Yanna

I’m in the cage, hundreds watching from the seats all around and more at home, waiting for the fight to start. I’ve always been able to shut out the world outside the cage once it’s closed. But not tonight. I keep glancing into the crowd, hoping to spot Hawk, hoping to see him smiling at me, waving at me, letting me know he’s here, watching me. I never needed that from anyone. When I fight, I fight for myself. So why do I crave it now?

All day I kept glancing at my phone, hoping to see a text from him, or a missed call. But he didn’t text and he didn’t call, and he’s not in the crowd watching me, smiling at me like he promised he would.

I don’t need this confusion, this distraction, this need to see him that overshadows my need to win right now, along with my desire to fight at all. I had moments of pure focus today, but they were all short lived, and they kept getting interrupted by memories of last night. I hoped that once I arrived to the venue and put on my gear, the focus would stay too. So much for hoping.

Of all the fights, tonight’s is the one I fear the most. I’m facing Lana “Arm Rip” Dover, a wrestler turned MMA fighter and all my strengths are a weakness against her. I’m lithe on my feet, fast with my punches and kicks, but she’s a mountain of a woman and she’ll try to pin me down first chance she gets. My litheness will be a disadvantage then, one that can cost me this tournament. She’s as strong as an ox, apparently, and I’ve sacrificed strength in favor of speed.

Vlad is certain I can win this fight if I knock her out fast and keep out of her grasp. But she’s an expert at grabbing her opponents and pinning them down, not letting go until there’s no choice but to yield. That’s how she’s won every single fight until now. And she’s pretty much won them all, save for a few in the beginning of her career. Vlad thinks that makes her predictable, but I won’t be able to predict jack shit if I don’t get my mind off Hawk and back on this fight. The trouble is, I don’t want to. I want to keep thinking about him.

Lana’s been glaring at me from across the cage since we entered it. She’s sizing me up, and she thinks I’m easy prey, that much is evident from her squinting gaze. But I’ve never been easy prey. I’m the hunter, the aggressor, the champion. I don’t yield.

Except last night. I yielded to Hawk last night, surrendered completely, let him take me. I didn’t want to, but I liked it. I liked it so very much I’d rather be doing that all over again right now. But yielding to him broke my steel. I didn’t manage to mend it all day and not for lack of trying. There’s no more time to try now, since they’re already announcing the start of the fight. The fight in which I might lose it all. Waste all I’ve worked so hard to achieve all my life. All because he found my soft side and made me like it more than I’ve ever liked anything else. Now he’s not even here to watch this.

“Gather round!” the ref yells, and I bounce to his side automatically and listen to his instructions, not really hearing them. But that’s alright, I already know the rules.

Lana won’t bump gloves with me. If her glares didn’t already convince me, then this gesture does. She has no respect for me and she’ll destroy me if she must to win this fight. I don’t take kindly to that. Or the Yanna who still yearns to be the best of the best doesn’t. This soft one that just misses Hawk’s smile and touch doesn’t really care that much. Scary shit.

The ref starts the match.

Lana comes out swinging, catching me off guard, since I was going for the same thing. I have no time to block, and her quick, hard punches leave my head ringing once I finally manage to kick her back.

She’s winded, because I got her good in the stomach, but she charges again regardless. There’s no blocking her this time and nowhere to run. She tackles me and I go down hard, barely managing to prevent my head from slamming into the floor, which at this point, after the blows I already suffered, might mean the end of this fight right there.

But by focusing on that, I give her the time she needs to get me into one of those arm locks she’s famous for. She’s ended careers with this move, dislocating her opponents’ shoulders beyond repair. But we’re not quite there yet, although my shoulder is already burning.

She has my face sandwiched between her meaty thighs while she pulls back my arm at an unnatural angle, twisting it as she goes. Vlad told me to prevent this moment at all cost, because no one escapes once she latches onto them like this. He’s been telling me that since the moment we learned I’ll be facing her in this tournament. And here I am, helpless in this arm ripping lock of hers mere minutes after the start of the fight.

Seconds tick by, long like hours. I’m beat, my arm is moments from getting dislocated, and I’m watching my career, all my hopes and dreams fading as I struggle with the decision to yield, to save my arm but kiss goodbye all I wished to achieve in this tournament. I fight her grip with all my strength, my muscles coiled and tight, preventing Lana from defeating me completely, from ripping my shoulder out of it’s socket and ending this fight, and quite possibly my career with it. This will come down to who is stronger, and I’m afraid it’s her. My shoulder is one burning ball of flame, as she twists it even harder, breathing loud and groaning from my effort.

Soon all the muscles in my body are shaking from the effort of preventing her win, all of them burning. I can’t hold out, my muscles starting to relax even as I will them to tighten harder. All my hard work, all my preparation, all my sacrifice, all my pain and fear, none of it compares to the fear of losing, of going down this pitifully, this quickly, like a little lamb that knows no better. Like the lambs at my grandma’s farm that were slaughtered. All meek and soft but, oh my god, how they screamed when they died. It didn’t save them, but I’m screaming too. From deep in my chest, screaming at the top of my lungs, louder than the crowd.

All my hopes and dreams are rushing away from me, my whole body burning…burning like it was last night as I fought for control with Hawk, before I let him have it, before I surrendered, and the cool waters of pleasure that brought were more amazing than anything in this world. It won’t be like that when I surrender now, but at least I’ll have the memory of it clear in my mind as the ref announces my defeat.

So I relax now too, let all my muscles go soft and pliant. It catches Lana off guard, her grip on my arm loosening just enough for me to rip it out of her hands. My shoulder keeps right on burning, but that doesn’t stop me from elbowing her hard in the solar plexus. I use her momentary breathlessness to wriggle free, and kick her in the side of the head, because this could be my one and only chance to knock her out. I kick her a few more times while she’s still down, which is not my style usually, but this is my one shot, and I won’t waste it. I can’t even lift my right arm without screaming in pain, that elbow to the chest was all I had in me. If she comes after me a second time, I’m a goner.

I skip away from her once I think she’s had enough, my whole body tight again as I swing from side to side, ready to pounce as soon as she starts to get up. I can’t let her regain her feet. I’ll kick her back down if she tries. Kick her until she can’t get up anymore. My focus is back.

She’s on her knees, but her eyes are closed and she’s groaning as she presses her fists into the ground to try and stand up. But she’s not getting up.

Seconds are ticking by like hours again, the burning in my shoulder abating but not disappearing.

She groans louder, screams practically, as she makes one last hard attempt to stand up. But she fails and collapses to the ground, lying on her side and groaning, but more quietly now.

The ref is by her side, bending over her and trying to get her attention.

She opens her eyes, but she keeps on groaning and her eyes are more white than colored, with no disrespectful and angry glare in them left. She can’t talk. She can’t get up. She’s down.

I won.

I did it.

And that fact doesn’t quite sink in until the ref is lifting my uninjured arm up and announcing me the winner.

It only sinks in when I spot Hawk in the crowd, smiling at me when our eyes meet, clapping louder than all the rest of them. Hundreds are screaming and wooing, some even booing, but it’s like we’re the only two people in the whole arena.

I couldn’t have won this fight if he hadn’t showed me the power of surrender last night. He showed me the absolute bliss it can bring, and tonight it brought me victory in the wake of certain defeat. I never surrendered before. For years and years, I ignored the part of me that was soft and wanted to. And that was a mistake.

He’s not a distraction and he’s not a complication. He’s exactly what I needed. Hawk is the exact piece that’s been missing from my life since forever, since I was taken from my grandma’s farm, since I became all alone in this world.

* * *

“It is better we take you to the ER to get that shoulder looked at,” Vlad keeps saying. He found a medic somewhere, and that guy agrees with this assessment, but I don’t feel any pain. Could be because Vlad already sprayed it with that magic cooling spray that takes all pain away right after the match. Or it could be because Hawk is standing in the hall outside, leaning against the wall opposite the open door with his arms entwined over his chest, and a smile on his lips that’s just for me.

“I feel fine,” I say, completely uncharacteristically, since normally I’d be the first to suggest going to the hospital to get something checked out. My priority was always been keeping my body healthy, since it’s all I have, and I need to be in top shape to win fights. Was being the operative word here. Because right now, all I want to do is go home and spend the night naked with Hawk.

Vlad follows my gaze and makes an annoyed grunt. “You did very good today Yanna, I thought it was all over but you came through, you won against all odds like you always do, but you have two more fights before you win this thing. Don’t take any risks now. That guy’ll wait if he’s worth it. If not, you’ve lost nothing.”

Vlad’s right, I know he is, but spending the rest of the night at the ER is the last thing I want to do.

Hawk’s smile turns into a grin as he peels off the wall to come closer to the door. “You should go get your injury checked out. Come on, I’ll take you.”

Vlad’s eyes actually bulge out even further than they normally protrude as I slip off the table and walk up to Hawk without so much as a peep of the protests I’ve been giving him for the last half hour.

“We’ll all go,” Vlad says after he clears his throat. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

“No arguing with that guy, is there?” Hawk says quietly as he watches Vlad stride down the hall away from us.

“Not usually,” I say. “That’s why he’s the best.”

He wraps his arm loosely around my waist, twirling me around and pulling me closer with no effort at all, as though I was no heavier than a leaf blowing in the wind. But I’m not getting blown around aimlessly anymore, not with him here to catch me. I can clearly feel the outline of his hard cock against my belly. It’s making me want it, but this is more than just sexual. The way he looks into my eyes, the way he smiles so softly, causing a warm summer breeze to blow straight through me, as the first spray of a summer shower, coming down while the sun is still shining, beats against my skin. I already feel all that and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.

He uses the other hand to brush a braid that came loose off my face, and my lips are already tingling because I want him to kiss me so much.

“You were good today,” he says. “That other chick had no chance.”

“I was so scared of her,” I admit. “Once she gets you in one of her arm locks, she doesn’t let go. They call her Arm Rip and she almost earned that nickname all over again tonight.”

“Well, I don’t know about any of that, but you made short work of beating her,” he says and chuckles.

There are so many things I wanted to say to him before. How he’s the one who showed me how to relax, how to let go and surrender, giving me the only thing that’s been missing from my mind and my skill set, and how I would’ve lost tonight’s fight, if he hadn’t grabbed me and kissed me, and made me his, last night.

It seemed so logical to tell him all that while we were locking eyes in the arena, but now, while I do still feel all those things, I also realize he’s still little more than a stranger to me, a guy who came out of nowhere and turned my life around in more ways than one, but still a stranger. And you don’t go saying personal and intimate things like that to strangers. It could be too much, too fast. Guys are in it for the sex, first and foremost, feelings scare them away, and I don’t want to scare Hawk away. Ever.

One day, I’ll tell him all about how I grew up on the streets, alone, and how it made me hard. How the first time I ever felt like a woman, soft and vulnerable, was with him, last night, how he’s given me something I didn’t even know I yearned for until he did. But not tonight. Tonight I’ll just kiss him.

He grins wide, trying to look even deeper into my eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, and it sounds like he really wants to know. I’ll tell him soon, but not yet.

So instead of answering I stand on my toes and kiss him. It’s like taking a plunge into cool water after a long summer run, like sitting on the porch in the evening, the breeze steady and warm, my body tired, but content and at rest. It’s like sneaking a piece of the walnut pie my grandma would make while it’s still warm. No. It’s actually better than all those things combined.

“Are you coming or what?” Vlad yells, and I can hear that tightness in his voice that’s always there right before he loses his shit completely.

“Yes, coming,” I call out, my voice sing-song and melodic like it never is. Or like it never has been since the day my grandma died.

“We should go,” I tell Hawk apologetically.

He frowns and nods. “Yes, or Vlad will get mad. That’s a good name for him. Like Vlad the Impaler. Are they related?”

“That’s Dracula and he was Romanian,” I say after a couple of seconds of trying to puzzle out what he meant. “We’re Russian.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Hawk says and I think I finally managed to get a one-up on him, to turn the tables and faze him like he’s been doing to me since that night he just showed up in my dressing room out of nowhere. Usually I’d gloat over something like that and rub it in, but I have no such urge right now.

“Well, he’s a pain in the ass either way,” Hawk says and pulls me closer again. “Let’s make him wait a little longer.”

Then he kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll get to do it for a good long while, but I hope it’s only the first time, the start of something that could last years, that could last forever.