She gave the hundred-pound bag swinging in front of her an uppercut-hook combo, then took a step back and spun on her heel for a roundhouse kick. Sweat dribbled down her back and her arms were starting to feel leaden from the weighted gloves she wore. But it would be some time before she gave up working the bag. It was therapeutic, and right now Mahina needed a ton of therapy.
It wasn’t as if she’d never faced death before. She had on several occasions and thwarted it by quick thinking and even quicker reflexes. A woman didn’t work as a police captain for the Necropolis Police Department in a city full of vampires, witches and lycans and not have the grim reaper’s number on speed dial. It was just that she hadn’t seen the silver bullets coming.
This time someone else had saved her life.
She punched the bag again—jab, jab, cross, hook, uppercut. A tendril of brown wavy hair escaped her high ponytail to hang in her face. She brushed at it with her gloved hand.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful; it was just that she’d never been in such a position before—having someone else save her. Mahina prided herself on the fact that she was a tough, independent, no-nonsense type of woman. She had worked her whole life against lycan pack politics, a domineering father, absent mother and sexism within the police department to get to where she was—a captain on the police force with a reputation for being as hard as stone. Nothing could move or affect her. Nothing could scare her.
Until now.
She delivered another flurry of punches and kicks to the bag until every muscle in her body quivered with strain. Taking a step back, she wiped the sweat from her eyes. Another hour of working out she hoped would squash the frustration that gripped her body and her mind. Something had shifted in the past twelve hours. She no longer felt in control. And the dynamic between her and Ren had changed. She didn’t like that situation one bit.
As if to prove her point, the door to the gym opened and Ren walked in, gym bag slung over his broad shoulder. He crossed the room as if deep in thought, but as soon as he noticed Mahina, he stopped, his cobalt-blue eyes widening.
“Hey.” He nodded to her. “I thought everyone went home for the night.”
“Nah, I’m not one for sleeping at night.” She gave the bag a solid jab-cross combo.
“Me either.” He set his bag down, unzipped it and took out a jump rope.
She tried not to watch him as he slid his hands over the rope handles, but it was hard not to. Ren was a formidable-looking man even in an unassuming white tank top and gray shorts. Standing at six-three, he towered over her impressive five-nine. He was broad in the shoulders and had one of those V-shaped bodies that men all over the world spent thousands of dollars on supplements and gym memberships to acquire. Ren possessed it naturally. A product of his lycan genetics.
He was one of the few men who had ever made her feel small.
Her study of him must have made him uncomfortable, because he asked, “Is it okay if I work out here with you?”
“Knock yourself out,” she said, trying to appear unaffected by his presence. She tore her gaze away from him and put it back onto the hundred-pound punching bag where it belonged.
Jab. Hook. Cross.
But her gaze shifted toward him again as he jumped rope. Had she never noticed before the way the muscles in his legs rippled as he moved? Or how his biceps bulged? Surely she’d noticed how incredibly strong and powerful he looked. How could a woman not see how incredibly attractive he was?
Or was it that Mahina’s eyes had opened for the first time?
As he jumped, his gaze strayed to her. When she saw him looking at her, she returned her attention to the bag. Inwardly she winced. She was acting like a horny teenage lycan out for her first sexual experience. She’d had plenty of bedmates. She wasn’t one of those lycans who believed in saving yourself for your soul mate; no, she firmly believed in trying anything at least once. How did a woman know if it fit, if she didn’t try it on?
But lately she’d been limiting her sexual interactions with others. Somehow it didn’t feel quite as right as it had ten years ago. Maybe she was getting jaded. Thirty-seven was fairly old in the lycan world to be single. By her age most lycans had found a mate and settled down. She’d been getting flak on all sides about her status. Her pack alpha was on her back about it and her father, the domineering jerk that he was, constantly sniped at her for not being married and producing a bunch of grandkids for him. She hated his monthly phone calls.
Ren had stopped jumping and was regarding her curiously as he tossed the rope to the side. “Quite the day.”
She broke from her reverie and started punching the bag again. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
His question surprised her. He’d asked her that same question at the warehouse, after almost being shot. She stopped this time and really looked at him. “What kind of question is that? Of course I’m okay.”
“Hey, I’m just asking.” He grabbed his white terry-cloth towel and wiped the sweat from his face and the back of his neck. “You seem a little off. You have been since it happened.”
“I’m fine.” She punched the bag again, as if to prove her words.
“It doesn’t hurt to talk to someone about it.”
“I don’t need your psychoanalysis.”
He smiled. “As if I had the time for that long process.”
Her next punch faltered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means nothing.” He shook his head, then, crouching by his bag, he took out hand wraps.
Mahina tried to ignore him as she circled the bag and performed a series of combinations, punches and kicks. But once he had his hands wrapped, he stepped into her view.
“Want to spar?”
She studied him for a moment. His gaze was guarded, but he had a small smile on his face. He was goading her into it. Daring her to spar with him.
The man knew her all too well. He knew exactly how to help her forget that she’d nearly died and he’d saved her life.
“Are you sure you want to?” She stepped away from the bag and toward the practice mat. “The last guy’s still getting dental work done.”
“Hey, that’s what mouth guards are for.” He showed her the one in his hand.
That made her laugh. “Okay, you’re on.”
Ten minutes later they were both gloved, both wearing mouth guards and circling each other on the thin blue mat.
She’d never sparred with Ren before, so she didn’t know what to expect from him. Most of her male sparring partners learned quite quickly that she never pulled punches and that neither should they, especially if they wanted to keep their good-looking faces intact. It also helped that most of her partners had increased rejuvenation powers, so no injury lasted very long anyway.
Mahina hoped Ren was as smart as she thought him to be. She really didn’t want to mess up her partnership with him by besting him too badly.
After another minute of sizing him up, Mahina feinted with her right hand and struck with a left hook. Ren was much too quick for that and he easily dodged her blow. But it backed him up a little and put a grin on his face.
He pushed the mouth guard out of his mouth and said, “Hmm, you’re not as fast as I’d heard.”
Mahina didn’t comment. Instead she showed him how quick she could be. Within seconds she’d landed two blows, one to his side and the other to his jaw. Satisfaction filled her when Ren stumbled two steps to the right.
“I’m fast enough,” she garbled around the mouth guard.
He shook it off, then came at her with his own combination. She managed to deflect one punch to the head, but wasn’t fast enough to outmaneuver the glove headed for her gut.
The blow knocked the wind from her and she doubled over. Unfortunately, with Mehina being temporarily winded, there was an opportunity for Ren to take another shot at her head. She was impressed when he capitalized on the chance. She would’ve been disappointed if he hadn’t.
The blow to her cheek rattled her head. Black spots popped in and out of her vision. Her knees gave out and she dropped to the mat.
As she gained her breath, Ren approached her. She could see the regret on his face. He held out a glove toward her, intent on helping her up. “Are you all right?”
Instead of taking his hand, she swept her right leg at his ankles and took him down to the mat. She shook her head. He should’ve known she’d use his moment of weakness against him.
While he was still down, Mahina struggled to her feet, but Ren had other ideas.
Wrapping his arms around her legs, he tripped her up and she landed flat on her back. Air whooshed out of her lungs. Before she could move, or even think, Ren was up on his hands and knees pinning her to the mat.
She was acutely aware of his strength as he held her down. She was also conscious of his smell wafting to her. It was heady and potent. One hundred percent rock-hard male. And it was making her blood pump hard through her veins.
Breathing deeply, she took in his scent. By the dark expression in his eyes, she could see that Ren was fully aware of her reaction to him being so close.
She suddenly felt very vulnerable.
His head was near hers. Too near. She glanced at his mouth and imagined taking it hard and fast. His gaze also dipped to her lips. Sweat dripped off his forehead and dotted her cheek. A rush of hot, hearty desire shot through her body. It was enough to drive her mad.
Mahina pushed at his body. Spitting out her mouth guard, she growled, “Get off me.”
He shook his head. “No. I kind of like it here. On top for a change.”
“What, your woman doesn’t let you play the man?”
He grinned. It was slow and easy and made her stomach do a complicated flip-flop. “There is no woman, and you know it, Garner.”
“I don’t know any such thing,” she protested. She was maybe just a bit too fierce in her denial, judging by the amused look on Ren’s face.
“How long have we been working together?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. A few years, I guess.”