Page 10 of Breaking the Habit

“Hey, don’t kill me, okay? I’m taking Gen out tonight.” Cobra smirked as Travis taped his hands. “She’d be pretty pissed if I show up dead.”

“I’ll let you live,” Levi said, rolling his head in a slow circle. “But I can’t promise you’ll look pretty.”

“Goddamn, that’s music to my ears,” Cobra said.

Levi heard the quiet clicks of the camera behind him. He twisted to see Riley snapping pictures from behind the mesh caging of the octagon.

“Hey, Riley,” he called out, hopping from foot to foot. “You know what they say about photographers?”

She lowered her camera slowly, a look that saidOh Godon her face. “What?”

“They tend to flash people. But keep your clothes on with all these people here, okay?”

He sent her the cheesiest grin he could muster before he joined Cobra in the octagon. The time was now. Travis cupped his hands around his mouth to shout out the pre-fight rules—no groin attacks, no strikes to the back of the head or spine, no eye gouging, and so on—and then he called out, “Fight!”

Levi and Cobra circled each other for a little bit. The two of them had a similar fighting backstory—no real formal training until their early twenties, which meant they were both underdeveloped in some ways, compared to more trained fighters like Travis.

Levi had been busting ass for the past six years, since age twenty, to catch up in all the ways he was lacking. Because that was when his entire life had changed. When it became not only necessary butcriticalfor him to figure out a life path and stick with it. For entirely different reasons than everyone else in his age group.

Cobra struck first, which Levi sidestepped. He feigned a punch and then swung in from the side. They sparred heavily, punches raining quick and loud. All his thoughts dissolved under the microscopic attention span of a live fight. His movements became fluid and frictionless. No thought required—just falling back on the years of training and his gut.

Cobra put up a good fight, but Levi ultimately scored a takedown and fully mounted him, pinning his knees to his sides. Cobra did his best to defend himself, even scoring a few punches, but Levi won the round. Shouts erupted, and Levi hopped to his feet, offering a hand. Cobra begrudgingly took it.

“I never know what you’re gonna fucking hit me with,” he grumbled.

“That’s the game plan, brother.” Levi pinched his deltoids. “Good fighting, though.”

Levi grabbed his water bottle sitting off to the side. He met Riley’s gaze through the wide netting of the cage.

“Hey,” she said, hooking a finger through the netting. “This is ruining my pictures.”

He tossed back a swig of water. “Can you make it work?”

“I need a perch.”

Levi laughed, looking around. “You want me to build you a nest over there?”

“Actually, yeah.”

He nodded. She sounded serious. “Okay. I’ll see what we can do.”

Levi returned for another round with Cobra. Time flew once he was in the zone, and after Cobra was done, another fighter joined him, and then another. He’d fought five men by the time the makeshift match was done. Cheek swollen, lip bleeding, and his entire mid-section sore as hell. Just another day on the job.

He groaned as he hobbled out of the cage. Riley had tucked herself off to the side, near the padded gym walls, stowing her camera.

“So what’d you think?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall, probably not even a fifth as casual as he was hoping for. His face had to look a wreck.

She eyed him before responding, “I think you know your stuff inside that octagon.”

He nodded, sniffing, looking back toward the cage. “Yeah, I sorta do.”

Riley zipped up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She offered a polite smile. “I’ll see you at the next practice.”

It didn’t register until she was a few steps away that she was actually leaving. Post-fight, when his pheromones were on overdrive. She could walk away, like he wasn’t glistening and half-naked and in his most primal, masculine state ever.

If this didn’t make her crack, nothing would.

“Where ya going?” he called out.

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