by TJ Dallas
“Well done. Come and sit for a minute.” I handed her a towel and a bottle of water. She cracked the cap, her biceps quivering as she lifted it to her mouth and gulped a few large mouthfuls. She followed me to a nearby bench and sat, wiping the back of her neck.
“Why does that never get easier?” she grumbled.
I’d been her personal trainer for three months now. Her goal was to increase her upper body strength, and while she wasn’t weak, she needed extra muscle to comfortably lift her one-year-old daughter.
“It is easier,” I told her. “You’re building muscle. But the muscles won’t last if you don’t push them. Remember when you first came in? You couldn’t even do one, and you just managed twenty. That’s amazing progress.”
Kirsten looked at me, a bewildered expression on her face. She eventually nodded, a look of wonder in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“You’re doing great. I wouldn’t be a very good personal trainer if you weren’t.”
Kirsten laughed. “True. But I think you’re very good.” She winked, and I arched an eyebrow. I couldn’t miss her eyes glancing at my bottom lip.
“I’ve always got room if you want the extra one-on-one training,” I said, smirking.
She’d been flirting with me for weeks now, but she’d never taken me up on the offer. She had a boyfriend, and from what I’d heard, he sounded unpleasant, controlling, and manipulative. While pissing him off and allowing him to approach me with anger in his heart was something I yearned for, it wouldn’t allow room for the friendship I was establishing with Kirsten. If he chose to, he’d stop her coming altogether.
I stilled, deep in thought as a realisation came to me. Was her daughter the real reason for building muscle?
I studied Kirsten, tilting my head, the cogs turning. No bruises, but they wouldn’t be on her face, anyway. She constantly sported a baggy T-shirt during our workouts, and besides her ample breasts, I now had another reason to want to check her out.
Domestic violence wasn’t something I could ignore. When the Seven were first brought together, the others had thought me strange. Anyone who didn’t know me would assume the rage would kick-start my heart racing, and I’d be keen for a physical act of violence to continue. While that was partly accurate (sensing anger in someone could cause me to come running from a mile away), I would always hope to bring the situation to a calm resolution, but no one could understand that.
Watching someone hurt their partner wasn’t something I’d stand for. I hoped to calm people down before it ever reached that stage, but it wasn’t something I saw often in the gym. People rarely came in couples, but if they did, and I sensed so much as a dirty look that set my thoughts in motion, I’d intervene. Most often, I called the police, but I occasionally took the matter into my own hands. It was generally men I ended up in a fist fight with, but the women could be just as devious: gaslighting and financially controlling, if rarely physical.
I realised I’d gone quiet for too long when Kirsten nudged me. “Hey? You all right?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I rose with a stretch. “Ready for your abdominals?”
“No, but you’ll make me do them, anyway.”
“Correct.” I pulled her up. Guiding her to a thin blue mat in the corner, I lowered to a squat as she kneeled. “OK, we’ll start with our two-minute plank, and then move onto the crunches.”
Kirsten nodded, settling herself onto her forearms and balancing on her toes. She dipped her head between her arms, and I kept a close eye on my watch. When the two minutes were up, I touched the small of her back. “OK, that was great.”
She dropped to her knees and sank back to sit on her heels, her arms out in front to stretch. She rolled onto her back, tugging her T-shirt down, and I kept my face impassive.
“Remind me … We did fifty last time, didn’t we?”
“Nah, it was only forty.”
I frowned but shook my head with a chuckle. “Don’t try that on me; it was fifty. We’re doing sixty today, so get started.”
She brought her knees up and placed her fingertips on her temples. I monitored her form to ensure she didn’t lift her upper back too high from the mat; just enough to tighten her abs without straining her neck. After thirty-five, she began to slow.
“Keep going; you’re over halfway.”
“I think I’m still recovering from the crunches last week,” she said, gritting her teeth as she hauled herself up again. She groaned on the release.
I saw the opportunity and took it. “You might have torn a muscle. Rest for a moment, and let me take a look.”
“No, it’s OK. Really, I—”
It was too late. I’d already tugged up her T-shirt and saw a vivid purple bruise on the side of her ribs. I narrowed my eyes. Kirsten refused to meet my gaze, and as soon as I let her T-shirt drop, she tugged it down.
“Kirsten?”
“It wasn’t anything. I just … I walked into a door.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t believe that for a second.” I’d heard that age-old excuse often enough. “Kirsten, was that your boyfriend? You need to tell me.”
“No.” Her voice cracked, and she still refused to look at me.
“He’s not here, and I won’t breathe a word to anyone,” I said, looking around to make certain there was no one nearby who could overhear our conversation. “Tell me.”
“I—I can’t,” she muttered, her eyes flitting around the gym. There were only a few people here, and they were far enough away. I was confident they couldn’t hear us, but she eyed them warily.
I ran a hand through my short hair as I pondered my options. “Come on, we’re done for the day.” I held out my hand to pull her up. Grabbing the towel and the bottle of water from the bench as we walked past, I directed her to my office. She kept her head down the whole way. “Sit, please?”
She sat, crossing her legs and clasping her hands between her knees. A loud thump from the gym caused her to flinch.
“It’s just someone dropping a barbell. And a substantial one at that, two hundred kilos maybe.” I’d heard the noises often enough throughout the years, and I wasn’t usually mistaken.
My attempt to lighten the mood didn’t work, and I sighed. “Talk to me, Kirsten. How did you get that bruise? It looks painful; are you sure you haven’t cracked a rib?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I have.” Her voice was timid, a far swing from the usual energetic and outgoing woman I was used to. Her change in demeanour was alarming.
“How do you know? Have you had an X-ray?” She didn’t answer, and that told me everything I needed to know. “You won’t go because the hospital would start asking questions, right? Questions you can’t answer because your boyfriend would be with you?”
She nodded, and I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“You need to call the police.”
Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head frantically. “No, no, I don’t. It was an accident; my daughter was crying. He’d been working all day; he was just irritable, and he didn’t mean to do anything, I … I just—”
“Kirsten—”
The poor woman spun into hysterics, and I needed to call for backup. If she was angry, I could have helped, but I couldn’t help fear. I held my hands up in surrender.
“I’ve got a friend coming; she’ll be here in a minute. She’s going to talk to you, OK? That’s all. We won’t do anything without your say-so, but I can’t ignore what’s going on. I know you don’t want to hear it, but that isn’t a safe environment for your daughter. Let us help you.”
My attempt at calming her down didn’t work, and I exhaled a sigh of relief when Riley knocked on the door. She yawned as she slipped in, shutting the door softly behind her.
“Kirsten, this is Riley. Riley, this is Kirsten.” I introduced them as Riley approached and held out her hand.
“Hi, Kirsten.” Riley smiled.
Kirsten didn’t reciprocate the greeting. “Are you the police or a psychologist? Because I don’t want either.”
The sudden venom in Kirsten’s voice surprised me, but Riley was unfazed. “Neither,” she said. “I’m just here for a chat. Emilia, can you give us a minute?”
“You’re kicking me out of my own office?”
“Yes, I am.”
I chose not to argue; I’d summoned Riley for a reason, and she knew what she was doing. I stood up, allowing Riley to take my seat as she shooed me out.
I returned to the gym, finding an empty punchbag. Pulling two lengths of gauze out of my pocket, I wrapped them around the knuckles on each hand, flexing my fingers to ensure they weren’t too tight. I planted my feet, clenched my fist, and swung my first punch.
The notion of anyone laying hands on someone they were expected to protect was nauseating. The anger had risen in my throat at the thought of Kirsten’s boyfriend, my heart hammering in my chest. I’d kept my fury hidden, but now I was out of sight, I let loose. After only a few minutes, sweat streaked down the side of my face, but I couldn’t stop.
I was the second anomaly among the Seven. Madison was the first; she enjoyed jealousy in others, but she despised it within herself. I was slightly different, and I still couldn’t explain why. Myths about Wrath throughout history would portray me as a force to be reckoned with, an entity out to generate anger and allow it to boil inside humanity, bubbling like a magma chamber at the bottom of a volcano until something had to give.
My volcano hadn’t erupted in a remarkably long time.
People couldn’t understand my motives. I ran the gym because people full of stress and anger needed to work out to discharge the tension. Everyone wondered why I encouraged people to calm down and not the other way around. I had my own agenda; I absorbed their anger.
Intense fury inside someone else’s heart sent a pleasurable shudder up my spine. I craved it, I yearned for it, and while I rarely forced that anger on anyone (even though I had the power to), I rarely needed to. People don’t visit me if they’re relaxed.
While I savoured the anger in others, absorbing it into my body like a plant takes in sunlight, my own anger was a different kettle of fish. It caused my stomach to tighten, my jaw to tense, and an unsatisfying itch in my soul. If we have souls; I’m still not sure we do. That’s a question the Seven of us have been pondering our whole lives, and none of us have come close to the truth. We were immortal, but we could still die from a bullet, or beheading, or some other violent act, and we sometimes wondered what happened afterwards, if anything.
I swallowed hard. Harry had been exceptionally lucky at the hands of the Old Smokies.
When my anger would start to take over, I had to release it. I couldn’t let my volcano erupt, or I’d cause a trail of destruction. I’d lose all rational thought, acting on instinct instead of logic.
I’d lost myself a few times in the distant past, when the Seven first came together, and Riley had been the only one capable of getting me under control. She had a way with words, a soothing tone, and a gentle touch. Enough to calm, well … even Wrath herself.
I panted, belatedly taking a break from my assault on the punchbag. I grabbed the bag and settled it before tilting my head to one side and cracking the bones in my neck. I took a mouthful of water from a water fountain, noting the magma in my core starting to settle. Sex was a stronger cure, but I wouldn’t get that right now.
I returned, holding my fists in front of my face. I pulled back an elbow, ready to swing again, before Riley interrupted my thoughts. Emilia?
I lowered my fists and commenced a path back towards my office.
Don’t come in just yet, she thought quickly.
My hand lingered over the handle of the door, and I used all the concentration I had to withdraw. Why not?
I’ve just calmed her down, and I’ll be damned if you’re screwing that up. She’s still scared. It took a while, so rein in that impatience of yours. Can you send Harry down for me?
She’s probably resting, Riley. I can help.
No, you can’t. Sorry, Emilia. Kirsten has told me everything, and she knows she needs to call the police but she can’t do it. I need someone who can inspire some confidence.
I sighed, admitting defeat. That was definitely Harry’s area of expertise. Harry?
Mmm?
Riley needs your help with a confidence issue. Are you able to nip down to my office?
Sure, she replied. I’m downstairs, so I’ll need to come up. I’m trying to fix Riley’s car, and if she’s forgotten that already, I’ll be pissed. I’m not doing it for the good of my health.
You’re doing what?
Fixing her car. I don’t know what she’s done to it.
Harry, you shouldn’t be—
Emilia …
Sorry. I found it hard to ignore Harry’s pregnancy and even harder to stop myself from ordering her to take it easy.
I’m on my way, she muttered.
She arrived a few minutes later, toying with a dirty towel. I raised an eyebrow as I scanned her body. She was covered in oil, grime, tar, and God knows what else. My eyes took in the tight curves of her white tank top before I gestured towards my office.
She disappeared inside, and I shook my head. She looks far too sexy for someone covered in dirt. I felt the tension increasing again, and I returned to the punchbag.
It was at least half an hour before everyone vacated my office. Kirsten’s eyes were red, brimming with tears. She avoided my gaze as Riley put an arm around her, steering her towards the lift. I remained motionless as I watched them leave but soon turned back to Harry, who was hovering beside me.
“I want to forget, Emilia,” she whispered.
I frowned. “Forget?”
“Everything. I want to lose myself, just for a few minutes.” She looked at the floor, a flush rising on her cheeks. “My Identical usually takes care of it, but I think my hormones are affecting her too. She’s in a foul mood, hence why I was alone with the car. I sent her away.”
I tried to hide a smile. “Lovers’ tiff, was it?”
“She was being a twat.”
I swallowed down a reply. We all knew Harry was battling her mood swings, and the last thing I wanted to do was start an argument. I chewed the inside of my cheek. I’d been wary of having sex with her as I was afraid I’d hurt the baby, but I couldn’t ignore the look of longing in her eyes.
“Please, Emilia?”
She was serious. She needed to surrender herself, even just for a few minutes, her mind going blank in ecstasy.
Althea had lost confidence in herself after Harry’s anxiety attack in the Clava Sexus, and their sex life had taken a knock. I had no doubt they would be back on track soon, but Althea found herself treating Harry a lot more gently than her partner wanted. Althea was having a hard time finding her dominant side again, and Harry needed someone stronger, someone who could give it as hard as she could take it.
I thought of Maddy, who’d turned out to be a lot kinkier than I’d expected and had won Harry over with a set of nipple clamps, but Harry hadn’t yet forgiven her for the stunt she’d pulled with Lara. Since then, they’d both avoided each other as best they could; Harry for fear of losing control and knocking her out, and Madison for fear of being on the receiving end of one of Harry’s powerful right hooks. Plus, she didn’t know about the pregnancy, and we’d unanimously agreed not to tell her.
“I know you don’t want to hear it,” I started. “But what about the baby?”
“It’ll be fine, trust me. It’s fine already, and that’s impressive considering everything I’ve done since Brighton.”
She made a valid point. She’d drank, smoked, and fucked her way through the last several months, discounting the obvious hostage
situation she’d found herself in while protecting Bella. Her immortal genetic make-up probably had something to do with it, but I knew she was telling the truth.
That baby would be perfect, just like her, no matter what she did.
I grinned. I knew that she still hadn’t had a cigarette since she’d found out, nor so much as a single beer, and that was most likely adding to her pent-up frustration. After all she did for us and everything she was doing for that baby, this was the least I could do to help. I finally nodded.
She exhaled in relief, and I smirked. I glanced down her body, her skin painted in oil, dirt, and grease, and I raised my eyebrows again. “Shower?”
“Definitely.”
I nodded towards my flat, and she followed, still fiddling with the towel but struggling to rub off the grease.
Once inside, I strode towards the bathroom and leaned in to switch the shower on, pulling my tank top over my head. I reached behind me to unclip my sports bra, but Harry’s hands reached the clasp first, her lips on my shoulder.
I turned around. Sometimes, I forgot how much taller she was, and it was only when she was standing next to me I’d remember. She smelled of sweat and engine oil, and a low growl rumbled in my throat as a tightness spread across my chest.
She was a sexy dominant, and the only woman I allowed to see the softer side of me, the side I hid from the rest of the world, the side that let me relinquish control and let her have her wicked way with me.
Only this time, she was mine for the taking, and I bit my lip. She was about to give herself to me, every single piece of her, and my pussy flooded.
I moved my mouth towards her as my fingers located the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down. They glided over her taut thighs, and she kicked everything from her ankles. She kissed me back, her breath deepening as my fingertips lifted the bottom of her T-shirt. I broke the kiss while I dragged it over her head.
I couldn’t help it, and I looked down. The swell of her abdomen was barely visible underneath her clothes but more pronounced when I removed the T-shirt. I hesitated for a split-second before I splayed my hand protectively over her belly and kissed her before she could protest, gently pressing her backward.
