Page 1 of Saving Stella

Prologue

Las Vegas, Nevada

Six years ago…

Just breathe.

Right before his first professional MMA fight, Cliff Forrest had been so nervous that he nearly passed out. The nerves, combined with the glare of the hot lights, the roar of the crowd, and the anticipation building inside him made him forget to inhale life-giving oxygen. Thankfully, his father had been beside him that moment and said those two words to Cliff.

Just breathe, son, Connor Forrest had said as he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

That had been seven years ago, the very first time he stepped into the cage at the age of nineteen. He’d been doing martial arts most of his life, starting with judo lessons at the age of seven, then karate at nine, and Brazilian jiu-jitsu when he turned ten. Of course, it wasn’t until he was twelve that his love of fighting snapped into place.

Puberty was the time when Lycans like him began to manifest their inner wolves. During this period, all Lycans had to undergo training to control their animals. Cliff wasn’t quite sure why—perhaps it was the discipline and determination he learned when he was exposed to martial arts—but everything about being a Lycan came naturally to him. In the first week of training, he was already shifting into his Lycan form at will and tangling with adult wolves twice his size. It was as if his inner animal came to him fully formed, aware of what they were—an unstoppable fighting machine.

His Uncle Jackson, who ran the training camp at his ranch in West Virginia, was the first to notice this and told Cliff’s father about his potential. Initially, Connor had been reluctant to continue his training, but Uncle Jackson had convinced him to let Cliff learn to use his gifts.

A few years later when Cliff wanted to go pro, he turned to both of them for advice. Obviously, as a Lycan, he would have the advantage over his human opponents—he was stronger, faster, and he could heal quicker. People might start to notice if Cliff won too many fights or if his wounds disappeared too quickly.

And so, Cliff and Connor had helped him find a way to reverse his training—to hold back his wolf temporarily during a fight. Sure, Cliff felt more exhausted, and yes, he did lose a few fights, but his natural skill, plus his towering height and bulk, had him quickly rising through the ranks of the professionals. The accelerated healing he couldn’t do anything about, but it was nothing a bit of makeup and staying away from public for a few days couldn’t fix.

And now, seven years after that first fight, here he was, defending the Federation of MMA Championship belt. He’d held it for two years now and was about to go into another championship fight of his career. The record in the league was over five years, and Cliff planned to beat that by at least one year before he retired. It was a promise he made to his uncle and father, as they didn’t want any undue attention on him and their kind, which might compromise their secret. For hundreds of years, humans had been blissfully unaware that creatures who could turn into giant wolves walked among them, and this secret kept them safe. Cliff wasn’t going to risk the lives of his family and his clan just because he wanted to brawl in the cage for fame and fortune.

Just breathe, he repeated like a mantra. Breathe.

Grabbing the wraps from his gym bag, he began to wind them around his hands. He had about thirty minutes before he was due to make his way to the cage, and his team—including his coach, assistants, and manager—left him alone. Athletes could be peculiar about their pre-game rituals, so they knew he needed these last few moments to himself. While he did use this time to prepare mentally for the fight, he also used it to put his wolf away. He visualized himself kneeling down and gently patting his wolf’s head.

That’s it, he said soothingly to his animal. Just take a nap. You can wake up later.

The wolf obediently closed its eyes.

Certainly, this wasn’t the biggest fight of Cliff’s career, but the promoters had built up so much hype around it that the bets were going through the roof. Physically, he and his opponent—George Alvarez—were evenly matched, though Cliff had more experience so the odds were still in his favor. Alvarez was an upstart and a few years younger than him, brash and confident, but from what he had seen from his fights, still green and raw. Alvarez made many mistakes amateurs made, so it would be quite a dramatic defeat if Cliff lost.

Not that he was planning to lose.

After finishing his wraps, he grabbed his phone from the locker and unlocked the device, his thumb immediately tapping on the message icon to send his fiancée, Madelyn a text.

Hey babe, where are you?

I thought you were coming by to give me a good luck kiss?

He frowned as seconds passed without a reply. There wasn’t even the familiar three dots appearing on the screen indicating Madelyn was typing back.

Huh.

As an influencer/model, Madelyn was glued to her phone twenty-four seven, and she always replied to his messages right away. The last message she had sent him was from three hours ago—a photo from the balcony of their suite, overlooking the glittering lights of The Strip. She was wearing one of those sexy wrap dresses that clung to her every curve and skimmed over her flat stomach while showing off her long legs.

Though they’d only met a year ago, Cliff was sure she was the one. Initially, he’d asked her out because she was stunning, but also, she had hundreds of thousands of followers on her social media accounts, which would boost his own profile. Like him, she had ambition and worked hard to achieve her goals, never letting anything stand in her way. While already a social media success, she had her eye on starring in her own reality show. They were making headlines wherever they went, at least here in Vegas. Combined, they had followers in the millions, and the count skyrocketed when Cliff popped the question a month ago.

He’d had a lot of casual flings and one-night stands over the years, but in Madelyn, he found an equal. Their relationship was more than just a business decision. Madelyn was truly a knockout in every way, and in her, Cliff found his match—not just in public, but also in private, as she was the one person who could match his sexual appetites and needs—even the darker ones he couldn’t reveal to his casual partners for fear of scaring them away. Madelyn made him want her in ways he never even knew he could want a woman.

Irritation poked at him as she failed to answer his texts. He dialed her number, but the call was immediately dropped.

Maybe her battery ran out.

She had been complaining that her phone’s charge drained quickly these days and had been hinting that she’d like him to buy her a new one. Well, if tonight’s bout turned his way, he could certainly afford to buy her a hundred new phones.

He glanced at the clock over the door—fifteen minutes to go. He couldn’t wait for her any longer. He had a championship belt to defend.