by Tasha Black
Brooke took a deep lungful of the moist, fragrant air and felt a little of her pain seep away. This was real, this safe place.
Although even that thought brought with it the stress of knowing they had to be out in a month.
“I’ve been looking at apartments online,” Trinity said, as if in reply to Brooke’s unvoiced worry. “There’s nothing this size, of course, or walking distance to the academy, but there are some affordable options out there. One even has central air.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Brooke said.
She would have happily lived in a broom closet to be able to keep running the gym. Without the gym, it didn’t matter if she could rent a palace.
“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” Trinity said. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but there must be another space.”
Brooke nodded. It was too hard to tell Trinity that this one was walking distance from the local American Legion post, where veterans went for help. Providing free classes and access to workout equipment for her fellow vets was the only thing keeping her going some days.
“Once we find an apartment, we’ll look for a space nearby,” Trinity said.
“Thanks, Trinity,” Brooke said. “You’re a good friend.”
Trinity grinned.
“I wouldn’t be that good a friend if I didn’t ask how everything else was going,” Trinity said.
“There isn’t anything else,” Brooke replied.
“Seriously?”
“What are you talking about?”
“When are you guys going to get together?” Trinity asked.
Oh god.
“I should ask you the same,” Brooke said pointedly.
“Please don’t,” Trinity said looking mortified.
“Now you know how I feel,” Brooke said.
“No, you guys have something different,” Trinity said. “I can feel it. He’s not just mooning over you, he really respects you.”
Brooke laughed. “You should have heard what he asked me tonight.”
“Was it the mating thing?” Trinity asked.
Oh boy, Trinity must be in deep, too. Brooke decided not to answer.
“He wanted to know if it was unusual for me to be so fierce,” she said. “He wanted to know why they made me train warriors - what with me being so tiny.”
“Remember, he’s from another planet,” Trinity said. “And he’s enormous, so of course you seem tiny.”
“I’m five ten and I’m not slim,” Brooke said. She wasn’t ashamed, she liked her gladiator body. She never had any trouble getting men interested in it either.
“Well, I hope you went easy on him,” Trinity said.
“Yeah,” Brooke replied, trying not to remember straddling him, holding him down and feeling his cock straining for her as the expression on his tragically handsome face told her he was struggling against his desire to touch her.
Trinity laughed.
“What?” Brooke asked.
“I don’t know,” Trinity said, licking a bit of ice cream off her thumb. “It just seems like maybe you like him more than you let on.”
“I’m attracted to him, sure,” Brooke admitted. “Who wouldn’t be? But I’m not in a place to get involved with someone. Especially not an alien.”
“I have a feeling there will never be a good time,” Trinity said carefully. “And he really likes you, Brooke. I think he needs you.”
“I can’t have anyone rely on me right now,” Brooke said.
Truth be told, she couldn’t have anyone relying on her ever again.
She had only to remember what happened to the last group of people who had counted on her.
5
Conan
Conan jogged up the steps of the huge marble building. The day was unseasonably cool, the streets were filled with well-dressed people who all seemed to be walking in time to an unheard rhythm, and he had the money in his pocket to make Brooke’s dreams come true.
At least, he had the money in his pocket to help her get the money to make her dreams come true.
He replayed Dr. Bhimani’s words in his head one last time to make sure he was spending it properly.
This is enough to spend on needs - but not on wants, so be careful to buy only what you cannot do without.
The women who had taken in Conan and his brothers were about to lose their home. Saving it was a need, not a want - especially because Brooke had built the training facility in the basement, which could not be moved. And Brooke was to be his mate, he was sure of it, so her needs were his.
Content that he had assessed the situation properly, Conan took a deep breath and walked through the glass doors.
A man in a uniform came up to him immediately.
“May I see some ID?” the man asked.
“I’m here to sign up for the fight,” Conan said, suddenly worried about his lack of ID.
“No worries, man,” the guard replied with a grin. “That’s so cool. The table is right there, so you don’t have to pass security.”
A large table was at the center of the lobby. It bore an advertisement for a company called Worthington Enterprises. He wondered what that was.
But the lady at the table greeted him before he could ponder it further.
She stood up, shook her long dark hair over her shoulder, and smiled like she was absolutely thrilled to see him.
“Are you here to sign up for the fight?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Oh, that’s great,” she squealed and jumped up and down a bit.
Her mammaries bounced wildly, but Conan did his best to keep his gaze on her eyes. It was bad manners to look at a woman’s chest. His brother Lobo had learned that a few days ago.
“So, what’s your weight class?” she asked.
He looked over the chart until he found the right one.
“This one,” he said, pointing.
“That can’t be right,” she said with a funny little laugh.
“I’m sure Brooke is within that range,” he said. “And she’s five foot ten.”
“Oh,” the woman said, understanding lighting up her eyes. “You’re the coach. I get it now.”
While Conan was not Brooke’s coach, he didn’t want to say anything to stop the lady from hastily scribbling things on the form.
“You know the entry fee is a thousand dollars, right?” she asked, looking up.
“Yes, I’ve got that with me,” he told her.
“Good,” she said. “A lot of people have had a problem with that, but the fight is to benefit the city. And besides, with prizes this size, we have to collect a high entry.”
Conan looked down at the banner.
Join us for
Fight Back the Night
Men’s & Women’s Champs each take home $25,000 cash prize!
Must be 18 to enter.
Entry fee $1,000 - benefits City Shelter and 9-1-1
*Sponsored by Worthington Enterprises*
He had passed a poster that said the same on the way home from the pizza shop last night with Lobo. The moonlight had created a glare on the shop window that was almost like an arrow pointing his eye toward the drawing of the woman in gloves on the lower right corner of the poster. Though she was a cartoon woman, for a moment Conan could picture Brooke in her place, with a medal around her neck and a handful of cash.
He paid his fee and the lady handed him a form.
“That’s your receipt,” she said with a big smile. “We’ll see you at the fight.”
“Thank you,” he told her.
“Say, are you a personal trainer?” she asked him, looking him up and down hungrily.
“What?” he asked, wishing he knew what that meant.
“I don’t want to be a fighter or anything,” the woman qualified. “I just want to be healthy and strong.”
“You look very healthy and strong,” Conan assured her. “You do not need any training that I can see.”
“Oh w
ow,” she said, turning pink. “Wow, thanks.”
“You are very welcome,” he told her sincerely.
He placed the folded receipt in his pocket and left the building.
It was less than a mile back to the academy and the sun was shining.
He found his thoughts going back last night, when Brooke challenged him to spar with her without holding back. And, despite his clear size and strength advantage, she’d held him down so completely he hadn’t even been able to begin the process of getting back to his feet.
She’d made him rethink everything he knew about bodies. After all, hers was tiny compared with his. He’d known her training was helpful, but what he had experienced last night made him feel like she was practically a magician.
And then the feel of her pressing body intoxicated him, until he was lost in a wave of need for more.
It wasn’t until he had replayed the scenario for the hundredth time in his mind that he realized the significance of the way she’d held him.
Don’t underestimate me…
She flung herself down to whisper those words to him, leaning with both arms which were caging his head to do so.
She had thrown herself down hard on her elbows - both of them, putting half her body weight on her right shoulder. And she hadn’t even blinked.
Though he knew Brooke wasn’t pretending her injury, he had always felt there was something… odd about it. Some days she seemed to ice it constantly. Others she hardly favored it at all.
And then there were the dreams so bad she seemed to eject him from them. Conan didn’t know what had happened to her in that brown and dusty place, but he knew it was terrible. He always found himself back in his own head before he could follow her.
He was a newcomer to having a physical form, but he understood that there were connections between the mind and body. Brooke’s body was obviously very strong and whole.
Could something in her mind be causing her shoulder to hurt?
He wondered if her dreams might hold the answer to that, and he hoped she might let him find out so that he could help her.
In any case, with or without the shoulder injury, she was incredibly strong as well as talented.
Based on what he had seen of Brooke’s strength last night, Conan knew she could easily win the contest and the prize that went with it.
He tried to imagine the happiness she would feel when he told her the news. The picture in his mind made him smile.
He tried to stay selfless, but he couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, when her gym and her home were safe Brooke would feel more inclined to consider taking him for her mate.
The sky seemed especially blue and the birds sang very sweetly as he finished his walk home. Conan took in his Earth surroundings all over again. It truly was a magnificent place, so full of possibilities.
6
Brooke
Brooke sat at her laptop, tapping impatiently on the walnut desk beneath it instead of typing.
She’d put up a sign on the gym door stating that the facility was closed until further notice and encouraging students to reach out so that she could reimburse the balance of the month’s tuition. But it was different to write to them, tell them that she was closing and could never open again.
The little kids were all working on their belts. She knew they would be devastated.
And some of the veterans were in a bad place. Free gym privileges and a space to hang out could be a real lifeline - she knew from personal experience.
What was she supposed to tell them?
Brooke was a fighter, not a writer.
She’d written and deleted about a hundred first lines when the front door banged open.
“Brooke,” Conan’s deep voice greeted her.
She found her shoulders going down with relief for no reason that she could think of.
“Hey,” she said. “I’m in the office.”
He stepped in, the sun glinting in his hair. He was so huge he took up the whole doorway.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied a little breathlessly.
“I have a surprise for you,” he told her.
His cocky half-smile was so sexy she thought she might melt like cheese on a burger.
“Wow,” she said. “Okay.”
He pulled something out of his pocket. It was a crumpled piece of paper.
“Here,” he said, handing it over.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s an entry receipt,” he told her. “You’re going to win back your gym.”
“It’s what?” she asked.
But she was already leaning over her desk reading it, smoothing the creases out of the sheet as she went.
It was a testament to Brooke’s competitive nature that her first reaction was a surge of pleasure.
A second later though, reality set in and she straightened without reading the rest of it.
“I can’t do it,” she said, handing it back to him.
“Why not?” he asked, not taking it.
“You know why not,” she said, shaking the paper. “I’ve got a shoulder injury. I don’t compete anymore.”
“I was with you last night,” he told her. “You’re stronger than you think.”
She was mortified to feel her cheeks get hot at the mention of last night. Thank god Veronica had come downstairs when she had. Brooke might have done something she regretted.
God he had felt so good pinned under her like that.
She really needed to feed her libido from time to time so as not to be so vulnerable to a foolish attraction like this one.
“Besides,” he said. “Look at the prize.”
She glanced back at the sheet.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
“It’s enough for you to buy the building, right?”
The words started to blur and Brooke realized her eyes were getting misty.
“I can’t do it,” she said.
“Well you have to,” he told her. “The entry fee is non-refundable.”
“I guess you just lost fifty bucks,” she said. “I’ll pay you back.”
“It was a thousand dollars.”
She searched his face, but there was no sign that he was kidding.
He tapped a long finger on the paper.
Sure enough, it acknowledged receipt of $1,000.
“Where did you get a thousand dollars?” she asked.
“Dr. Bhimani gave it to us, in case of emergency,” he told her.
“And you spent it on this?” Brooke asked.
“My brothers and I agreed - this is an emergency,” Conan said calmly. “You and your sisters are about to lose your home. And you are about to lose the gym. It means everything to you and to your students.”
“They’re my friends, not my sisters,” Brooke said.
“Your friends,” he amended patiently.
“And I wish you had asked me first,” Brooke continued. “I would have told you not to waste your money on this.”
“It’s not a waste, it’s an investment,” he said.
“I can’t do it,” Brooke said, slamming her fist down on the desktop.
There was a moment of stunned silence between them.
“I did not mean to upset you,” he said gently.
“I’m not upset,” she lied. “I have a lot to do.”
“Can I help you?” he offered.
“I just need to focus,” she said, shaking her head. “You should go.”
He nodded, but she could read the disappointment on his face.
Serves him right. He shouldn’t rely on me. No one should.
“I’ll see you later, Brooke,” he told her.
It wasn’t until he was gone that she realized he hadn’t taken the sheet with him. It fluttered slightly when she flopped back down in her chair and the cartoon drawing of a woman holding a handful of money looked almost like she was waving for a moment.
She tried to imagine herself i
n its place.
Smiling.
Winning.
She crumpled the note and shoved it in a desk drawer, where she wouldn’t have to look at it.
7
Brooke
Brooke was still thinking about the tournament as she worked at the gym that evening.
After all the time it had taken to set the training area up, it was demoralizing to be breaking it down. Every time she got into a rhythm she would get stuck in a memory and find herself standing there, with a mat in her hands, remembering the first time one of her more awkward students had mastered a throw. Or staring down the mottos they had painted so lovingly on the walls at the first big training school party.
Never give up!
Believe in yourself!
You can do it!
Well, just because it was written on a wall didn’t make it true. Brooke could not do it and she was going to have to give up.
The idea made her mad as hell.
She wandered over to the bags and gave a little jab. Her hand hit the canvas with a satisfying thud.
It felt good.
She slipped on a pair of gloves. It wouldn’t kill her to hit the bag for a few minutes to let off a little steam. Then she’d get back to packing.
She tapped it with a couple more jabs. Her whole arm sang with joy at the movement.
Just for the heck of it she threw a slow roundhouse punch with her right arm.
She watched the arc of her gloved hand through the air, mesmerized. It had been so long.
The glove hit the bag solidly. A shockwave traveled back through her arm and into her shoulder.
Brooke braced herself for pain that didn’t come.
She tried again, a little harder.
Again, her fist sailed through the air, her glove hit the bag, and the impact was transmitted back to her shoulder.
There was a little soreness, but none of the blinding pain she had expected.
Encouraged, she did a couple of combinations.
Jab, jab, roundhouse punch.
Jab, counter, hook.
