Chapter 1: Before You

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**AUTHORS NOTE**

Zena's point of view will always be first person where Xai'an's will be third.

I shall add disclaimers to chapters with the sexual themes so if you're not comfortable with it, you may skip ahead.

Again, this is my first Mature Content writing that I'm putting out there so I'm extremely nervous...

I'm currently working on drawing out images of both Xai'an and Zena so if this gets enough views/votes/follows I'll post them up in later chapters.

**END AUTHORS NOTE**

I stared up at the ceiling wondering when it had changed from the sun and stars. Faintly overhead I heard the faint chuckle of masculine laughter and suddenly my memory came back to me.

Blue eyes belonging to one of those handsome Nordic-type faces peered down at me with a smile plastered like the Cheshire Cat. "Did I throw you too hard?"

"You throw like a girl." I groaned with feeling as I slowly sat up. The room shook for a bit, but other than that, I was fine. I even managed to get to my feet without falling over. Point to me. Hurrah!

"I just knocked your ass out, hefer! Telling me I throw like a girl? Ha! You're cute!" Blondie was named Johnathan and he was actually my friend, believe it or not.

"Your mom seems to think so." I rolled my neck and hopped around, stretching out my arms to try to force myself back into the focus I had before.

Johnathan threw back his head and laughed, the prominent Adam's apple in his throat moving with the motion. "You're such a fucking freak, Zena! Ready to go down again?"

"I bet you don't hear that very often, do you, Johnny boy?" This from Logan. It earned a chorus of more laughter from the circle of men around us. Logan was older than most of the students in the dojo, but he learned infuriatingly quick. He was the type of person who could see a technique once or twice and master it. I had to be tossed around like a rag doll in order to learn. Fucker. Jealous? Who me? Naaaw.

As the only girl in the class, I knew I had to take my beatings with dignity if I wanted to play with the boys. No man wanted to spar with a woman who cried or got offended by being hurt. The whole point of me taking Aikido was because I wanted to defend myself against those who would try to hurt me anyway. How could I learn without getting used to reacting quickly after being knocked around if I didn't practice? Simple. I couldn't.

When I had been only 17 years old I was mugged. Not just robbed, but beaten senseless. To the point where I now had a metal plate holding my cheek together. The group of men had taken turns hitting me, kicking me. Laughing at me. The only relief was that they were far too drunk to get a hard on so I hadn't been raped. Though they tormented me with the knowledge that they wanted to but they would settle with the fact that I was going to die anyway. They left me there in the alley, hoping I'd die. Hell, I thought I was going to die.

Most people would have come out of that situation broken. Withered. Not me. I came out in a rage that was so beyond even Satan's capability. I wanted revenge. The bloody kind. I wanted to make sure that I never had to fear of being hurt like that again.

Less than three months after I recovered I set out researching the most prestigious martial arts dojo's in a 50 mile radius. It just so happened to be my luck that Aishwarya Aikido was 10 minutes down the road from my little apartment. I knew Aikido was meant to use attackers momentum against them. Perfect for someone my size. 5'4 and weighing a whopping 101lbs, I had been easy prey. I signed up and had been on a waiting list for nearly a year before they had openings for a new class. That had been nearly 6 years and 15lbs ago. I had gained weight in pure muscle due to the new activity in my life. Though my rage for revenge dampered (mostly because Sensei Aishwarya told me it had no place in his dojo), it was still there, seething under the surface and it helped me put more than one of my male classmates on their ass.

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