The first time I ever punched somebody, I was twelve years old. I overheard another kid in my class boasting about the fact that he bet he could get Aria to kiss him at the Spring Formal. Even though he was taking her as his date, it still enraged me that it was just a game to him and that he thought it was okay to disrespect my sister. I walked right up to him but he didn't notice because he had his back to me. It took a while for the dumbass to realize his friends had gone mute and were white in the face as they watched me loom behind him. I may have been a preteen but I was big for my age even then. When the guy turned around, he had all of one second to process my fist flying torward his wide eyes before my knuckles met his cornea. He had a black eye for weeks and wouldn't even look in Aria's direction for the rest of the school year.

To this day Aria thinks I purposely sabotaged her date because I was being overprotective and refused to speak to me for days at the time. I was fine with that as long as she never found out what that fucker said behind her back. I just didn't want to see her hurt.

The principle spoke with me about the consequences of my actions and gave me the easy way out — helping out in his office for a month — as long as I agreed to join the school's boxing team. He was impressed with my strength and seemingly natural talent for the sport and decided something good should come out of it. He made a good call because I grew in love with everything about it. It taught me the patience, temper management, and focus that I apply to everything else in my life. I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't box. It centres me and keeps me level-headed so that I don't lash out from the constant anger brewing inside of me. I may be a calm guy on the outside but on the inside there's a fucking storm that hasn't gone away for years. As much as I love my job and the good that it does, I've seen some fucked up things that are as bad as Aria's situation or even worse and it makes me want to lose my fucking mind. Luckily, a trip to the gym is the perfect remedy for that.

That's how I find myself at Fighter's Den at the crack ass of dawn and stretching to warm up my muscles. My life has been a blur lately and I need some release. Only fighting and fucking can give me that and since I'm not in the mood for the latter, I'm going to train instead. I laugh to myself as I grab a skipping rope from the storage room so I can start on warm-up exercises.

Never did I think there would be a time where I wasn't in the mood for a good lay. I absolutely love women and fucking them is high on the list of my favourite things about them. There's nothing more satisfying than bringing a woman to the brink of pleasure using your fingers, your tongue, and your cock. Pounding into their snug warmth until they're writhing underneath you and begging for mercy while they scream your name is every man's primal need. It's sure as hell mine and I'm fucking amazing at it because I believe that a woman's pleasure outweighs a man's pleasure. It's easier for guys to find release so it's only fair that they focus on making sure their woman reaches climax before they do. Foreplay is everything and the only thing I love more than fucking is torturing myself with my hands and face between a woman's legs until I'm rock hard and sweating up a storm. It's the best kind of frustration.

And these days, there's only one woman I want to experience that frustration with.

My mind unwillingly travels back to this morning when I woke up with a major tent in my boxers. Just moments before that I'd been dreaming about running my hands over smooth pale skin, starting from slim hips and gliding up into wild blonde hair. Delilah was riding me with her head thrown back in ecstasy while I lifted my hips and slammed into her. Her small but perky tits bounced with every thrust and teased me, begged me, to lean forward and take one deliciously stiff and dusty rose nipple into my mouth. Her soft gasp was music to my ears and the even quieter moan that followed threatened to have me blowing my load before I was ready. I had to slow down my pace and Delilah compensated by circling her hips and grinding against my cock until I was groaning her name in lust-filled misery. She whispered my name sweetly in my ear and that's what made me snap. Hearing my Angel say my name in that delicate voice of hers had enough power over me to bring me to my knees and I pounded into her as I finished. She was right there with me and gripped my shoulders tightly as her pussy squeezed my dick over and over until I saw stars.

Then I woke up. And I was not impressed with the dark stain on the front of my boxers. I hadn't had wet dreams since I was a teenager and somehow that's what I succumbed to, that too over a woman who's completely forbidden to me and has no idea how crazy I am about her. She doesn't even feel the same way. When the hell did I become this guy?

I look down at my semi with a scowl and quickly adjust myself, thinking of every turn-off in the book until I'm soft again and ready to start training. I need to get Delilah off my mind or I'm going to go insane. I can't think of a better or more effective way to do that than to throw vigorous punches until all I can think about is how much my muscles hurt and how hard it is to breathe. God, I need that.

I start with suicide drills. I need to get my heart rate pumping and my adrenaline coursing. I need to be riled up so I can channel all my good and bad energy into one place and redirect it to where I want. Running back and forth from one end of the gym to another for about ten minutes does exactly that. Then I move on to burpees and do three sets of twenty. I go back to doing suicide drills and then bring it around to three more reps of burpees. Once I've covered that, I add one hundred push-ups and sit-ups to the mix and when my entire body feels like it's on fire, I know I'm ready.

I place myself in front of the punching bag once I've covered my hands in boxing wraps. I use the meditation exercises I learned from my high school boxing Coach to focus all my energy into my fists. I push out every thought in my head until it's blank and the only thing I give a damn about is how accurate my punches are going to be. My hands practically shake with anxiousness to get started and I open my eyes, locking them on to the punching bag and envisioning every last piece of shit I've had to deal with. As always, my first victim is Robbie. Getting my hands on him the day I hospitalized him wasn't nearly enough to satisfy me. There's so much more damage I wanted to inflict on him. I wanted the fucker dead. And although I couldn't do that to myself or my family, it doesn't mean I don't envision it for my own self-satisfaction.

My arms strike out faster than my mind can keep up. Three jabs hit the punching bag with rapid succession and perfect precision followed by an uppercut that sends it swinging away. I let it sway back towards me before I deliver a left hook that has it spiraling out of control. I circle the bag and my arm shoots out in a straight punch, and then another, and then another. I punch the same spot on the bag over and over and imagine it's Robbie's face. I don't want to recognize it when I'm through. Every so often I dip my hand in a hook or uppercut and envision Robbie's gut as I knock the wind out of him or hit him hard enough that tendrils is blood gurgle out. Unexpectedly, my mind flips the image from Robbie to Chris and I'm taken back that I feel even more rage when I imagine that asshole. But I don't question it because the fury urges me on and my punches come in swifter, faster, and harder. I don't stop until he's a goddamn pile of broken limbs and nothing more. God, I wish I could get my hands on that cocksucker. I'd beat his soul right out of him and then some.

"Damn, what did that bag ever do to you?"

My punches stop abruptly when Cameron saunters inside the gym, his workout bag slung onto his shoulder. I'm about to ask him why he's at the gym so early but then I glance at my watch and realize I've been at it for two and a half hours now. Time really does fly when you're busy beating the shit out of people, even if it's in your head.

"That punching bag is not a punching bag." I explain, walking over to my equipment so I can snag my water bottle and take a drink. "That punching bag is every fucker that deserves a good hit or two to keep them in check."

"You're a scary guy, Nate." Cameron says cheerily. I swear the guy's a total goon. "Hope you've never imagined me in the punching bag's place."

"Maybe I have."

"So you admit it. You dream about me."

"Man." I groan and shove him away when he leans into me flirtatiously. Cameron is one of the funniest guys I know and I'm never not laughing when I'm around him but he has zero filter.

"It's okay. I know how you really feel." He smacks my ass and walks away like nothing happened, leaving me gaping at him. I've never met anyone like the dickhead, that's for sure.

"You here to train with Coach?" I ask as I replace my wraps. The other ones are drenched in sweat and blood spotting, telling me that I've done a killer job. That's the shit I love to see.

"Yup. Got another match next month. What about you? How's the training for pros going?"

"If I thought Coach was ruthless before..." I trail off so Cameron can fill in the blanks and he laughs in understanding.

"Trust me. I've gone home feeling like my arms weigh ten ton each on more than one occasion. I think Avery has drawn up more ice baths for me these past two months than I've ever taken in my life."

"That woman is too good for you."

"Don't I know it?" He grins and his eyes light up the way they often do when he talks about his girl. He's fucking smitten with her and tells the whole damn world about it. Something tightens in my chest and I brush it off before I try to figure out what it is.

"I'll get my sisters to do all that labour work for me." I chuckle, thinking of the kiddos.

"You see them often?" Cameron asks with obvious curiosity. He's been on my case ever since he found out I had five of them. For whatever reason he thought I was hiding the fact but the truth is I've just learned to keep my business my own unless I have to talk about it. Plus, some would say I'm a bit of an overprotective brother. Just a bit.

"They don't live far; just a forty-five minute drive away. I visit them every weekend."

"No wonder I never see you around. You should bring them by here sometime."

"Maybe." I bristle. I can't help it. Cameron notices though and cuts me a dry look.

"Oh come on, Neuter. I just mean that your family wants to get to know your family. You know we're good company."

"Yeah, I know." I relent. "Actually, the eldest of the kiddos—Lexie—just turned eighteen and she's been begging me to finally take her to an Aria location. I know she's old enough now but I've been hesitating because I can't keep her in my sight and run the club. Maybe I'll bring her when you guys are around so you can watch her."

"Oh, yeah. She'll be thrilled to officially meet us as her babysitters."

"Too bad. It's either that or she can stay at home where I want her."

"Bless their souls for growing up with you." He snickers and I shove him again. "But fine. If you say so. She can't get any safer than being surrounded by a group of professional boxers."

"Damn straight." I agree and feel a little less panicked about my baby sitter hanging around a club.

"Wanna spar?" He winks. "If you're ready to fight a pro, that is."

I blink innocently. "I don't see any here."

He bursts out laughing. "Now you're asking for it."

"Bet your ass, West."

***

"Hey, bro." Aria grins at me through the screen on our FaceTime call.

"Hey, sis." I nod in approval. "You look good."

And she does. She's been doing well for years now but there's a still small part of me that expects to see the Aria that lost herself every time we talk. She's gained all her healthy weight back and exudes determination. Becoming a lawyer has given her a level of confidence I've never seen in her. She's damn passionate about her job, too. Every day she takes the stand as a defence attorney for women who are too afraid to speak up themselves. I guess in some ways we both became professional fighters.

"I know, right?" She flips her long hair over one shoulder. "Hard to believe you're my twin with a face like that."

"Brat." I roll my eyes. "How's work?"

"Amazing. I can't believe some of the things these women have went through, Nate. And I can't believe how many of these cases go unnoticed or completely manipulated. If the justice system were a person I would cut that piece of shit's balls off, put them in a jar, and give it to their mother as a birthday present."

"That's graphic."

"I'm serious. I love my job but the things I see...it's so depressing."

"You okay with that?" I ask, growing serious. "I'm sure dealing with these cases takes you back and that would bother anybody. Be honest, Ria. You're allowed to admit this bugs you."

"It does." She agrees quietly. The fact that she doesn't put up a fight or tries to hide her feeling is proof of how much she's grown. "And sometimes my head goes to a dark place, Nate. I have to remind myself that I'm not that same helpless and vulnerable girl again. But I always get myself out of it and that's what counts. I can go back over and over again but that's not what matters, you know? What matters is that I always come back."

"I'm proud of you, sis." I speak past the gravel in my throat. It amazes me how strong she is and what she's overcome. She's a hell of a lot stronger than me, that's for fucking sure. "I love you. In case you forgot."

"No chance of that." She laughs and then fans her face with her hands. "Okay. Cut it out before I start crying. I'm a bad bitch, not a sad bitch."

I raise a brow at that. Girls are fucking weird.

"How's the trainings for pros going?"

"It's fucking tough. Coach is kicking my ass six ways to Sunday."

"I think him and I would get along great."

"Smartass."

"How's Ash?"

"The usual. You should FaceTime him more often. He's always bitching about seeing your face three times a year max."

"He's lucky he even gets the three." She snorts. "Besides, I'm too busy with work and he's too busy having sex with everyone female."

"That's true." I relent. Asher is as manwhore as they get.

"You could use some action too, bro. You've been sulking lately."

Her observation makes me scowl. "Have not."

"You see? You just did it again. Who's up your ass?"

"No one." I say quickly. Too quickly.

Aria leans forward with a perplexed expression and I shift uncomfortable as she silently searches my face. I do my best to remain impassive as possible but she's always been able to read me with ease. When she finds what she's looking for, she bursts out laughing and smacks the table so hard her phone falls over and leaves me staring at a black screen. Nice.

"Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God." I hear her chanting as she situates her phone back in place and when she appears on the screen again, she's wiping tears out of her eyes. "Dare I say my untameable brother has been tamed? I could kick your ass for hiding this from me."

"He has done nothing of the sort." I swear my eye twitches. I love my sister but no one can get on your nerves like a sibling can. They trigger anger levels in you that you didn't know existed.

"Nathan Hunter, you like someone. And she doesn't like you back." She composes herself for all of two seconds before toppling over in giggles again. I'm this close to licking my finger and sticking it in her ear. "I didn't think you'd ever have that problem, Casanova. I love her already. When can I meet her? We have so many things to talk about; like how much we don't like you."

Her joke has her cracking up for the third time and I smack a hand over my face. Why are sisters so goddamn irritating?

"Okay, I get it. Shut up." I bark so that she can hear me over her obnoxious laughter. I didn't want it to come down to this but it's the only way I know I can get her to be quiet. "I can't have her because she's pregnant. With someone else's baby."

Yup. That does the trick.

Aria pauses mid-laugh and for a second she stares at me in mild confusion, like she's trying to process what I just said. I see the exact moment it hits her because her expression morphs into total bewilderment and she leans back into her seat, getting serious.

"Dude." She shakes her head slowly. "That's not fucking cool."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Nathan...of all the people you could have...she's pregnant."

"Again, thank you Sherlock."

"What the hell are you thinking?"

"I didn't do this on purpose." I hope the full extent of my glare reaches her across the screen. "I liked her long before she got pregnant. I liked her before she even started seeing anybody but I didn't do a damn thing about it because...because I didn't think I was good enough for her. You should see her, Ria. She's incredible. She's been through so much shit but you would never guess it because of her gentleness. She wouldn't hurt a fly. Everything about her is soft and sweet and kind. She's like everything good in the world wrapped into one human being. And she's outrageously gorgeous but she doesn't see herself that way. I see her, though. I see all of her."

I'd been staring off absentmindedly as I spoke but when complete silence greets me I snap out of it and look back to my phone. I don't think I've ever seen Aria look so shocked in my life. Her mouth is hanging open and she doesn't blink for so long I swear my eyes start hurting. "Wanna say something, creep?"

"Who are you?"

"What?"

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" She places a hand on her chest and shakes her head again. "My God, Nate. I don't think I've ever heard you speak this way about anyone. It's surprisingly endearing. She must be really special."

"One of a kind." I agree and offer a wry smile. "But not the one for me, I guess."

Aria's eyes turn sympathetic and full of understanding. I didn't have to say much but I know she gets me. Only she could. "I'm sorry, bro. Now that I know how you feel about her I wish things could work out. Do you personally know the father?"

"No and thank fuck for that because if I did, I might be in jail for murder."

"Woah." She holds up her hand. "Back it up, buttercup. Who are we killing and why?"

I have to laugh at that. Only my twin would blindly have my back like that. But I grow somber once again when I explain. "He left her, Aria. He had someone as perfect as her and he left. And he was her first everything, by the way. Trust me when I say Delilah is as innocent as they come and she was done so bad. I hate that the best people go through the worst shit."

"Amen to that." She mumbles but smiles softly. "That's a very pretty name. And for what it's worth, I can do the whole ball-cutting, jar-gifting number on him instead. I'd be happy to."

"I know you would and you fucking rock for it."