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“I haven’t thought about the conference,” I admit, stopping to scratch the back of my neck. Has it already been a year since this feud started between the packs?
“Well, you better start thinking about it. It’s only a couple weeks away.” Having delivered that shot across my bow, Joseph walks ahead, bending to pick up some boxing gloves and joins a group sparring in the corner.
The rowdy banter of the warriors preparing to work out has already started. Normally, this would be my time to catch up with Cooper, Rex, and Nathan; it feels bittersweet to train with another pack. My wolf needs it but is also reluctant, like he’s cheating on his pack by enjoying anything about being here.
The groups seem to be divided up by skill level., so I decide to shake the trees and see what falls out. Ambling over to the biggest and baddest looking warriors, I play-up my laid-back attitude and less bulky physique. As expected, the group, all of whom look mean as hell and tough as nails, immediately bristle at my presence. All conversation ceases.
“Just carry on like you normally would, pretend I’m not even here,” I comment, enjoying their irritated expressions. “I just want to observe how you do things. See what I might need to change.”
Everything about this facility is state of the art, from the floodlights to the covered bleachers. The shower block is so luxurious it looks like it belongs to a professional sports team, not a small pack in the mountains. Given that only a small portion of the pack will ever use these facilities, it seems excessive, and, quite frankly selfish. I keep that opinion to myself, though. Just the suggestion that I might tinker with how they do things is enough to have these guys all riled-up, and I can feel the glares coming at me from all angles.
I ignore the pissed-off vibes and start stretching, throwing in some yoga poses that Leah taught me just to really wind them up.
“Look at this shit,” one of them mutters, shaking his head in disgust. “Who does he think he is? We’re here to fight, not do fucking ballet.”
Hiding my smile, I can almost feel their false sense of security. Sniggers and chuckles follow, and it’s enough to wake my wolf from his wallowing. Ignoring what their animals must know to be true, that I’m the highest-ranking wolf here, they choose to focus on what they see: happy-go-lucky surfer-dude who likes to smile and joke. I couldn’t possibly be as tough as their senses are telling them. As we work through a strength and conditioning programme, easy for me, not so easy for a lot of these wolves, their irritation with me grows. Now I’m not only a joke for doing yoga, I’m a show off. But they’re still too stubborn to see me as a genuine threat.
When the sparring section of the session begins, I step up to the ring, itching to work out some of my frustrations on someone else’s face. Pretending not to hear the sly digs they whisper not-so-quietly behind my back, I assess the opponent who has stepped forward to join me.
Talking shit with his buddies has made him far too cocky. He’s big and brawny, with thick arms covered in swirling tribal tattoos; he’s too muscle bound to be fast, which I guess will be my biggest advantage.
“Maybe if I beat you, Lucia will listen to sense and send you packing,” he taunts. “She hasn’t even let you join the pack yet. She must be having second thoughts.”
What Lucia thinks of me right now is of little concern, if I’m honest; even though I know that’s unfair to her.
“Stop stalling, big guy,” I bark. I think I’ve heard the others calling him Simon, but he probably has a cool nickname like Tank or Bulldog.
Bouncing from foot to foot, I feel more like myself as adrenaline trickles into my veins. I see the flash of anger in his eyes and smile, knowing his type all too well. All he cares about is what other people think; appearances are everything.
When he comes at me, hoping for a swift and dramatic take down, I duck under his arm and enjoy watching as he stumbles forward, stopping himself from falling to the ground at the last second.
“Careful now.” When I wink his colour deepens, and he clenches his fists. His buddies are all watching and he’s already embarrassed.
The turn of his foot and the way he shifts his weight gives away his next strike, and before his hands even move, I’m out of the way, spinning and sweeping his foot out from under him.
Crashing to the ground with a heavy thud, he curses, clambering to his feet with barely disguised contempt.
“Your balance is off. You’re too big to lean forward like that,” I offer, but my advice just enrages him more. “Just trying to help.”
Narrowing his eyes, he looks like he might actually kill me; if he could actually get to me. With a flurry of kicks and punches he lunges at me again, and I block him with ease, letting him tire himself out. As he pivots, he sees a crowd gathering and grits his teeth. He lowers his head and charges me, foregoing all finesse and resorting to brute strength. Bracing myself for impact, I let him take me to the ground, immediately twisting around and pinning him, his arm bent behind his back at a painful angle.
He hisses as I increase the pressure, his wild eyes taking in the rows of his comrades watching us.
“Tap out right now or I’ll break your fucking arm,” I whisper near his ear, giving him one last chance to submit. Reluctantly, he slams his palm against the dirt and I jump off his back, giving him space to climb to his feet. Begrudging nods of respect greet me when I scan the onlookers, already dispersing.
After a few more fights, all of which end quickly when I dispatch my opponents with clinical efficiency, Eventually, I’m asked to sit out the next round before someone gets injured. Happy to oblige, my point well and truly made, I find Tank again. Something tells me he’s exactly the kind of guy Toby would have been friends with.
“Your anger makes you sloppy, but you’re strong. With some combat training you’ll get there.” Obviously out-classed, he’s still smarting from the defeat but shakes my hand respectfully. With a wink, I add, “We can’t let those bears think we need them to defend us.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Arrogant assholes.” His remarks are off-handed as he dusts himself off, but then he looks at me through narrowed eyes. “What the fuck would you know about bears? You might be strong, but a bear would wipe the floor with you, and you know it.”
Shrugging, I sit down on one of the benches to re-tie my laces, purposely putting myself in a lower position relative to him. A move designed to make him feel more comfortable after the lesson I just gave him. I’m not judging a book by its cover; I want to keep him talking.
“Probably,” I agree with his dig. “Which is why my choice would be to keep them out of pack business; Marcus and Bodhi Lennox are in Grey Ridge now. Grumpy fucks. I’m always warning Cooper they’re not to be trusted. Bears aren’t pack animals. They have no loyalty.”
“Just stay out of it.”
I can practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he tries to figure out what I know. I shrug again, pretending not to be all that interested in the conversation. When I get to my feet, he tips his head toward the packhouse.
