The Circle Ch 04 1

Fiona

"And remember, friends," Poppy called across the gymnasium the next Saturday, clapping her hands like a peppy cheerleader. "You want to use the base of your palm to really direct that force into the bottom of the nose." I watched, matching my motions with her as she gave an example strike into the air, her ponytail swinging and her face focused. She turned to me, and I dipped down to the ground, picking up one of the focus pads off the floor and holding it out in front of me. She made the motion again, this time making contact with the pad with the base of her palm. With a satisfied nod at me, she swiveled to face the group in front of us. "Your turn to spar with your partners, we'll be walking around to check in on you."

The room full of people paired up, most of them with one League member each, and started practicing the motion we demonstrated. Poppy started weaving her way through one side of the room, and I stepped forward to do the same, wiping the sweat from my forehead on the Lunar League Austin shirt sticking to my body. It was still cold and breezy outside, and the school we were using had overcompensated in heat. The gym was blistering, especially for a physical class.

I felt an arm loop through mine, and Beth smiled up at me from my side. Her white teeth glowed as she gave me a cheeky smile, her dirty blonde, blue-tipped hair tied back into a fishtail braid behind her, swishing as we walked.

"I think this is going well," she observed, nodding at Peter in front of us, who sparred with a middle-aged woman wearing a neon yellow sweatband over her forehead.

"Agreed."

"Have you talked to him yet?" I kept myself from pausing in my tracks, and instinctively felt my open hand clench into a fist.

"Not since you asked thirty minutes ago." Without really thinking about it, I looked over to the other side of the room. Gavin was sparring with a teenage girl, who looked like she was maybe 100 pounds dripping wet. He appeared determined to not push back too hard with the pads in his hands, for fear of knocking her backwards. Like he could sense I was looking, he glanced our direction, and, distracted, the teenager landed a surprisingly hard blow against his hand, and he stumbled backwards. I bit my lips to keep from laughing, breaking eye contact and continuing around the room with Beth.

We had barely spoken in a week. Not that we'd known each other long before that. But after the way things had ended at the apartment, I wasn't exactly pressing for conversation at the office.

If his issue during the first day we'd known each other had been keeping his facial expressions in check, my issue was the verbal diarrhea that seemed to spew at every chance. Because sleeping with his brother wasn't bad enough, I had to blurt it out after that intense, hungry kiss that left me tingling all over. It made my brain fuzzy - maybe that was the reason I'd chosen that exact moment to reveal one of my primary hesitations for even thinking about going near him.

When I said it, he instinctively took a step away from me, and I couldn't blame him, but it still hurt. I wasn't embarrassed by it. I wasn't scared to tell him. But it needed to be said, whether that kiss had happened or not.

"You - you what?" he stuttered, and then lifted his hands to his lips. I continued raking my hands through my hair, lifting it in a ball above my head. I was sweating.

"I slept with George," I clarified, now both mortified and sweltering. I fanned my face with my hands, noticing for the first time that my nails had elongated. I tried to retract them, along with the fur that had spiked on the back of my hand.

"You slept with my brother," he repeated, and I nodded. His eyes narrowed, and I couldn't read anything beyond the shock and - was that...disgust? "When?" he seethed. "How? What..."

"Literal years ago." I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled my jacket off, setting it next to my purse on the floor near the wall. "Is it hot in here to you?"

"No," he growled, but he tugged at the collar of his shirt. It wasn't just me. "Did you...date?" He seemed hesitant to know more, but based on the tone of his voice, I decided it was best to just let it all out.

"Fuck,

no

." I made a face, and pulled the copy of the lease out of my bag, using it as a makeshift fan. "It was before he was married to Lillian. God, that poor woman," I added, shivering at the thought. "I don't know how she puts up with him."

"You and me both," he breathed, taking off his own coat and setting it next to mine. He joined his hands behind his head, puffing out his cheeks and closing his eyes. When he opened them, they were bright again. "You slept with my brother." And I realized, rather suddenly, that he wasn't angry or disgusted. He was

jealous

.

"Yeah, and you just kissed me," I said with a smirk. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And you-" he stopped mid-sentence, and then looked back up at me. Before I knew what was happening, he had covered the space between us, his body pressing mine against the wall, one hand on my neck, the other above my head. The papers in my hand clattered to the floor. I was momentarily stunned, blinking, looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

Don't get me wrong. I'd been pushed up against the wall by a guy or two. Even a woman at one point. But none had used the force Gavin had to pin me, much less put their hand on me so flippantly.

And it made my core melt.

"George is a fucking idiot," he seethed, his forehead coming down to rest against mine. "To have had this, and let it go." Letting go of my neck, his hand moved down my side, grazing my breast and making his way down to my hip. He jerked me forward, against his pelvis, and I felt him twitch under his pants.

"It wasn't exactly his choice," I breathed, feeling a bead of sweat roll down my neck. "He started acting like a little bitch when he realized I wasn't a swooning damsel in distress." I closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply. I could smell the coffee downstairs, but even closer, mingled with the sweat now misting both of us, was something different. Him. A musky, woodsy scent, spicy at the same time. "They're all scared of me."

"For the record," I heard him respond, and his hand moved back up, coming to cup the side of my face. When his thumb traced across my lips, my eyes fluttered open, meeting his. "You don't scare me at all."

His words knocked the wind out of me. But in hearing my own sharp intake of breath, something clicked.

He didn't know me. I didn't know

him

. And yet, here I was, melting in his hands like putty, practically moaning against him.

"You don't know what you're talking about." I put my hands on his chest, still looking him in the eyes, and pushed him away gently. Sidestepping and bending down to get my purse, I threw my jacket over my arm. He was still standing in the same spot, one hand on the wall. Slowly, he turned his head to look at me. "We barely know each other. I am your Alpha. I don't even know how you ended up here, much less why you think you can see deep into my soul or some shit." I gestured up and down to his fit frame. "This whole brooding, second-son-trying-to-assert-his-dominance thing is hot, don't get me wrong." He straightened up, crossing his arms and opening his mouth to interrupt. "But you've been here a day. I don't make a habit of fucking new members before they've even pledged."

"I know what I want," he said firmly, and I couldn't help the cackle that fell out of my mouth. It was nearly maniacal. Between the heat still rising in my body, and the frustration of the conversation, I was losing patience.

"Lightwell, you don't even know what you have. You don't know what you've walked into." I bent down, picking up the stack of papers from the floor. "The Circle is on the precipice of making a name for itself, of making real, positive change, and the last thing I need is to get involved with someone who comes from a family of traditionalists with a brother hell-bent on seeing the Circle and I fail." I flopped the stack of papers on the counter, and pulled the ring of keys out of my bag, un-looping one of the duplicates for the apartment we were standing in while I talked. "I'll make sure you get a digital lease agreement for three months, if that sounds ok, just get it back to us by Monday so we can get everything processed." I put the key on top of the papers, and hiked my tote onto my shoulders, stepping towards the door.

When I looked over my shoulder, he was standing, one hand on his hip, the other in his hair, his face twisting in what looked like confusion and frustration.

"See if you can handle the way we run things, before you think you can handle me. Either way," I opened the door, "the apartment is yours until you can find somewhere else to land." He looked like he was going to try to talk again before I closed the door behind me, but I didn't give him a chance. I didn't stop moving until I pushed out of the back door, the cold air hitting me like a freight train, instantly flooded with relief as my body cooled.

The physical reaction my body had to his touch was making me anxious. It felt like I was being melted on a stovetop, a giant wave of heat hitting me over and over again. And I needed it to stop.

"I can talk to him this afternoon, if you want," Beth offered, breaking me out of the thoughts swirling in my head. I looked down at her, confused. "Remember, I told you, he asked me to come over and help him figure out a plan for the apartment?"

"Right," I muttered, having completely forgotten about this conversation. He had, in fact, signed the lease and sent all of the other Circle related paperwork back by the previous Sunday night, and I overheard him telling Oscar that he needed to meet a cleaning company on Tuesday. Other than a few brief interactions in the shared office space, I was steering clear of our newest member. Not that he hadn't tried - but I managed to get in after him and leave before him every day to avoid letting my desires get the best of me. "It's ok, B, I mean, what are you gonna say? Sorry, Fiona is an indecisive bitch?" Beth snorted next to me.

Poppy called everyone back to attention, and Beth and I made our way back up to the front.

"That was great, everyone," Poppy called cheerily, clapping her hands again. "We're going to wrap up soon," she said, and there were a few "boo!" calls from the crowd. She laughed. Her class had gone well. "But before we go, I thought maybe we could have a demonstration of some of these techniques, as well as a few others, in action."

I felt my chest heave as she gave me a pointed look, and I separated from Beth. She was

not

about to do what I thought she was going to do.

"Fiona, our esteemed Lunar League Austin president, is going to participate, with..." she feigned thought, tapping her chin with one finger, looking around the room. Then, her eyes narrowed and she held her hand over her head, pointing to the back. "New League member, Gavin." There was a smattering of applause as Gavin, shocked, made his way up to the front. So he didn't like attention?

My nostrils flared, and I threw a glare at Poppy before straightening up and turning to face Gavin, who had stopped in front of me, his side facing the room. He was in what looked like an old football tee shirt, with the sleeves and sides cut out, and a pair of mesh athletic shorts.

I'm going to murder you in your sleep, Poppy,

I seethed through my link to her, and I heard a giggle behind me. Gavin squared up, his arms raised, and while he'd been startled a moment before, his eyes glinted mischievously now, a grin on his face.

"Don't want to fight me?" he asked quietly, and I raised my eyebrows, my arms leveling with my chest.

"Don't overestimate yourself, Lightwell," I said, only loud enough for him to hear. "You forget, I'm an Alpha."

"Start any time, guys," Poppy chimed in, and I threw her a glance over my shoulder.

"I could never forget that," Gavin breathed, and moved to grab the side of my head. Instinctually, I batted his arm away, hard, with my balled fist and stepped back. He tried it again on the other side, and I shot my hand forward, stopping millimeters from the underside of his nose. There were a few gasps from around the room.

Jokingly, Gavin made to grab his face, stepping backwards, acting the part of a stunned assailant. I stepped closer, and lifted my knee, pretending to hit him square between the legs. He doubled over in fake pain, and I turned to run.

Then, I felt hands wrap around my waist. Instantly, my body reacted, my face flushing and breath quickening. Gavin pulled me tight against his body, squeezing my stomach and walking backwards as I flailed - half pretending, half wanting to get away from him.

There was a crunch as the back of my head met his nose, and I gasped. I hadn't meant to do that. I expected him to drop me, to step away, but he continued to pretend, so I did too, trying to finish our demonstration.

If he wanted to put on a show, I'd put on a damn show.

He was still momentarily stunned, his arms tight around me, so I tipped my body forward, causing him to lose balance. He lost his grip and I dead-weighted, like we'd taught the class, falling through his arms and onto the ground. His hands moved up to grab his face, where I could see, just over my shoulder, that blood was flowing freely above his lip. Crouched on the ground, I used my momentum to spin, one leg out, knocking him to the ground with a loud thud. Before he could catch his bearings, I climbed on top of him, my forearm on his throat. Heat resonated through my arm.

"Truce, truce," he stammered, his lips red with blood and his eyes narrowed in pain. His words hit something in me, and I released his neck, standing up quickly.

"Well," Poppy said, "that's not exactly what I had in mind." She was hiding a snicker in her voice. "But you all get the picture. Even the strongest can be overpowered with the right technique."

Gavin

As soon as Poppy closed the class, I hustled to the bathroom to assess the damage to my face. It really wasn't bad - the quick healing had already started, and once I was able to get most of the blood out of the hair under my nose, I looked mostly normal. I gripped the edges of the worn, porcelain sink and stared at myself in the mirror.

Fiona was strong. Not just strong for a woman, or even strong for a female wolf. She was Alpha strong. I had been expecting a fight, but not what she gave, and somehow, it made me so much more intrigued.

Seeing her at work all week had been torturous. All I'd wanted to do after she left the apartment the weekend before was chase her down and apologize, tell her I meant nothing by the kiss or my comments, and try to start things off on a different foot. But that really wasn't what I wanted.

The intense heat I'd felt when we touched was incredible, like stepping foot inside her house that day, the fire blazing, after being out in the cold, but so much more intense. She had kissed me back - so it wasn't like she didn't feel it too. And I had felt it everywhere. At first I was sure it was just my body's reaction to having a woman like her pressed up against me - but the longer it lasted, and the closer I had her against that wall after, the more I felt like it was something else.

Surely, though, this couldn't be healthy. Having known someone for a day and throwing away all intentions of lying low in favor of literally macking on the Alpha?

By the time I made it back out to the gym, it was mostly cleared. Beth was waiting for me at the main doorway, leaning against the double-wide frame, putting a piece of gum in her mouth and grinning at me.

"She's already gone, honey," she said in a singsong voice. Fuck. She saw me looking around for Fiona.

"Figures," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand and making my way to the bleachers where my duffel bag sat. Beth pressed off the door frame, following. "You still planning on coming to take a look at the apartment?"

"Sure thing." She dug in her purse for her keys. Beth had picked me up on the way to the class - which I'd agreed to help at

mostly

out of a desire to potentially catch Fiona without Carter glued to her side - so she could come back after and tell me what the hell to do with the 1970s shitshow that was my new apartment.

We made it back to the building twenty minutes later, driving mostly in silence with a satellite talk show playing. Something in her serene expression told me she was marveling at the opportunity to listen to what she wanted, rather than kid's radio, so I didn't protest when they started discussing Taylor Swift's latest album drama.

Emerging from the elevator after grabbing coffee downstairs, we made our way into the space, and I heard her soft intake of breath as she crossed the threshold.

Ok, it wasn't great. But it wasn't horrible either. Most of my furniture had been re-assembled or placed where it needed to be, with the exception of the items still in a storage pod, having downsized from a house to this studio. What little decor I had sat lazily against the brick wall, waiting to be hung. The kitchen counter was littered with takeout boxes and beer cans. There was a laundry basket in the corner piling with dirty socks and workout clothes from my morning runs.

"Yikes on a bike, dude." She set her purse down on the counter and walked in further, picking up a beer can from the counter and then haphazardly dropping it into the wastebasket. "What a place for a first kiss." My eyes narrowed instinctually, and I felt my fists clench. I hadn't been expecting Fiona to tell her friends about the kiss - maybe, purely out of confusion about how it had ended, but also because it meant admitting she had kissed me in the first place, which didn't seem like something she'd want to do. "Jesus, no need to go full-shift on me," she said with a laugh, and then plopped down on one of the padded black leather barstools near her. "It was just a joke."

"A joke, yeah," I said roughly, and moved to grab the book of paint swatches I'd picked up at the hardware store on my way home the day before, eager to change subjects.

"Easy, Lightwell." She grinned again, and leaned forward onto the counter, her head in her hands, elbows supporting her weight. "So, tell me, was it as good for you as it was for her?" I stopped, mid-step, felt my eyes go wide in shock. She had told her friends it was good? "Ha!" Beth called, lifting her hands in a celebratory cheer above her head and swiveling on her hips. "I knew it."

"What did she tell you?" I asked, finally collapsing into the seat facing her in resignation. I didn't know Beth - the most I'd spoken to her was the text conversation earlier in the week to ask her for her help - but she had this maternal nature to her personality that, in a lot of ways, reminded me of my sister, Gianna.

Gianna was one of the few people who could really get through to George or I. In our many fights growing up, if our mother wasn't around to tell us off, Gianna was. She was the youngest, but in many ways, the most mature, and motherhood had made her even more so in recent years.

"Not much," Beth admitted, shrugging. "She was being super cagey at dinner that first day you were at work, and then after Saturday it was like someone lit a fire under her ass. Any time someone brought you up - group text, mind link - she couldn't change topics fast enough." She sighed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Poppy had to pry it out of her with the threat of unearthing photos from Cabo 2017." I could tell my eyebrows had knit together, because she pressed on. "Trust me, they're not pretty."

"It wasn't really anything," I said with a sigh, leaning back as well and taking a sip of the coffee in front of me. Damn, that was good.