. He’d stopped her from tearing his shirt. Even now, when it was probably hard to think of anything but getting off, he was still prioritizing her safety above his pleasure.
What would it be like to really make him lose control? Catalina wondered. What would it be like to see that shield of his smashed to bits?
She tapped her upper arm, feeling the matchstick sliver under the skin. “I have a birth control implant.”
Catalina leaned in close, bracing her hands on his shoulders. His lithe muscles flexed and relaxed under her palms. “Shane...”
He stopped breathing, waiting for what she had to say. They looked deep into each other’s eyes. He wasn’t using his power, but she could sense that he was dangerous, and he knew it, and that was why he kept himself so cool and calm. But she knew, too, that he would never hurt her. She hoped he could see who she was, like she could see who he was. He was a dangerous man and she was a woman in love with danger. He didn’t need to control himself around her.
“Bring it, Shane,” she whispered. “Go wild. I can take it. I want it.”
He drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding against hers. Next thing she knew, he was on top looking down at her, and she had her back pressed into the cool floor. She couldn’t believe how fast he’d moved.
His scent of clean sweat and masculine musk filled the air. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, speeding as fast as her own.
“I love you,” he said. “That’s me losing control. Not sex. Love.”
For the first time, she saw the shadow of fear in his eyes. It made her heart ache at the same time that his words made her want to laugh for sheer joy. All this time, he’d been holding back because he’d thought she wasn’t into him?
She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down to her. “I love you too.”
He released a long breath, warm and soft against her lips. Then he was kissing her, hot and passionate, on her mouth, her throat, her breasts. His fingers dug into her upper arms, hard enough to bruise, but she didn’t care. There was a wild abandon in his kisses, in the strength of his grip, in the brightness of his eyes. It made her feel wild too. She arched her back and spread her legs, offering herself to him.
He slid into her as easily as a key into a lock. She gasped at the intensity of the sensation as she stretched to accommodate him, and at how right it felt to have him inside her. Her nails dug into his back as he thrust into her, rubbing against her swollen clit at every stroke. They were both panting, sweat slippery between them, hands sliding over wet skin, giving each other clumsy urgent kisses.
His thrusts grew faster, harder, as did hers. Then his teeth closed over her shoulder and bit down. The shock of pain unexpectedly pushed her over the edge. She called out Shane’s name as she came, bright light expanding within her like the rising sun.
Then he was coming too, his face hidden in her hair, his teeth still locked on her shoulder. She felt him shudder and jerk against her, and then he released her and slid down to lie beside her.
Catalina managed to break the lazy stillness of the afterglow enough to raise herself on one elbow to look at Shane. He lay with his eyes closed, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him before. Even when he slept, there was a sense of watchfulness about him, as if he was ready to leap up and do battle at the slightest disturbance. Now he lay still and content, the few lines in his face smoothed out.
She wasn’t going to disturb him, but he opened his eyes, rolled over, and kissed her.
“Guess my secret’s out,” he said.
“You’re not very observant,” she remarked. “I felt like I had a giant neon sign over my head that said I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU.”
“You did,” Shane said casually.
Catalina blinked. “You knew? Then why was it a secret how you felt?”
“I didn’t want Apex to know,” he explained. “I was afraid that if you knew, your neon sign would light up with SHANE LOVES ME.”
She punched him lightly in the arm. “Thanks a lot. I’ll try to turn off the neon. But what happens if they do find out?”
The peace in Shane’s eyes faded away. “They’ll threaten you to control me.”
Catalina had expected something much worse. “That’s it? They’ve already tried to control me by threatening you.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s me.”
She punched him again, a little harder this time. “You matter too.”
He seemed taken aback. “Well...”
“Shane.” Catalina pulled him close, holding him tight. “You matter to me.”
She felt him release his breath in a long sigh, but he didn’t reply.
“Hey, strong silent type,” she said. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”
He took a deep breath, then another. When he finally spoke, she’d stopped expecting it and twitched in surprise.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, then shook his head, as if in surprise at his own words. “I don’t think I’ve said that since I was ten or something. I feel especially weird saying it now, with the power I have. But I am. The last time I was here, I... I didn’t do so well.”
Catalina squeezed his shoulders. “We’re going to get out of here, Shane. We both rescue people for a living. We can do this. I’m not asking you to tell me about your plan— I don’t want it turning up on that neon sign of mine— but you do have one, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” He spoke with confidence, but Catalina wondered if she’d really persuaded him or if he just didn’t want her to be scared too. “Come on, let’s take a shower.”
He pulled her up and put his arm around her. They went into the bathroom and wedged themselves into the tiny shower.
Shane touched Catalina’s shoulder, then frowned at a smear of blood on his fingertips. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to break the skin.”
She glanced at the shallow bite marks. They stung a little under the hot water’s spray. “Am I going to turn into a panther?”
“No!” Shane looked horrified. “God, no. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’d have to bite you when I’m a panther.”
She’d figured he wouldn’t do anything that he believed would harm her, no matter how out of control he felt, but she couldn’t help being a bit disappointed. “You sure you don’t want to? I’d be a lot more help when we escape if I could bite people’s heads off.”
“You’ll be plenty of help without that. Can you shoot?”
“Well— I know how,” Catalina said. “I went to a range a couple times with Ellie and her brother Ethan. He’s a Recon Marine. I’m not a crack shot or anything.”
“That should be good enough.”
Catalina was desperately curious about exactly what Shane planned, beyond that he obviously intended to obtain some guns, presumably off the guards. But she didn’t ask.
Instead, she lathered up her hands. “Turn around. I’ll wash your back.”
Shane managed to turn without either knocking her down or whacking himself on the showerhead, which was something of a miracle in the cramped cubicle. He even made the movement look graceful.
She ran her hands over his body, enjoying the simple pleasure of being able to touch him. He didn’t wince when she soaped the tiny cuts her nails had left on his back and shoulders, though they had to sting as much as her bites.
“You don’t need to be a panther,” he said. “You’ve already got claws.”
“Just marking my territory,” she teased. “Property of Catalina Mendez. All others keep out.”
“I heal fast,” he reminded her, guiding her hand up to the place where he’d cut his head. She parted his sleek hair, but couldn’t see or feel a scar. “You’ll have to redo your keep-away signs every day or so.”
He didn’t sound like he’d mind. Catalina kissed one of her marks, then leaned her head against his back, blissfully happy. The warm contentment of sex still filled her, she had Shane right there in her arms, and they loved each other. She trusted him to break them out, and he trusted her to pick up a gun and fight by his side. They’d break free, and then they’d have an entire lifetime of adventures ahead of them.
It was everything she’d ever wanted, except that even in her wildest dreams, she’d failed to imagine a man as cool and sexy and brave as Shane.