Break This! (A 300 Moons Book) (2 page)

T
hea Harlow was tired
of smiling.

The room around her was incredible. Thousands upon thousands of fairy lights illuminated the ceiling. Even the columns were wrapped in dark blue gauze and lit from within by tiny lights. Had it not been for the hundreds of reporters and oglers, Thea might have felt as if she were floating in the middle of a midsummer night sky.

As it was, she could hardly notice anything but the click of heels on the parquet floor, the fake laughter, and the flash of the cameras.

The first few events promoting the cover of the new
Sports Unlimited
swimsuit issue had been a dream come true - too exciting for Thea to notice how pat everything was: New York, Chicago, LA.

At this point, though, the newness had worn off. Besides, hanging out at some casino in Philly, even if it was the fancy, new Stackhouse, wasn’t exactly the same as 583 Park Avenue.

Another old guy in a suit came up and pressed a photo into her hands.

“In my day, all the women were built like you,” he proclaimed.

Thea highly doubted it, but there was no point arguing because he was speaking to her chest anyway, not her face.

“Who should I make it out to?” she asked.

He gave her his name and she signed quickly, squeezing his arm and making the flashbulbs go crazy at the photo op as she sent him away again.

Her hand actually hurt from signing so many things.

Her feet hurt from her ridiculous heels.

And most of all, her face hurt from the constant smiling.

But there were cameras everywhere, and heaven forbid one of them catch her looking like she wasn’t having the time of her life for a single second.

There was a lot of pressure on her, being the first plus-sized model on the cover.

Though the idea that she was considered plus-sized was a bit laughable. On paper her BMI was about average for an American woman and she worked out to stay in good health. But among models, especially cover-worthy “super” models, Thea was so different in build she might as well be from another planet.

Still, having Thea Harlow on the cover of the
Sports Unlimited
swimsuit edition was huge progress for anyone who believed a beautiful woman could be larger than a size two.

And she knew the press was more focused on her because of it. With all the positive buzz and feedback surrounding her cover, the best way to make news would be by tearing her down.

Though she had gotten into modeling for her own reasons, and never expected this level of success, Thea recognized that with this opportunity she now had a responsibility to be the face of plus-sized women in the industry.

So the heels stayed on. And the smile would stay plastered in place at all times.

A young guy smirked at her and walked on by, to get to one of the other models.

Thea held her smile in place and wondered absently if the hotel offered facial massages.

Sports Unlimited
had featured three cover variants this year. During the course of the photo shoots and promo tour, she and the two other models had become great friends.

Rude guy was headed straight for Brooklyn Cruz, the one who looked pretty much like every other model that had ever been on the cover. He snapped a selfie with her, then buried his face in his phone, no doubt posting on all his lame social media accounts about how he got a pic with the “hot one.”

Thea knew she shouldn’t. Using her power in public was a huge risk, but she couldn’t help herself. She reached out as he passed and let the tip of her finger barely make contact with his phone. There was a pop, and his screen went black.

He looked around angrily, but Thea only met him with another smile. He continued on, tapping at the dead phone in puzzlement.

Her smile didn’t feel so forced all of a sudden.

She glanced over at Brooklyn, already surrounded by the next crew of gawkers. Brooklyn noticed her, and rolled her eyes in Thea’s direction.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad. Thea had certainly done far worse to make a living. At least she had some friends here.

Brooklyn initially gave off the vibe that she didn’t think the other two girls were exactly cover-worthy. But she had warmed up pretty quickly. They’d shared some good times on the promotional tour.

Brooklyn had the large eyes and innocent expression of a startled fawn, but it turned out she liked to shoot tequila. She said it was because hard alcohol had fewer calories than wine and beer, but Thea suspected she just
liked
it. No matter the reason, she’d gotten blasted one of their first nights sharing a hotel suite and had the three of them laughing until Jade snorted wine spritzer out her nose from her impressions of the self-important photographers on their swimsuit shoot.

In fairness, Jade St. Vincent was usually laughing her head off. Thea had warmed up to her right away. Jade also had her share of detractors when it was announced that she was getting an SU cover, which was probably why they’d felt such an instant bond. Jade’s muscular physique, as the current ACL women’s MMA champ, didn’t exactly fit the standard swimsuit issue mold either. And while there was a #VoteWithYourWallet movement in the body positivity world supporting Thea’s cover, Jade had no such champions.

But right now at least, Jade looked like she was enjoying herself much more than Thea. Maybe because she hadn’t stopped flirting with the hot Italian photographer all night.

Odd. Thea had been under the impression that Jade was seeing someone - that fighter guy, Champ? No, his name was Chance. She’d seen him around a few times. Nice guy. Hot, too - if you were into that ‘rippling with so many muscles it seemed like he was chiseled from stone’ look. And he seemed really into Jade. Though in fairness, she never talked much about a boyfriend.

While Thea watched, her friend wrapped a tanned and muscular arm around the handsome photographer and fingered his silk tie with her free hand.

Nope. Definitely not the actions of a girl with a boyfriend. At least not one she wanted to keep.

F
or the first
time since the workout, Chance wasn’t worrying about his bear.

He had Jade’s hot little hand in his, and was half dragging her into her hotel room while she laughed like a hyena.

Jade was so much fun. She wasn’t as serious about the relationship as Chance was, but he was sure she would come around. All women loved Chance Harkness. For all he knew, she might even be playing hard to get to try and make him like her more.

It would never work though. Chance liked to know where he stood. He valued relationships over excitement, in spite of his career choice and lifestyle.

Besides, he was pretty sure she wasn’t playing games.

Jade hadn’t always been famous. Fame for female MMA fighters was a new idea and not universally celebrated.

Therefore, Chance figured Jade was brimming with wild energy now since she had never expected fame and had no idea when it would be snatched away. She would more than likely settle down as soon as she got used to being in the limelight.

Hopefully that would be soon.

But in any case, Chance had a secret weapon.

The aching sexual hunger that had plagued him since the beginning of this moon had only strengthened what he had long believed: his 300th moon meant that he was about to initiate a mating bond - a relationship that would stick.

And Chance wanted it to be with Jade.

She was the only person outside his foster family who understood him well, or at least a big part of him - she really knew what it was like to live the life of a fighter. Jade wouldn’t begrudge him the hours at the gym, the bruises, the diet, any of it. Chance exercised control in every facet of his life and Jade would only accentuate his commitment to their chosen lifestyle.

And she was tough enough not to be scared when he told her that he was a bear shifter. Hopefully.

Her toughness was one of the things he loved about her. He’d spent a lot of his time with women terrified that he would somehow injure them with the brute strength of his big body. But Jade was a tough little thing.

Yes, once they were bonded everything would be fine. He was sure of it.

And right now, he was going to eat her pussy until she was ready to marry him without the mating bond.

“… so Brooklyn was like, ‘
Oh, I don’t know, I’m not sure
,’ and then like two shots later…” Jade threw her head back and howled, unable to finish her story she was so overwhelmed by the hilarity of it.

Chance pushed her back on the bed, loving at the way she slammed her arms down in a breakfall, as if he had taken her down in a match. She grinned up at him with her pirate smile.

“Why, Mr. Harkness, I do declare,” she drawled in a terrible attempt at a Southern accent, and then blinked coquettishly, as if she were overwhelmed at his demanding behavior.

It would have been more effective if she hadn’t also been lifting her hips up so he could slide her miniskirt and panties off with a single tug.

She laughed again, and he looked down at her muscular thighs, and waxed mound. Her tangy scent reached for him with invisible hands.

Chance growled and nipped her right thigh.

“Hey,” she scolded, and angled her hips up impatiently.

“Patience, grasshopper,” he said firmly, looking into her eyes.

She settled down, but her eyes were still dancing with excitement.

He gripped her thighs tightly and nuzzled her.

She sighed, but managed not to wriggle. Good girl.

Chance extended his tongue and collected the drop of moisture escaping from the very bottom of her cleft, and carrying it up across her whole slit without penetrating.

Jade moaned. Her opening began to pout.

Chance licked her again, this time allowing his tongue to part her folds.

She hissed and he could feel the tension in her legs as she fought not to tilt her hips up to meet his mouth.

His own body responded instantly. Chance pressed his rigid cock against the mattress for a degree of relief.

“What do you want?” he asked her.

“You know what I want,” she whined.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice an octave lower than before.

“Please, make me come,” she begged.

Fuck, yes, that’s hot. Good girl.

Chance buried his face, lapping wildly, then licking and tugging frantically on her distended clit.

She froze for a moment, her thigh muscles tensed until they trembled. Then he felt her pulsing out her pleasure against his face, her clit a stiff little kernel on his tongue.

Before her tremors dissipated, she was laughing, delighted with her own orgasm, and totally unembarrassed.

Another thing he loved about her.

Chance, on the other hand, was raging with unsatisfied lust.

He began licking her again immediately, planning to get her worked up again so he could take her.

There was a buzz on the bedside table.

“Crap, hang on,” Jade said, grabbing for it.

Chance wasn’t going to hang on, he applied his tongue to her pussy again.

Above him, he could hear her fingers tapping the screen.

“Oh man,” she said, distractedly. “It’s about a sponsorship.”

He released his hold on her legs and she slithered away from him quickly, sitting up in a criss-cross applesauce position to tap furiously on her phone.

Damn. Chance was getting tired of competing with that bedazzled fucking smart phone. Frankly, it seemed like Jade was spending more time tapping Morse code into that thing that she spent training at the gym lately.

While he pondered matters, she shimmied back into her skirt and panties.

“I gotta go, but thanks for the stress relief, babe,” Jade said, tousling his hair on her way to the door.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Chance cursed softly, then got to his feet.

The hunger was eating at him, especially with that female scent and flavor on his lips.

He spotted a copy of the Sports Unlimited swimsuit edition on the dresser.

Oh, wow, this wasn’t Jade’s cover.

On the front, the curvy one smiled coolly, droplets of water glistening against her skin.

Whoa.

Chance grabbed the magazine off the bureau and paged through, past Brooklyn’s shoot, past Jade, to get to… what was her name?

Thea Harlow
- Evanston, IL

Thea gazed up at him, the picture of confidence, her mouthwatering curves filling her tiny bikini.

Chance released the aching beast from his shorts and began to stroke himself lightly. He felt like a teenager lately, needing to do this several times a day sometimes, just to take the edge off.

A smile played subtly along the corners of Thea’s lips. It was as if she could see him.

Chance studied her magnificent breasts, nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of the bikini.

When he looked back into her knowing brown eyes, he felt his whole body begin to tingle as he neared his release.

C
hance sat
at a table by himself in the main dining room of the Stackhouse Casino. The room smelled like authentic Italian pasta and little ladies’ flowery perfume in equal parts. It was like the place couldn’t decide how fancy it wanted to be. At a nearby table, a couple ate chicken fingers over linen tablecloths with vases of fresh wildflowers in the center.

All Chance knew was that he was glad the kitchen was willing to make the meal before him - four skinless chicken breasts and a garden salad the size of his head, although neither was on the menu. The double-chocolate cupcake next to his third glass of water was looking really good too.

Being a shifter gave Chance a break with his training diet. It seemed like the bear’s metabolism kept him big, but fairly lean. And his own workouts kept him cut.

But he didn’t push it with food. Some of the guys in his camp had real problems making weight. Of course it was easier when you were a heavyweight and had a fifty pound window, instead of the usual ten to twenty.

He took a big bite of chicken.

Oh wow. It was juicy and flavorful.

Sometimes places like this just baked the hell out of a plain piece of chicken in protest. Stackhouse was a class act.

He was just chewing his first bite and enjoying the anticipation of a full belly, when two well-dressed strangers approached.

He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he didn’t know them. Nonetheless their inevitable target was clearly his table.

They were an unusual looking pair - a gigantic blond guy with a beard and an eyepatch, and tiny woman in a pink suit that made her look like Jackie O.

Chance had an instantaneous dislike for the man. He carried himself in an overconfident way, and his scent was awful - like someone had spilled a bottle of Drakkar Noir on the floor of a slaughterhouse.

Chance wiped his mouth, and prepared to rise and greet the strangers politely, as he had been raised to do.

But they were already making themselves right at home.

“Mind if I join you, Mr. Harkness?” Pink suit lady asked in a suspiciously sugary voice.

The blond man was pulling out the chair for her already, and she lowered herself into her seat before he could answer.

Fuck being polite, then.

“I’m kinda busy,” Chance said, indicating his dinner.

Pink narrowed her eyes slightly, her lips stretching into a tight smile of displeasure.

“I think you’ll be very interested in what I have to say after you see this,” she said, her voice even higher and sweeter than before.

The big blond guy produced an envelope marked
Sharp Diagnostics
and placed it on the table.

Chance took a bite of his chicken.

He’d seen those envelopes before. All the fighters in the ACL had. Drug test results.

Chance had the same fleeting moment of terror he always did. Though he knew he was clean. Squeaky clean.

He never concerned himself with the drugs. Instead, Chance always worried that they might start using a different test. And if they did, what if something about his being a shifter threw up a red flag?

As far as he knew, his body chemistry was the same as any normal person’s. And Volker, the shifter doc in Tarker’s Hollow, told him he had nothing to worry about from a drug test.

But what else could be interesting about that envelope?

Chance resisted the urge to open it, and took another bite.

“My name is Miss Sharp, and this is my associate, Mr. Draven,” she said.

Sharp. Like on the envelope. No wonder she thought she was a big deal. He didn’t look up.

“Do you know what this is?” Miss Sharp asked extra sweetly.

“Yeah. But I don’t dope. So I don’t see why you’d think I’d be very interested in my test results,” Chance said through a mouthful of chicken. Maybe abject rudeness would get her to the point already.

“That’s very true. You would never need to resort to artificial means to enhance your performance, would you? Not when you’ve been gifted with such wonderful…natural talents,” she replied. Her words hung in the air between them.

Chance’s throat went dry. What was she trying to say? Did she know he was a shifter?

Chance needed a drink. He drained the rest of his water glass in one long gulp as she continued.

“But then, I never said they were your results, did I?” she asked.

Not mine?

“Your girlfriend, Miss St. Vincent,” Miss Sharp said, raising an eyebrow and inclining her head toward the envelope.

Chance felt his bear rear up protectively at the mere mention of Jade’s name.

Easy, boy.

“She’s a lovely girl. How is she handling all of the newfound attention that’s come with being the poster girl for women’s MMA?” Miss Sharp said, wrinkling her nose as she said MMA, as if the concept disgusted her.

“She’s fine,” Chance said.

“It must be hard for her to get in her usual training with all of those other responsibilities getting in the way,” Miss Sharp suggested. “She must feel a lot of pressure to stay at the top, with so many other women training so hard to usurp her position.”

“I guess. I don’t see what this has to do with me,” he replied.

“Do you know what Stanozolol is, Mr. Harkness?” she asked.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Good for you. It’s an anabolic steroid on the athletic commission’s banned substances list,” she explained. “And while you may not be familiar with it, I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Miss St. Vincent, judging by the level of metabolites for the substance my company detected in her most recent test.”

Miss Sharp made a sad face, but her voice was still chirpy.

Jesus. Jade.

He knew she’d been busy lately. But she would never… Would she?

“This test, in fact,” Sharp said, tapping the envelope.

“Why are you telling me this?” Chance asked.

“Because I have an offer for you.” The chirpy voice grew cooler. “A business proposition.”

Chance stared her down.

“Or maybe just an exchange of favors among friends?” she offered.

He continued to gaze coldly at her, wishing his eyes were laser beams.

“My organization has a vested interest in the outcome of your upcoming fight,” she said at last, her sugary voice gone dry. “In fact, we would like it very much if your opponent, Mr. Blanco, walks away with the victory this weekend.”

Chance reeled. She wanted him to throw a fight.

The
fight.

But Chance would never throw a fight.

His thoughts went to Jade. Her career would be ruined by a positive steroid test. The whole women’s division would suffer, too. Jade was great PR for them. She was also a role model for kids everywhere. They’d be crushed.

He could stop all that from happening.

He’d have to work his way up to another title shot. And he’d be a cheater. But wasn’t he already sort of cheating by being a shifter?

Miss Sharp was staring at him, tapping one cruelly long pink lacquered nail against the tablecloth.

“I’ll take that under consideration,” he said at last.

“That would be wise. Mr. Draven will be in attendance at the fight. I’ve no stomach for such barbaric contests myself. I look forward to his report,” Miss Sharp said, standing. “Good day, Mr. Harkness.”

Draven reached down to the table.

Chance figured he was reclaiming the envelope.

Instead Draven scooped up Chance’s cupcake, winked at Chance, and took a big bite as he walked away after Miss Sharp.

Now Chance really didn’t like that guy.