34. KATIE
Chapter thirty-four
KATIE
I hate fighting cocky dudes.
This guy, Ace, is taller than I am, and lean, his dark hair cropped short with a hint of curl, and a matching black goatee hugging his jawline. On Earth we’d say he’s mixed, clear olive skin and blue-green eyes that could throw you off balance if you weren't careful. And a smile that makes him look almost friendly, but I can see the muscle corded in his forearms and biceps. Before his gloves went on, I saw his knuckles – and they are scarred– not the kind you get from fighting, but more like nicks and scrapes.
He probably works with his hands, like a mechanic or electrician.
Which means he has a functional kind of strength. Sure he trains, he’s in a prestigious gym after all. But he uses his strength.
“Are you sure she’s your Omega? She’s definitely liking what she’s seeing here,” he laughs.
I scowl. These fucking Alphaholes. Arrogant, every last one.
“I’m deciding if I like your smile enough not to knock it out,” I snap back. His grin slips. Do they really think they can talk this way and not have someone put them in their place? Do Omegas here really have no spine?
Then I remember the Alpha bark from the hospital, and how utterly powerless I was against it. It’s infuriating. But could explain why so many Omegas are docile.
I curl my hands into fists, sinking into a fighting stance, one hand up to cover my face, the other in front.
“Big words for a little woman,” he taunts back. I know in sparring you're not supposed to hurt your opponent, but I deeply want to inflict some pain. I’m tired of all these Alphas underestimating me. It’s too much like some men back on Earth thinking that all women are just theirs to grab and use how they want.
Ace bounces on his toes. He feigns forward and I lightly lean back. He’s definitely got fast-twitch muscles, ones that could offer him a powerful amount of force. I need to use that to my advantage.
Do they have ju-jitsu here? If not, I might be able to press that as an advantage.
Ace darts forward again, with a light jab. I hop to the side, keeping as light on my feet as I can. A plan forms, and I offer up a right hook, colliding with left shoulder, then bouncing back quickly. His eyebrows raise.
Yeah, an Omega can hit .
“Looks like you have a tiger pretending to be a kitten,” Ace calls. The men watching me all shout, a few whistling. One comments about my ass.
“She is a tiger, and trust me, she has claws enough to rip any of you gymbos to shreds,” Max shouts back. Pride laces through his words.
Max is proud of me, his Omega, because I can fight.
Not that it matters. I didn’t learn any of this for him . But still. Warmth and pleasure bloom in my chest.
Riding that high, I spring forward again, ducking low and feigning with another right, before coming up to land a punch right to Ace’s exposed belly. He grunts, taking two staggering steps back.
The good thing about being short is there is less of your body to have to defend.
“Damn, girl’s got some force,” he says, sucking in a breath. The crowd pushes closer to the sparring mats, more shouts and whistles. I feel Max bristle, as though he’s standing next to me, and not on the other side of the mat. He’s ready to pounce on anyone who sets so much as their big toe out of line.
“Have you been bested by a little slip of an Omega, Ace? Nova’s really got you by the ballsack back at your club?” A burly man jeers.
Okay, this guy I would have no problem actually hurting. He’s big, almost too big to be allowed in an indoor space. He looks like he should be out on some mountain, trapping wild things and eating them raw.
“Shove off, Roark,” Ace says.
“Why don’t you shove off. Let a real pack Alpha fight.”
Roark pushes into the ring, lumbering toward me like a grizzled viking. But I am ready, because fuck this Alphahole. He swings, and I realize he wants to grab me, but I step back just enough, to grab his arm and propel him forward, using his own momentum against him. He crashes into the gathered Alphas on the other side of the mat.
Laughter erupts as several men whistle. Ace nods at me, amusement glinting in his gaze.
“Strong and smart,” Ace says, his eyes tracing over me with clear admiration. “No wonder Max finally settled down with an Omega. They don’t make them like you.”
“Too bad,” I snap back at him. “You Alphaholes need more Omegas who can bite back.”
“Agreed,” Ace says, which surprises me. I’m focused on him, and not what’s happening behind me, which is foolish. I took my eyes off the true danger.
“Pretty little pussy wants to fight,” Roark jeers, pulling himself back onto the mat. “But that's not fighting fair, is it?”
“Roark,” Max warns. “Stand down, man.”
“And be shown up by a little bit of Omega skirt? Not on your life, Max.”
Roark lunges. I dart to the side, but his arm length is longer than I expect and he snatches me up, pressing me into his chest with enough force to knock the air out of me.
“How do you like that, Omega? To be up against a real Alpha,” he nuzzles my hair and I smell the bitter tang of his scent – burnt meat and musk. Against my hip I feel his erection pressing insistently against me. I struggle, trying to edge my elbow into his side, but he only squeezes me tighter.
“You’re unbonded. What fool would let you leave their house without forcing your bond first?” He continues to nuzzle, and a sick feeling of dread washes over me.
I bring my foot down hard on the top of Roark’s instep. He grunts, using my own momentum to bend me forward just enough that his erection is now wedged against my ass. Fuck this, I am going to rip his throat out. I thrash my head backwards, just as a sound makes my whole body go slack for a single heartbeat.
“LET HER GO ROARK!” Max’s thunderous voice sweeps through the room, flooding my senses.