Page 73 of My Undead Heart

I’m familiar with denying myself.

Dropping pounds to make weight for a fight is one of the most agonizing experiences. Sweat. No food. No water. Sauna. More sweat. It’s the worst because during the process the mind wants to fixate on the very things it can’t have. But fighters—those who are seasoned and have been through the trenches—know how to focus on the prize. Otherwise, they’ve lost before even stepping inside the octagon.

That’s how the rest of my Monday goes, my willpower put to the test. I want to call Mia. Text her. Make sure she’s okay, see how her day went, and ask to spend more time together. Request we break this stupid bet in exchange for something real. But all of those options automatically put me out of the game. If this morning proved nothing else, it’s that she’s waiting for me to screw up, and that the demons from our pasts are right on our heels.

But I won’t let that happen. I’m not one to back down from a challenge, and as much patience, precision, and skill as this battle with her heart will require, it’ll be worth every bit of the process. I just know it. And so I wait. I won’t text her first. But if she doesn’t show for training tomorrow, I’m going for her and calling her out. Because Mia doesn’t deserve to be treated with kid gloves. She’s strong, ready, and willing to fight. Even if it’s with me.

Maybe it was unwise to let her sleep over at my place, but I’m so glad she did, even if it was by accident. It’s not as though we really discussed the arrangement, more or less both passing out after a phenomenal night of sex. But I could tell she was spooked from the second she tried to sneak past me and out my apartment this morning. I’m sure she assumed I wasn’t there, and normally I wouldn’t be. I teach the early classes, but late last night I knew I’d rather spend the early morning hours in bed next to Mia. I texted one of my trainers before I fell asleep and he agreed to cover for me.

The location of my uncle’s job site only adds to the temptation, considering I’m only a few floors beneath the woman consuming my every thought. We’re close to finishing this job so it’s a bare bones crew with Jesse while Carl starts another project across town. I’m not sure I could deal with his asshole dictatorship crap this week, so I appreciate the break.

Putting thoughts of Mia out of my head the best I can, I push through the next two days of work. Long days and even longer nights, because even though we’ve only spent one evening together, it’s not enough.

By the time Tuesday night rolls around I’m more than looking forward to my training session with Mia. It’s all I can think about, including about a dozen different ways that involve my lips tracing every inch of her body. Still, she’s been known to run so when she steps inside South Side a good ten minutes after my boys have left for the night, I’m surprised.

“You showed.” I arch my brows.

“It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” She shrugs and peels off her jacket as I lock up the front door.

“I wasn’t sure, after—”

She holds up one hand. “Look, let’s not do this. If you want to end our sessions, I’ll go now.” Glancing away, she grabs her jacket and starts for the exit.

“Mia, stop.” I stand in front of the still-locked door so she can’t pass without physically moving me out of the way. My brow lifts and I fight the smile on my lips. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming because you were late. I didn’t think you did that.”

“Well, I am human.” She puffs out a breath. “And the Blue Line was having mechanical difficulties.”

Before she can say another word I take one step forward and rest my hand on her hip. “I’m not interested in ending anything between us. Besides, we still have a bet to finish.”

“Hmm, that’s what you think—” She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and a slight smile plays at the edge of her lips.

“Don’t even joke, Zombie Girl. Remember, I know where you live.”

She shakes her head and laughs. “You don’t know which apartment is mine.”

“I’m persistent when I need to be. I’d figure it out.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She stomps back over to the row of chairs and drops her jacket and bag, and unzips her boots before following me to the mats.

“You ready to get started?”

“This is the part where I’m supposed to say I was born ready?” she sasses.

My lips pull up with a smile. “Let’s play a game.”

“Okay ...”

“Trust me?” I raise one eyebrow.

“With that look? Hell, no.”

“Come on, Mia. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

“Ha! I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You’re getting really good at this. Remember the advanced moves we went over last week? I want you to try them again. Repetition is everything. Your body needs to remember how to act without your brain having to think about it. I’m going to come at you, just like we’ve done before, but this time with a little extra challenge. You block me or get out of my hold, and you win the round. I capture you in a hold, I win.”

“Sounds easy enough. What are we competing for?”

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