Dances with Monsters

by D. C. Ruins

  Because they were brothers.

  Connor's eyes bored into him alertly, taking in everything from the way Heath was breathing, where he was looking, which side of his body was turned toward him, which way his feet were pointing, how he shuffled, in the instant before he lunged. Heath knew what he was looking for, because it was also what he looked for, what any good fighter would look for. He focused on his older brother and quickly blocked the jab Connor threw, and then shifted to the other side and blocked the accompanying hook. He lifted a knee to block the kick, and used his strength to shove Connor away before he could sweep his feet out from underneath him.

  "Good," Connor called to him, quickly pulling out his mouth guard. "Very good. You're much faster now, Heath."

  "I was fast before, you prick," Heath called back.

  "Not like this," Connor said, shaking his head. "Not like this."

  Heath had been consistently sparring with Rex during his training, but now that he was getting closer to Smackdown, he needed to crank it up a notch. Rex was good, a strong and skilled fighter; but who better to train with than the man that had bested him and won Ultimate Warrior?

  Connor had kept up with his training and still fought sporadically, though not nearly to the frequency he fought leading up to Ultimate Warrior. Heath guessed it had to do with not really needing to, since Connor was capitalizing off the endorsement deals coming his way just like they were coming Heath's way, and Connor was a little more personable and had dome some interviews. He fought now a few times a year, at the bigger tournaments, usually winning them, and otherwise spent time with his family. Since Ultimate Warrior and after Heath had recovered from his dislocated shoulder, he and Connor had sparred a couple of times, but those matches had been mainly for the fun of it. Heath needed him now, needed him to give him everything he had to help him win the upcoming tournament.

  They had already been at it for hours; both of them were exhausted but neither one was willing to be the first to say so. And so, they just kept fighting. Though Connor was older and had in the past proven himself to be quicker than Heath, a bit more agile, Heath could tell his big brother was flagging and couldn't help feeling a surge of triumph and pride that he was getting the best of Connor.

  It was compounded when he managed to snag Connor in a headlock, using his legs to lock Connor's in place, and Connor finally—finally—tapped out. Heath immediately released him and they both dropped to the floor of the ring, panting and thoroughly spent.

  Connor lifted a hand into the air. "I caught a cramp on that last one," he managed. "Otherwise I never woulda tapped."

  Heath snorted tiredly from where he was sprawled in one corner. "Yeah. Whatever, big brother. Shove it up your ass. I won fair and square."

  Connor laughed breathlessly. "Fine, fine. You won. You got this tournament in the bag, Heath. Don't even sweat it."

  Heath hated to admit it, but hearing himself be validated out of Connor's mouth meant a lot to him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "We'll see. Thanks for sparring with me."

  "Sure," Connor said, grunting loudly as he sat up and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I could use the exercise anyway. But dammit, Heath, did you have to punch me in the face?" He gingerly touched the fresh, raised cut on his cheekbone where Heath had cracked him smartly.

  "Oh, you thought I was gonna go easy on you?" Heath asked, amused.

  "Lana is gonna be pissed at you," Connor warned.

  "She'll be all right," Heath said with a smirk. "I know you're fragile, but you'll heal."

  Connor barked out a laugh and shook his head, unwrapping his hands. "Fragile, huh? Maybe so." He pulled off his wraps and tossed them down, rolling his head around on his neck.

  Meanwhile, Heath still lay in a motionless heap in his corner, content to do absolutely nothing for a few minutes. It was late on Wednesday evening, and the gym had finally emptied out. When Connor made his appearance earlier in the gym that evening to spar with Heath, it was a fan free-for-all for a while before Heath could get people to calm down. Naturally, they had quite a crowd watching them spar for the first hour or so. Gradually people had started to straggle off once their match stretched into two hours, and after that, people had finally filed out.

  Heath felt really good about his progress since he'd begun training. Not that he'd ever really fallen off in terms of staying in shape, but as Connor had noticed, he had become much faster, much more agile and even stronger than before. Sparring for hours with Connor, who made it a point to stay in tip-top shape at all times, was the icing on the cake for him. If he could beat Connor, he wasn't particularly worried about his opponents. However, now was not the time, nor was he the type, to get cocky. He knew there was a fine line between being confident and being cocky, and that line could cost him the purse. And so, he would continue to train up until next week when he left, and he would continue to watch film on the other fighters and make notes of their strengths, weaknesses, and abilities.

  "So, you talk to Drew about Sunday?" Connor asked, breaking into Heath's reverie.

  "Yeah, yeah," Heath said, groaning himself as he pushed into a sitting position. "She said she'd come."

  "And John? You told her about John? How was she about that, since you mentioned she had a rough past?"

  "Fine," Heath said with a shrug. "Totally fine. I guess I'm the one with the issue, not her."

  "What happened to her, if you don't mind me asking?" Connor asked softly.

  Heath shrugged. "Some really, really bad shit. I don't think it's for me to say, really. I sort of found out on accident myself. I'm not sure she would have ever told me. But…it was bad, man."

  Connor nodded musingly. "That's probably all the information I need," he said lightly. "But I'm glad to hear she's coming. Ever since the girls found out she's a ballet dancer they've been bugging the shit out of me about her."

  Heath couldn't help laughing. "Why?"

  "They keep asking me if I think she'll teach them some things when she comes over. You know they're both getting into dance stuff now."

  Heath recalled that on one of the last times he'd been by to see them, Maggie and Lucy had taken him by the hands and demanded that he follow them so they could show him their ballet shoes, their little tutus, and all of the things that they'd learned at their most recent lesson. He groaned inwardly but it was with amusement—now that they knew Drew was a "real ballerina", they'd never leave her alone once she set foot in the house.

  "I'm sure she'd like that, anyway," Heath said. "She's good with kids, has some nieces and nephews of her own. And she is a dance teacher, after all."

  "Good," Connor said. "I know everyone is looking forward to meeting her."

  Heath cleared his throat and occupied himself with taking off his own wraps. "I'm, uh, takin' her to go see that ballet that's coming into town tomorrow," he said. "As a surprise."

  Connor looked at him and lifted his eyebrows. "Heath Riley, burnin' romantic at heart," he joked. "Orchestrating surprises for a special young lady. Who woulda thunk?"

  "Shut up," Heath said, instantly regretting telling him. Connor laughed and patted the air.

  "Calm down, I'm just givin' you shit," he said. "That's nice of you. What made you do that?"

  "Well, it's her favorite," Heath mumbled. "She couldn't get tickets, so I got some. Thought I'd do somethin' nice for her, since, like I said, she's had a rough year."

  "Nothin' in it for you, either, right?" Connor said suggestively, chuckling again.

  "It is not even like that, man," Heath said solemnly.

  "Maybe not yet," Connor amended. "C'mon, Heath. Surprising a girl with ballet tickets? Ballet tickets! Not to mention meeting her family right away, bringin' her to meet ours…I think my baby brother's in love!"

  "Whatever, man," was the best Heath could muster as his thoughts immediately turned to her.

  He knew he wasn't in love with Drew. But he also knew he did really like her and that that "like" had the potential to grow into something mo
re. And while the things he'd done for her or because of the fact that he liked her warranted no expectation of a counteraction on her part along the lines of what his brother was suggesting, he couldn't help but wonder. His mind immediately took him back to the previous night, saying goodbye to her inside her apartment. She'd shocked the shit out of him when he'd felt her tongue brush over his lip, so much so that he'd been sure it had been accident. But when she did it again, there was no mistaking what she was asking for, and he'd been only too happy to acquiesce her. In terms of physicality, he found himself at an impasse. On one hand, he knew the hideous attack she'd endured last year had done a lot of damage, damage he couldn't even fathom, to her body, her mind, her soul, most of all, her trust. He felt completely uncertain of how to proceed with her. They'd broken the first physical barrier—but what was too much? What was she open to? What were her limits? He knew that they'd likely have to discover those answers together, but in the meantime, he felt completely inadequate in dealing with her—he wanted to be as sensitive as possible, which in and of itself was typically unheard of as far as he went, and he never wanted to do anything to hurt or upset her. On the other hand, he was a man. And she was a woman to whom he was completely and decidedly attracted to, and one with whom he would love to break a few more boundaries with. He hadn't felt this way about a woman in an extremely long time, and hadn't dealt with a woman on any level in almost as long. Hell, just tasting her lips and tongue last night had rocked him up like he'd never been rocked up before, not even when he'd seen her practically naked in front of him, and he'd had to be very carefully about holding her just slightly away from him, lest she feel just how much he was enjoying what was going on. He thought about her face, how it had looked when he'd turned to look back at her once he'd walked out the door. Her cheeks had been pink, her hair tousled from his hand, her warm brown eyes bright and sparkling. Her lips, slightly swollen from their exercise, were such a tantalizing shade of dark pink, and she'd been biting at her lower lip in such a way, that he simply couldn't resist stealing just one more kiss. He'd been able to think of little else since then. And he needed to think of something else, and fast, as his body was beginning to stir at the memory and that was just not good business with his brother sitting right there.

  Heath cleared his throat and got to his feet, giving Connor his back as he reached for his sweating bottle of cold water, drinking half of it in one gulp in an effort to shock his body into calming down.

  "Listen, man," Connor said. "I know I'm giving you shit here. But really—I'm glad that you like this girl. Really glad. I hope it works out. It's good to see you happy. Happier."

  Heath snorted over his shoulder, but he appreciated his brother's words. "Well, thanks, I guess," he replied. "We'll see how it goes."

  "Now, about the ballet," Connor asked seriously. "Do you have to wear your own tights, or do they hand them out at the door?"

  He yelped and dodged out of the way, not fast enough, as Heath hurled his water bottle at his head.

  ***

  Drew knew she'd been a worthless employee on Thursday, and as she hustled home early at four that afternoon, she knew she owed Bunz a huge debt of gratitude. Bunz had been letting her leave early several times a week to go to the Y to work on her showcase piece, and when she'd heard about the dinner date that evening and the movie afterward, her eyes had lit up and she'd seemed absolutely delighted, practically insisting that Drew leave at three-thirty. Drew had refused to leave that early, but when four o'clock came around, Bunz had all but kicked her out.

  "I owe you," Drew had said, grabbing her bag and jacket.

  "Just make sure I'm the maid of honor and that I do the wedding cake," she'd replied. "Now get the hell out of here!"

  Drew burst into her apartment and shut the door, locking it off of muscle memory, and hurried to the bathroom immediately. Rocky ran at her feet and she quickly bent down and petted him, dropping a kiss on the soft spot on the top of his head, right in the middle, before jumping into the shower. She'd been fretting since Tuesday night about what to wear; she knew Elements was a dressy place, but that they were also going to the movies afterward. She wasn't sure which to dress for, but ultimately decided she'd better dress for the restaurant. It was spring, a chilly spring at that, but she had a pretty pale pink, short skater-style halter dress with a large, open diamond shaped back she really wanted to wear. She knew she'd be cold, and had a cropped white trench coat to wear over the top, but her legs would just have to suffer, as the dress ended several inches above the knee. That brought up another matter.

  She glanced down at the inside of her ankle. The cuts had healed additionally, but were still visible. She didn't want to draw attention to them by putting a bandage over them, and besides, a bandage slapped on the inside of her ankle would detract from her outfit. She decided to use makeup, and applied concealer and powder as best she could to match her skin tone. The healing wound's appearance was greatly reduced; in fact, the cuts couldn't even be seen from a distance. A person would have to be up close and personal with her skin in order to see that it wasn't flawless.

  Her stomach knotted in on itself with nerves as she applied her makeup and fixed her hair, managing to coax the mix of fine and coarse strands into large, smooth waves. She added a little gold jewelry in the form of gold diamond studs, a delicate gold chain necklace, a single gold midi ring and a gold bracelet on the opposite wrist. It was a quarter to six when she heard a knock on her door, so she hastily stepped into her nude high heels and grabbed her jacket and clutch before scurrying to the door. She peeked through the peephole, and unlatched her locks and opened the door.

  Heath was resplendent in crisp charcoal gray slacks and a simple black and white pinstripe button-up shirt, tucked into the pants. She could never imagine seeing him so dressed up—he looked like a completely different person. He had a tiny bit of product to tame his dark hair, but he was still scruffy and wore his large-face black sports watch. And she knew instinctively that no matter what he did or where he went in life, a tie would forever be out of the question.

  His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and she felt nervous, flattered anticipation as they moved down her body. She knew she looked nice because she had put a lot of effort into looking this way, and she could tell by his reaction that those efforts paid off. She didn't need or even want to hear him say it aloud; the look on his face and the slight smile on his lips and the fact that he couldn't seem to stop staring were compliments enough. But she couldn't stop herself from paying him one in kind verbally.

  "You clean up very well, Mr. Riley," she said shyly. Without giving him a chance to reply, she added, "I need to feed Rocky really quick before we leave. It'll just be a second."

  He bobbed his head and watched as she turned toward the kitchen after laying her jacket and her clutch over the back of the couch, knowing he was watching still as she moved into the kitchen. She dished Rocky out some food, which he was waiting patiently for, and refreshed his water bowl. When she turned back around to head for the door, she was pleasantly surprised to see Heath picking up her white jacket and silently holding it open for her. She had never had anyone help her into a jacket before as an adult, and certainly not a man that she was interested in. She had never taken Heath to be such a gentleman and with every new revelation that this was just his way, she was surprised anew. She knew his mother had raised him as a teenager and Drew supposed that she'd instilled in him the gentlemanly qualities that he frequently seemed to display. She would have liked to meet his mother, knowing that he had been extremely close to her, and briefly lamented the fact that she never would.

  She slipped her arms into her jacket and he straightened the lapels over her shoulders before taking a slight step back. Drew tightened the jacket around herself and scooped up her clutch. With a final look back at Rocky, blissfully immersing himself in his bowl of dry food, she smiled up at Heath.

  "Shall we?"

  Chapter Nineteen

  He
ath couldn't help stealing glances at Drew in the passenger seat of his Charger as they drove toward downtown Pittsburgh. He'd been practically speechless ever since laying eyes on her when she first opened the door of her apartment, but luckily she hadn't seemed to notice he hadn't been saying much so far. She'd kept up a steady stream of idle chitchat, telling him about the progress she'd made on her dance, her day at the café, something funny Rocky had done that she wished she'd had time to capture on video. She seemed to be in a relaxed, contented mood. And she looked beautiful, which was the cause of his sudden difficulty with the English language. He'd never seen her look quite this way—in a soft, sweet dress, with her hair styled into silken waves he longed to touch. He'd seen her look athletic in her workout or dance clothes, casual in her funky street clothes, and sexy when she'd worked at Cliff's, and all of it had been awesome because he'd always thought of her as a beautiful girl. But before tonight, he'd never seen her look this…pretty. And it took his breath away.

  She was still chatting away, glancing out the tinted windows of his car at the gray, drizzly early evening. He was half-listening to what she was saying, but it was hard to focus on anything but her legs, now demurely crossed at the ankle. To him, she had the perfect pair of legs. They were curved and shapely, like a woman's should be, but defined with sleek muscle from years spent honing her craft, with hard, defined calf muscles and shapely quadriceps and hamstrings. And in her short dress, they were set off to perfection. He'd noticed the first night at Cliff's that her legs were great, but they were driving him to distraction now.

  "…hope you don't mind fusion places," she was saying. "Elements is all sorts of European cuisine. Hopefully that's okay. They do have steaks and sandwiches and stuff there, too. More guy-friendly foods. They're really creative with their dishes and I've never had anything I didn't like there. Not that I go there that often. Their desserts are really amazing too."