Page 37 of Cruel Legacy

I also know each of those guys would fuck her with no hesitation. They’d be more than happy to test every boundary and see how much of a pounding she can take in and out of the ring.Fuck that. She can learn martial arts from a YouTube channel.

“No!” I growl, turning my back on her and walking away.

When I get back to my office, I pull out the flask I keep in my bottom right desk drawer and take a drink. I can’t believe I let her bait me like that, or that I’m having trouble separating my feelings about what happened between us from my job as herteacher.

God, I really hate that term, because I’m not a teacher. I don’t teach. I train, coach and mentor. Teaching requires a soft touch which I don’t have.

I churn out winners and fighting machines. I find weaknesses and push folks to the breaking point, grinding them down to dust, then build them up to be warriors. I don’t have time to babysit and hand hold pampered prince and princesses, and I definitely don’t give a damn about embarrassing them in front of their peers.

There is a separation between Deacon Wolfe, the coach, and Deacon Wolfe, the man. Thea LaReaux barely met the man, so I shouldn’t be struggling with being her coach.

It has to be because I didn’t fully release that night. My stress, not my load. Sex was the plan. Fucking in an alley wasn’t. I thought maybe I’d go back to their place and have a few hours to work through my pre-semester routine.

I wanted to decompress from the shitty month I had before the start of school and thought I’d do that in some pussy.

Maybe I need to go out and pick up someone new. That way, she isn’t the default setting in my brain for the last time I got my dick wet.

I take another drink and check the incoming text on my phone. I have a scouting session tonight. My plans to empty my mind and my load between someone else’s legs will have to wait.

Chapter20

Thea

Iscowl at the car that barely tapped its brakes at the intersection. I was nowhere near the street, but I’m still pissed about it speeding through the light.

I’m also moodier and more irritable than usual. I knew this would happen. Sitting around doing nothing makes me antsy. I’ve always had way too much energy. Even as a kid. It was easier to control when I was outside playing. Or doing favors for cash.

I’ve got anger issues. I knew this about myself before any shrink ever pointed it out.Hello,mom was the town drunk and more times than I can count, she let her relationship drama and love affair with alcohol affect our home life. I had no home at all once the city got involved, so you’re damn right I’m angry.

In the last three years, I’ve found some coping mechanisms that help and I’ve taken up hobbies that won’t land me in jail. This week, I’ve been walking more and practicing meditation, but I’m still on edge. The best way to calm my urges would be in the sack or the ring.

I tried to do the responsible thing and ask Coach Wolfe about working out in his gym. He didn’t give an explanation for why he said no, but I caught the subtext. Girls can’t fight.

Or at least that’s what Ithoughthe was getting at until I looked up his gym and saw the pictures of him posing with various students. Some of them women. There are even pictures of him at some of the biggest fights in the country and ding-ding, you guessed it. He’s hugged up with women fighters.

He obviously knows we’re badasses in the ring, so why the hell was he so dismissive of me?

It’s bullshit that Deacon Wolfe is the guy that could help me out in either of the ways that’ll mellow me out, and won’t, or can’t.

I didn’t ask about a second round of sex, andwouldn’t, knowing he’s my teacher. I’m sure that crosses a line. But even if I was willing to risk it, his body language and attitude clearly says he’s not interested.

At first, I had convinced myself that he didn’t remember me, but he definitely knows who I am. I can’t believe he tried to throw our hookup in my face. So fuck him,I’mnot interested.

I’m researching gyms in the area, since he couldn’t even be bothered to recommend one. Until I find one, my next best course of action is to just keep moving.

Today’s walk is through what the students call Canyon Falls proper. The university is in Canyon Falls Annex. I didn’t get to see much the night I drove into town or when Aunt Moira took me shopping, so today I’m taking it all in.

The division of wealth hits me as soon as I pass the downtown area. The sleek office buildings, fancy hotels, and sky scrapers end and then there’s just a traffic light, and an abandoned lot on an empty street.

I walk half a block down the empty street, which curves to the left, before another building comes into view. I stand in front of it, taking in the worn shingle and awning. It reminds me of one of those houses on Bourbon Street that you see all the time on television. The one’s with clapboard shutters, where people stand on balconies watching parades go by.

The building next to it isn’t much better. I walk to the end of the street and stop in front of the first building that looks halfway decent. It’s hard to make out the sign, but I take a picture, because I’m curious to know what it used to be.

Across the street, on my right, there’s a parking lot butted up against a building with a mural painted on it. I cut through the lot, then dart through the small alleyway until I reach the front of the building.

A laugh bubbles up out of me when I spot the beach. How did I not know that the town was actually below the street level where my aunt and uncle live? I squint, trying to make out houses on either end of the beach, but I’m too far away to see any.

“Hello, there.” The greeting draws my attention back to the front of the building.

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