As Jacques entered the ring, he drowned out the noise from the overly excited crowd. While the referees and judges were consulting to the right of the caged ring, he took a glance at his opponent on the opposite side. Rod “the Ram” was his name. They were similar in size based on height and weight. They were even similar in that they were both shifters. Only about twenty percent of Jacques’s fights were with humans. Not too many humans wanted to contend with a non-human. There’d been too many accounts—some substantiated and others false—of shifters using their supernatural strength to overpower their opponent. But for Jacques—whenever he competed—he fought with mind over matter.
Lucky for his opponent, his coach was right there beside him dolling out what could only be encouraging remarks and strategies in his ear. The only coach Jacques had ever had was his inner critic.
The fight began promptly at the start of the bell and Rod came straight for him. According to some fighter’s backstage, Rod liked to rush straight at his opponent like a bull and ram them to the ground where he delivered the final heart-stopping blows. But as Jock, the fighter, he had his own reputation. Jacques was known for his endurance, speed, and knack for catching an opponent off guard. But their strategies conflicted. Rod was trying to close in on Jacques, and Jacques was trying to keep a good enough distance so he’d be able to use his speed and quick thinking when Rod least expected it.
Rod finally did close in on Jacques and Jacques took two quick jabs to the ribs and another to the chest. Jacques returned the blows, pound for pound. He was in it to win it and nothing would stop him now.
The fighting commenced with Jacques putting his full weight behind his punches trying to tire out the Ram. And Rod continued to rain down slow driving punches while trying to trip Jacques up and so that he could ram him to the floor.
Round after round, they jostling in the ring. Jacques had to hand it to him. Rod was a commendable opponent. On round four, the refs took longer to discuss scoring. The match was headed toward a tie. If something drastic didn’t happen in the next two rounds, they’d likely end up splitting the pot. That would be a first, but Jacques wanted to win.
He browsed the crowd as he waited for the fourth bell to ring and almost lost his mouthpiece when he spotted a woman with beautiful, long auburn hair sitting on the bleachers. The woman wore a hood, but the ends of her long hair still escaped the sweatshirt. His heart sped up and his breathing became sporadic as he switched his attention from regulating his heart rate to trying to confirm if what he was seeing was true. If this woman was Natasha.
And then their eyes met…from yards across the room.
One of the perks of being a shifter was that his eyesight was nearly perfect, and whenever he called onto the wolf to help him visualize better—like he was doing now—his vision became impeccable.
Natasha was here.
How…?
“You good, Jock?” the referee asked, nudging him on the shoulder. “Next bell in under a minute.”
Jacques nodded but still couldn’t take his eyes off her. And she knew he’d found her sitting in the bleachers. She lifted her hand and waved. The woman beside her leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Natasha responded by nodding. Jacques could tell by the look in her eyes that she was astonished…and maybe a little terrorized by seeing him—like this. Fighting. Bruised. Battered.
“Jock…”
He wasn’t ready to have her see him like this. Not yet.
“Jock!”
“Yeah.” Jacques stood up.
“And 3…2…1…”
Ding!
Fighting this time felt different. Something had changed within Jacques. He knew very well what it was. He was unfocused. And his lack of attention cost him. Rod “the Ram” used his brute strength to deliver blow after debilitating blow to his liver and chest. Jacques got in a few jabs here and there, but his energy had gone elsewhere.
One moment, he was on his toes. And in the next moment, he was on his back. He wasn’t going to stay down like a bitch. He shot back up because there was still fight left within him, but he hadn’t learned from his mistake. As he and his opponent shuffled around the ring, Jacques shook off the pain ringing in his right shoulder where he’d took the full force of the fall. Yet still, there was something else he couldn’t quite shake. An emotion he’d never felt before in the ring. He’d never learned how to diminish endearment and a blinding need for any woman. He’d never wanted any woman as much as he wanted Natasha.
Against his better judgment, his attention shifted once more to where Natasha stood with her friend. He couldn’t get over the look on her face. She was horrified and fearful…for him. He could almost smell it.
Jacques never anticipated his opponent’s next move because he wasn’t paying any damn attention whatsoever. A fist connected with the left side of his head, knocking the lights right out of him. A sharp, consistent ringing buzzed in his ear. As he slid forcefully across the dusty floor of the makeshift ring before colliding with the wire cage, he singled out one familiar shriek of distress from the crowd. He knew he was done for. The bell rang as he passed out cold on the floor.
Chapter 17
Jacques came to on a cold metal table with a cloth bandage wrapped around his forehead. The first person he scented and then saw when he opened his eyes was the Aspen Valley Pack doctor Jacob Hayes.
“Ugh…” Jacques groaned as both pain and awareness set in.
He tried to rise from the table, but Dr. Hayes protested.
“It’s best you stay down for another ten minutes or so. How are you feeling?”
Jacques pressed his palm to his forehead. “Like I lost a fight.”
Dr. Hayes chuckled and slipped on his glasses. “That should be the least of your worries.”
He began checking Jacques’s vitals and pulled out a needle with clear liquid inside.
“What’s that?”
“A Painkiller. The fast-acting kind. Your wolf won’t be able to reject this and it’ll help you heal faster without expending too much energy.”
From the sound and looks of things, Jacques was still inside the building where the fights were being held and the tournaments were still going on. There was another injured fighter lying on a table to the right of Jacques.
His memories started flooding back to him and the most significant one of them all was seeing the horrified look on Natasha’s face as he hit the floor from the knockout. He cringed and his temples pulsed. Another headache gripped him.
“I’m fine, really. I’ve gotta go,” Jacques said, knowing full well that Dr. Hayes could detect a lie just like any other shifter.
But when Jacques folded to a sitting position this time, Jacob didn’t try to stop him.
“You’re built for this, yes, and you’ll be fine. But it’s my recommendation that you cease fighting for a week or two to make sure “the Ram” didn’t knock anything loose,” Dr. Hayes said. “Bottom line, you need to take it easy.”
“Gotcha.” Jacques moved to stand.
“Whoa there…where do you think you’re going? The manager says you can’t leave unless someone takes you home. All the rings are starting to get stricter now when it comes to injuries sustained in a tournament. They don’t want to take the rap if a fighter shows up dead in the streets if you know what I’m saying.”
“Dr. Hayes, you’ve been seeing me since I was a child. You know me better than anyone else. I can drive myself home.”
Dr. Hayes shook his head and peered over the top of his glasses. “On a motorcycle? Like that? Uh-Ugh. If you can hold your wolves for just another hour I can give you lift, but I’ve got another patient lying there to your right to tend to before I can leave. Let’s hope there aren’t any more KOs tonight.”
Jacques exhaled, understanding that the doctor’s orders were final. “I appreciate it, Doctor.”
“No problem, son. We’ll get you outta here soon.”
Dr. Hayes picked up a black leather briefcase. As he t
urned to assist the other fighter, some commotion broke out behind the entry door. It sounded as if one of the security guards was trying to apprehend an unauthorized fan from entering—which wouldn’t have been a surprise to Jacques. Some of the fighters paraded around their home cities and towns like celebrities, but Jacques was not one of those people. He didn’t fight for fame.
Jacques lifted himself up once more and swung his legs over the table. His ears perked up and he lifted his nose to the air, trying to catch the scent. Dr. Hayes did the same.
“You can’t go in there, ma’am…you can’t just barge—”
Natasha, with her beautiful, long hair fully exposed burst through the door. Her blonde-headed shifter friend was right behind her.
“Ladies, this is a private area—”
“Jacques!” Natasha raced to his side. “Are you okay?”
Relief washed over him the moment he heard her voice. He couldn’t explain it. The feeling was equivalent to seeing the one and only person who could make everything right again.
“Yes, I’m fine.” He took her by the forearm. “But you didn’t have to come here.”
“I did. I had to see you.” Her gaze ran over him. Her fingers ran over almost every bruise on his chest, neck, and face.
The security guard waited beside Jacques’s table with an annoyed look on his face.
“She’s fine. She can be in here with me,” Jacques said.
“Alright, but she and her friend here had no business slipping past my men after claiming to need to use the bathroom,” he said, before yelling orders into his walkie-talkie and exiting the room just as swiftly as he came.
“I thought you were…hurt really badly,” Natasha said. She looked worried. Her hair was jostled and her eye makeup was smudged as if she’d been crying.
She was still breathtakingly beautiful. And still his. She’d come to him, yet he still left her unclaimed.
“This is why I wasn’t ready to show you,” Jacques said. “This is what normally happens even to me if I don’t lose a fight. I’m used to it.”
“You lost because I broke your attention. I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault. That wasn’t my first time losing a fight and it probably won’t be my last.”
She swallowed. “I wanted to tell you that…”
“Tell me what?”
“Well, I don’t know how to say it.”
Jacques looked behind her at her friend, who now looked oddly familiar, and then his gaze shifted to Dr. Hayes, as he stared suspiciously in their direction.
“We can always talk in a quieter pl—”
Natasha kissed him. A full sensuous kiss that seemed to represent her claiming him. He slipped his hand against her hip and the pads of his fingers dug into her waist as he brought her closer to him. He used the other hand to run his fingers through her tangled hair as he kissed her back, sliding his tongue between the seams of her lips and then meeting her tongue with full force. They were too blinded by need and lost in the moment that they forgot where they were…or maybe it was just him.
Natasha’s friend cleared her throat behind them. “Um…you two are putting on a completely different type of show.”
Natasha parted from the kiss but didn’t turn him loose. “Now, I’ve really forgotten what I came to tell you,” she said, breathlessly.
They chuckled.
“Listen,” he said, “You should get out of here. I can’t leave here unless someone takes me home. I’ll be home a little later after the doc finishes up. I promise to call you. You have my word.”
“I can take you home,” Natasha offered.
Jacques contemplated her offer in no time. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Natasha. He’d never really wanted to leave her in the first place. He’d do anything that was in her best interests. But was avoiding her really in her best interests?
“You drove out here alone?”
“No, Melody and I came together. I followed her here,” she said.
“Hi Jacques,” Melody chimed in.
“Hello Melody,” he greeted her with a smile. “Is it Melody Arnold, by any chance?”
“Yes, I didn’t think you would recognize me,” Melody said.
“You’ve got your dad’s eyes. How’s the courier business coming along?”
“Just fine. We’re getting plenty of business now, so I’m happy.”
“Perfect,” Jacques said.
“So since it doesn’t look like you’re in no position to ride a motorcycle, are you going to let me take you home?” Natasha asked.
“I’d like that,” he said, and then looked to Dr. Hayes.
Dr. Hayes put a stethoscope inside his leather briefcase and gave his full attention to Jacques. “This woman really cares about you. To tell you the truth, love and affection are the best medicine.” His gaze shifted to Natasha and he slid off his glasses. “You’ll have to keep him off his feet for the most part. I’ve already given him a dose of painkillers that will help him rest, so resistance shouldn’t be an issue. He’ll need at least twenty-four hours of rest and absolutely no training. Moderate stretching is fine. And someone should make sure that he doesn’t fight for the next three weeks or so.”
“I can do those things,” Natasha said.
“Well then, you’ll save me a trip across town. I’ll follow up tomorrow, Jacques.”
Not a second later, two men pushed through the door carrying another injured fighter. They sat him on a bench and propped up his leg while shouting to Dr. Hayes that he’d broken his ankle in the ring.
“Looks like my night here might never end anyway,” Dr. Hayes noted. “Fellas, do me a favor and direct these ladies to the back of the building and help them get Jacques in their car, will ya?”
Natasha pressed a single kiss on the exposed portion of Jacques’s forehead right next to his brow-bone. “I guess they’ll bring you out. See ya in a few.”
He squeezed her hand and said, “I’m glad you came.”
She flashed him a smile before following Melody and the other two men out the door.
“You’ve got it bad, Jacques Shalane Kent,” Dr. Hayes commented. “And do you know what we say when your birthmark becomes inflamed in the presence of a woman…?
Jacques turned his head swiftly to peer at the hexagon-shaped birthmark on his left shoulder. Sure enough, the mark had swollen and was more prominently visible on his skin than he’d ever seen before.
“Are you sure she’s not your mate, fighter?” Dr. Hayes asked as he worked on the shifter with the broken ankle.
“I was unsure before, but now I’m almost certain she is,” Jacques replied.
“Well, what are you doing here in the rings? If I were you, I’d be fighting to claim that woman, not a tournament title.”
“You’re absolutely right, Dr. Hayes.”
Chapter 18
Natasha managed to maneuver the back country roads okay with Jacques’s guidance. Melody had been right. She probably would’ve gotten lost if she’d tried to find Jacques’s house on her own. Most of the shifter neighborhoods still remained hidden or without community signs at the entrance. Either they did this on purpose or they didn’t see a reason to make it any easier for people to seek them out.
Since Dr. Hayes had given Jacques painkillers that made him incredibly drowsy and disoriented, getting Jacques out of the car and into his home had been a little trickier. He walked himself up the steps with one arm draped over her shoulder and she managed to get him in bed before the dose of whatever Dr. Hayes gave him put him to sleep.
Not wanting to leave his side, she had curled up in the big comfy chair beside the bed with a blanket and went to sleep.
Natasha woke up the next morning to find the sheets folded back on Jacques’s bed with him not in it. She propelled herself forward and flew to her feet.
“Jacques!”
“I’m in here,” he called out from the connected bathroom.
She breathed a sigh of
relief and looked toward the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and she heard the water running.
“You’re not supposed to be up and on your feet, you know,” she reminded him.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I had to use the bathroom, take a shower…get cleaned up. I’m okay.”
Natasha huffed. “I told Dr. Hayes that I’d make sure you stayed off your feet.”
“He’s been seeing me since I was a child. He’s treated me maybe a dozen times for broken bones and other things. He knew I wasn’t going to listen. That’s why he injected me with painkillers. Well, he said it was a painkiller, but I think it was actually a sleep aid. I’m still sore, but I’m okay,” he said.
She pressed her palm to the door. “Do you need help?”
He swung the door open, revealing himself standing there in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs with a damp towel hung over his shoulders. She hadn’t noticed it before, but among some scars and his most recent bruises, there was a tiny natural patch on his left shoulder that was a little darker in color than his copper-toned skin. The patch was hexagon-shaped. A mark. Maybe a birthmark.
He grinned. “Like what you see?”
Natasha blushed. “Obviously you don’t need any help.”
Her gaze raked over the pure male perfection standing right in front of her. His physical imperfections were an integral part of him now. Each scar probably told a story and they molded him into the man he was today. Despite it all, he was perfect. Every time she looked at him, she couldn’t deny the truth—couldn’t deny that she wanted him.
“And yes…I love what I see,” she added.
“You’re late for work,” he said. “You don’t have to skip work for me.”
She bit her bottom lip and shrugged. “They probably don’t really care. I actually gave them my two weeks notice last week. Melody put me in touch with the principal of Aspen Valley Wolf Creek Academy. They’re in dire need of a middle school science teacher and they want to hire me.”
Aspen Valley Wolf Pack (The Complete Series) Page 43
