The Warrior Within

1 TWILIGHT FAN CLUB Bobbing my head to the hypnotic beat, I make my way around the dance floor, my eyes full of the mass of sweat-slicked bodies writhing under the strobe lights. There is some serious eye candy here tonight. Carefully, I continue along the long side of the L-shaped bar to the short hall leading to the smaller bathroom, counting on a shorter line. Don’t ask me why the area’s most popular nightclub only has one stall on this side, but most people know about it and opt for the larger bathrooms on the other side of the dance floor. To entertain myself in line, I turn around and face the greater room. My body sways slightly to the beat. I miss dancing. I wish… No. No sense getting caught up in wishing. But the thought sours my enjoyment of watching the dancers. Instead, I turn my attention to the people clustered around the bar, entertaining myself with the gay or nay game. Okay, maybe it isn’t especially politically correct, but it amuses me. HoneyBears, the area’s only gay bar, is famous for cheap drinks and amazing music. They draw huge mixed crowds every weekend. Visually, I make my way down the bar, noting to myself gay or nay, while balancing on the cane as I keep the rhythm. Unexpectedly, my eyes snag on the sexiest woman I have ever seen sitting at the far corner of the bar. My mouth goes dry. Statuesque, she towers at least a head over those around her. In the flickering light, I can only tell her hair is dark, shaved close on the sides with perfectly messy curls on top, as if she just ran her hands through it. Dressed in an inky sleeveless mock turtleneck that emphasize a long neck and powerfully built frame—holy cannoli, is she a hot, hot, hottie. Contrasting sharply with the black top, her flawless skin glows pale. Talk about butch. At a glance, I’d assume she was a man. Oh, Gaia. You are so my type. My breath hitches. I swear, she is staring right back at me, smirking like she just heard a joke. No, not at me. Someone’s behind me, right? Casually, I turn around, but I’m the only one paying attention to her. When I look back, she nods once as if in confirmation, and my breath leaves me. I swear, if she isn’t a lesbian, I’m going to cry. A devastatingly handsome man walks up to Hottie. They talk, but Hottie keeps staring back at me. Through me. I could seriously get lost in that woman’s intense gaze. I resist the urge to look behind me again. Handsome follows Hottie’s gaze and I squirm under his hostile scrutiny. He’s casual in ripped jeans and a faded black T-shirt with a Led Zeppelin album cover on it, but only a fool would dismiss the danger rolling off him in waves. He’s lean and clearly strong, with chiseled cheeks and piercing eyes. A chill goes through me despite the heat. Thankfully, after a long second, the man dismisses me, and I let out the breath I was holding. Grabbing a martini glass from the bar, he heads across the room. The line moves, and I step back several paces into the darkness of the hall, giving me the relief of anonymity. But Hottie keeps staring in my direction as if she can still see me. Surely, she can’t. My mind runs away with an image of those intense eyes probing mine as she bends to kiss me, and my pulse races before I can blink the illusion away. A sexy grin stretches across Hottie’s face. I start to return her smile and stop myself just in time. Ridiculous. She isn’t grinning at me. A small group of laughing women join me in the back of the line and my view is broken. All three of these pretty women are very drunk and clearly having a blast. Watching them, I wish I was out with my best friend Emma tonight instead of being the designated driver for my coworkers. Finally, I give up on being able to see around the women. Probably for the best, anyway. Hottie is so far out of my league, I’m not even in the stadium. I turn and face the cute woman in front of me. She’s young, petite, and wearing darkly provocative eye makeup. She has on a tight pair of cut-offs and a tighter cropped top. A belly button piercing flashes—no really, it must be an LED light—on her flat stomach. I look down at my own outfit and stifle a sigh. Of all the women in this club tonight, why on Earth was that sexy woman looking at me? My coworkers and I went out for a casual dinner after work before coming here. I didn’t know this is where we would end up, or believe me, I would have dressed differently. While my T-shirt is a pretty green, it is two sizes too big, with Visualize Whirled Peas emblazoned in large white letters across my chest. Not exactly club attire. And to top it all off, I’ve tucked it loosely into baggy jeans that don’t flatter my figure at all, but leave room for a knee brace. The result is that the T-shirt balloons out, making me look larger than I am, thanks to the two best things my mother gave me. Completing this stunning outfit is a worn pair of dark brown Clarks that are very good for my feet and back, but look like boats. It feels like my ponytail has come loose. Yup, s*x goddess, that’s me. Fashionista Emma would be horrified if she saw me here now. And completing the ensemble, there’s the cane. Navy, with bright flowers, it doesn’t blend in so well. I hate how people look at me when I have it. All the questions even strangers feel free to ask. You poor thing! What happened? Do you need help? Ugh. I tried to convince myself it was an accessory, but times like this, I wish it were easier to hide. Who am I kidding? I wish I didn’t have it at all. The woman in front of me goes in after two others emerge holding hands. I don’t even want to think about what they were doing in that disgusting stall. Yuck. When it’s finally my turn, I take a quick second to refresh my ponytail, tucking wisps behind my ears, stifling my hope that I’ll see that butch again. Yet, on my way out, I can’t stop myself from seeking her. My heart sinks when I can’t find her. Why so surprised? It just confirms what I suspected all along. People like that aren’t interested in people like me. Move along, hot women, move along. There’s nothing to see here. The dejection that blankets me takes a long minute to shake off. Maybe I’m not as resigned to singlehood as I thought. After the relative quiet of the hallway and bathroom, the thumping music and flashing lights are starting to give me a headache. I pick my way along the bar, trying to anticipate the erratic movements of the writhing crowd. Suddenly, a shrieking woman tumbles backwards off her stool right at me. Instinctively, I twist and lurch away, wrenching my bad knee and my back. I lean heavily on my cane when the flailing woman manages to kick it out from under me, and the cane flies out of my hand. Trying to remain upright, I flail my arms. Staggering backwards, I run into a solid barricade. An arm sweeps across my abdomen and lifts me flush against a hard body, as if I’m a rag doll. The tall stranger’s arm holds me so high on my abdomen that my double Ds are propped on top of it, like a shelf. But all thoughts are chased away by a nerve pulse shooting down my leg, and I spasm and gasp with the white-hot pain. “I have you, I have you, shhhh.” Soft breath and a deep voice caress my ear. An enticing scent calms me somewhat, but my focus is scattered. “Are you hurt?” All I can manage is a jerk of my head as the nerve zings again, coiling around my foot like a live wire. “Merde.” Disjointedly, I note the slight accent and recognize the French curse. “Can you sit?” At a second jerky nod, I’m lifted effortlessly onto a stool. In dismayed shock, I recognize my savior. Figures Hottie would have to see me like this. Gah, she’s strong. My teeth are clenched in pain and I’m trying not to draw attention to myself. I mumble, “My cane, I-I need my cane.” I hurt so badly, I can’t even think beyond getting out of this place. “I will get your cane. Right now, you just keep breathing, in and out, good.” She takes a few deep breaths with me and I train my focus on her emerald eyes. Once she sees I’m breathing more deeply, she squeezes sideways beside me, signaling the bartender. Facing the dance floor, I can’t hear or see what she’s doing. Every bit of me is focused on trying not to cry. Only drunks cry in bars. Remember? You are having fun tonight. I’m staring blindly down when a figure approaches and I look up into steely eyes. Super. Mr. Danger looks me over critically, eyebrows knitted, and I shudder. He turns to Hottie, anger punctuating a British accent forced through clenched teeth. “b****y hell! I hope you know what you’re doing, mate.” Relax. It’s called pity. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to me. Give me a minute and I’ll be on my way. Hottie maneuvers around, holding a glass of what looks like a soda. She hands it to me, a fat straw swirling as if it’s just been stirred. “Drink this. It will help.” When another shot of pain passes, I blow out my breath. “Thanks, but I don’t want any alcohol.” I try to push her hand away. She is so strong that all I end up doing is pressing my hand against the back of hers. Her cool skin is like satin over steel. I let my hand drop, and I can’t stop the jerk when the nerve zaps me again. My shin is alive with pins and needles now. Hottie ducks her head so our eyes meet and hers are intense. Like dark evergreen forests with streaks of sunlight peeking through. “Oui, so I noticed. No alcohol, I promise. Besides, you look very thirsty.” Towering over me, a woodsy, sensual scent envelopes me. Cologne? Pain momentarily forgotten, the smell tightens my abdomen. I take the sweating glass as she turns to him. “It is under control, Niall. Let the others know that I will be a while.” Niall walks away, shaking his head. I can’t believe how thirsty I am all of a sudden. When all I taste is soda, I’m relieved. Gah, I’m so thirsty. I chug half the glass. “Thank you.” Hottie nods and keeps staring at me like she’s trying to read my thoughts. Thank the goddess that can’t happen. A few more deep swigs and I lean back into the bar. The nerve pulse isn’t as sharp and my knee doesn’t seem to throb as much. I feel my face and shoulders relax. I take another long drink and a deep breath. When the shooting pain stops abruptly, the relief is so profound that tears pop into my eyes and I gasp. Despite blinking rapidly, one tear escapes. I stop breathing altogether when she cups the side of my face and her thumb wipes the tear away. I have an insane urge to rub my face in her hand like a cat. The gesture is so intimate that I squirm self-consciously. She drops her hand and gestures to the glass. “Finish that.” “What do you mean, you noticed?” I’m a little slow catching up, but she seems to know to what I’m referring. There are only a few swallows left and I drink them down. Just like that, my headache dissolves and the tingles in my leg disappear. I feel almost normal. Weird. I’ve never had pain just go away like that. A sultry look comes into her eyes, distracting me. “Oh, I have been watching you for a while now. Hard not to. With a face like this lit up by laughter—” she spreads her hands in a can-you-blame-me gesture. I’m really out of practice because that can’t mean what it sounds like she is implying, but my cheeks heat anyway. I mean, look at me. “Especially judging the condition of your…friends…you surprise me. You are different.” Yeah, I’m different, alright. I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. Nervously, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear a couple of times. I can’t believe how much just sitting here has helped me. How is that possible? I actually feel better than before that drunk fell into me. At that moment, the memory of what happened floods me. I have been so fully distracted by the pain that I forgot. In my mind’s eye, I see myself flailing my arms and hopping around like a crazed bird, and then tripping right into this s*x-on-a-stick woman…I cover my face and groan into my hands. How humiliating. If it weren’t for this knee, I never would have lost my balance. Gods, I hate this body. She takes hold of my wrists and gently pulls my hands away from my reddened face. “I believe you are being too hard on yourself. Did you ask that woman to fall off the stool into you?” Oops. Guess I said some of that out loud. “No, no. I just looked ridiculous. Gods, I hope I didn’t hurt you when I ran into you.” She shakes her head, looking amused again. “Look, thank you. For everything. But I’m fine now. I’ll go back to my coworkers and you can go back to…” I trail off. For some reason, I started to say the hunt. Though she seems calm, she’s as intense as her friend, Niall. As if underneath the veneer, she is coiled for…violence. “Please, do not apologize for something you cannot help. Everyone looks ridiculous when they fall, n’est pas? Besides, you saved me the trouble of figuring out how best to approach you while simultaneously setting me up to be the hero. I should be thanking you.” She smiles and it transforms her face. Just wow. Then she gets serious again. “Can I ask you something?” “Um, sure, I guess.” I frown, figuring it’s going to be about the cane or the knee brace. Her hands are resting on my knees, so I know she feels it. That’s why I’m floored when she comes out of left field. “Why do you hide your incredible body? Because when you were pressed up against me, mmm, believe me, I felt every luscious curve.” Her eyes heat and her accent thickens with the seductive words. My mouth drops open. For real. Cheeks red, I snap it shut. My 1950s pin-up body doesn’t fit today’s ideal of lean beauty. Besides, who would want a crip like me? Ignored is easier than rejected, so I hide. I’m grasping around for something to say, tucking my loose hair behind my ear a few times. Watching my struggle, a slow, sexy smile spreads across her face. “What is your name, belle?” I blink. Twice. Beautiful? I blink again and shake my head. Stop. She probably calls all women beautiful. It isn’t personal. “Ah, my name is Libby.” Her face lit up with mirth, she gives me a short bow and says, “A pleasure to meet you, Libby.” She rolls my name around her tongue like melting chocolate, and I think it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, my name on her lips. “I am Jo.” “Hello, Jo.” I laugh at the rhyme, and that’s when it hits me how tired I am. Had it been up to me, I would have left hours ago, but since I agreed to be the designated driver, I need to wait. I thunk my forehead. “My friends are probably wondering what happened to me.” “Libby, these friends are beyond caring about anything. See for yourself.” She wraps her arm around my back and presses me forward so that I can see around the people at the bar to our table. The action is so familiar that I’m momentarily overwhelmed. I’m entranced by her sexy scent and inhale deeply. With effort, I pull myself together enough to focus on the table. Several people have joined them, and the party is raging on just fine without me. I straighten and look up. Jo lowers her head and cinnamon-scented breath fans my cheek. I wonder if she’s going to kiss me. Gah, I want her to kiss me. Her eyes are hypnotic. On another deep inhale of her delicious scent, the butterflies dive deep. Gulping, I break eye contact, and lean back, babbling like a scared teenager rather than the experienced 27-year-old I am. “Obviously, my co-workers are okay. They sure look like they’re having a great time. I guess they don’t miss me.” It’s been a long time since someone showed interest in me, and unless I am way off, she is. But she can’t be! And I have apparently forgotten how to flirt. Mortification colors my cheeks. What is wrong with me? Her smoldering expression clears, and she straightens and steps back. I relax, albeit disappointed, smoothing away hair that tickles my cheek. “Do you live nearby, Libby?” “Um, no, actually I live about 45 minutes south of here. Down 81.” A broad smile brightens her face. “As do I. Will you allow me to help you?” I don’t know what she is talking about, but I find myself agreeing. “Yes.” Then I can’t help myself. “But you have already done so much, you don’t have to—” “This is not about what I have to do, Libby, rather what I want to do. If you will allow me.” I’m still not sure what she intends to do, but strangely, I feel safe with this complete stranger. “Sure. Please.” “Excellent. Do not move.” She pats my knees and I watch her weave her way through the crowd, texting on her phone. A quick look around finds Niall standing at a table not far away, watching me pensively. I feel like making a face at him, but the childish impulse passes, thank Gaia. In this lighting, he’s almost painfully white, even more so than Jo. I glance around at the handful of equally pale, ridiculously attractive people. It’s the Twilight Fan Club gone seriously wrong. Lay off the plastic surgery, folks, and get some sun. It’s kind of pathetic. Suddenly, Niall doubles over with laughter. Yeah, I know. The idea that she’s into me is hilarious, am I right? On her way back to me, Jo studies the floor, and a few feet away she ducks down and comes up holding my cane. She moves like my cat, lithe and quick. I could watch her body move all night. Gods, what I wouldn’t give to watch that sexy body move to music. Any music. Somehow, I manage to smile. “Thank you. Really. You didn’t have to.” “Come, before you fall off this stool from sheer exhaustion.” I pat the bulging pocket where my keys rest. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to but I’m the DD tonight. I have to wait for them to finish partying.” “Oui, so they earnestly informed me. I sent for a car to take them home.” Does she mean a taxi? Uber? Should I pay for it? “Um. Okay.” It hits me that I’ve crossed over that fatigue line. Geez. I may not be safe to even drive myself home. “You do not have to, Libby.” I must have voiced my thought again. I really am tired. She smiles enigmatically. “Louis will take you home. Tomorrow, when you are ready, he will bring you back to your car.” She stops the protest rising on my face. I get the impression she’s angry with me. “Did you not agree to allow me to help you, Libby?” For a second I think I see a flash of red in her eyes, but I blink and it’s gone and I’m sure my tired brain conjured it. I swallow and reluctantly nod my acquiescence. It’s not often I accept help, but tonight, I know I need it. She keeps hold of my cane, having no trouble cutting through the crowd, and I focus on following in her wake to the door. However, I’m not too tired to notice the tight buns in those fitted designer jeans. Holy Hairballs! She stops when Niall meets up with her and they have a quiet conversation. He actually winks at me as he walks by. It is such a relief when we step outside into the quiet. I lift my face to the night sky and fill my lungs with the cooler air. My ears ring. “I regret that I am unable to personally see you home this evening, but I invited people here and I must play host. However, I trust Louis with my life and I hope you can forgive me.” “Oh, there’s nothing to forgive. You’ve done so much.” I’m disappointed she isn’t coming with me, but I hold my tongue. We come from vastly different worlds. She could have anyone. And she probably can’t wait to get back to her friends. “Goodbye. It was nice to meet you.” An energetic 50ish gentleman wearing a smart black suit and a kind smile hurries to us, and Jo hands him my cane. He bows to Jo, then to me, and steps discreetly away to wait by a huge black SUV parked on the street. This must be Louis. Jo lays her hands on my shoulders. “This is not goodbye, sweet Libby with the sexiest-yet-carefully-concealed body.” I’m fully blushing now, her seductive smile warming me to my toes. “Au revoir, until we meet again.” She brushes her lips across my forehead, helps me up into the SUV, and turns. She and Louis speak in low voices and I touch the spot she kissed. Once settled into the buttery leather, fatigue covers me like a blanket. I rouse myself as Louis hands me my cane, and then his card, which I tuck it into my pocket. My eyes lock on Jo as he closes the door. I can hardly believe what’s happened tonight is real, and I’m afraid I’ll never see her again. Reluctantly, I tear my gaze away to give Louis my address for his GPS. When I look back, Jo hasn’t moved. Bathed in streetlight, she stands like a fabled goddess of war in marble, watching us roll down the street.