by Paige Taylor
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Steven asks from his standing position next to the large mahogany desk.
“We hunt these motherfuckers down,” voices Dylan’s Beta, Trent, his palms running up and down his legs with nervous energy, his statement mirroring Wade’s recklessness.
“We can’t do that yet, we need just a little more information on Vincent and his patterns. Once we have his routines, defences, and Pack information documented, we can go in for a confrontation. I will not walk either of the Packs into an unknown fight, and I know Wade is with me on that.” Dylan pauses until Wade acknowledges his point with a reluctant head nod.
“Our plan is this, I will give our sources one more day to gather the information necessary. Once that is in our hands, we can look at the best approach to dealing with this situation, and when it would be best to include the council,” Dylan finishes, looking around the room for anyone to voice an opinion.
“Vincent has no doubt burnt or deleted any evidence Ava could have seen in that office, which means he would have had to hide it somewhere else. If he was arrogant enough to keep the original copies, I would bet my bottom dollar on him keeping records elsewhere. That means once we have that information and pick the date of that confrontation, we need two teams. One team will be physical muscle, going with us as a show of force to take on Vincent and any other physical demands that we may need to clean up their fucking mess. The other team will be information trackers, searching his primary and secondary properties, as well as any other places he could hide that shit. We need that proof, otherwise this will have all been a waste of time,” Wade explains to the room, his voice barely keeping the tension tremor from it. Clearly, he and Dylan are used to working together, they are like a goddamn, tag team. Oh damn, that sounds fucking hot. Wade and Dylan tag teaming me, yep that’s definitely something I want to try.
“Ava, how is training going?” Steven asks me as he leans against the window frame, his face set with a grim expression. His questioning making me jump from my fantasies to reality with a jolt.
“Shithouse. The ones who have the ability to be very strong fighters are convinced they don’t need my help, and when I prove that they do, they sulk because they were beaten by me and still refuse to listen. I wish I could beat them into submission, but I already do that in my ‘prove a point’ fights, and whilst they back down off the challenge, their mood is just as foul. I think at this point the best thing we can do is I teach you guys the manoeuvres, and then you teach them. It will save time and sanity, and they won’t have to grow back teeth.” I sigh, my head rising up to look at the roof while my hands and arms come up to hold the back of my head. God, I wish the high heavens could drop a helping hand my way, for once.
“The ones who are beginning are faring a little better, we’ve progressed from basic defence to combining offensive and defensive basic manoeuvres. They aren’t anywhere near ready for a combat fight, especially a trained vampire fight. They could probably get around a sloppy newly turned, if they were lucky. I’m just going to keep progressing it every session until I know they can hold their own. It’s more the unknown time frame that will determine whether or not we get to that stage on time,” I try explaining to the room.
I had been holding two mixed martial arts training sessions a day, one for beginners and one for the experienced fighters. There wasn’t much more I could do for them during the sessions, it takes time and patience to be a good fighter and a lot of hard fucking work. I just don’t know if we have the time to make some of these wolves that good.
“I’m happy to take over the experienced fighters, just show me before each session the moves you want to focus on. I’ll make sure they pull their heads out of their asses,” Zane says gruffly, his very large body looking equally delicious spread across the leather lounge in the study. It’s the first time that I’ve heard my reticent Mates’ voice since he left bed this morning.
“Sounds like a good plan. Marco would you mind also filling in for Steven in the beginner’s class? I want Steven to learn those moves, too, and I know Ava can teach you them on your night,” Dylan asks, looking over to his cousin.
“Yeah, no problem. Works better for me, too. I can do those early classes then head out to work. I don’t want to miss any more work in case shit hits the fan later, and I have to take time off,” he says, his fingers swirling around the button hole in the armchair.
“I just want this fucker dead! I don’t want anyone else goddamn hurt over this psychopathic, selfish man-child!” I burst out into the room of stoic men, the frustration and anxiety causing my hands to tremble in the fist that I’ve closed them in.
“Okay, so everyone knows what’s going on? Well then, let’s go about our business!” Dylan tells the room before getting up out of his chair and crossing to me, pulling me into his warmth and holding me there. I feel the air around my body get warmer as three other bodies moved in close around my body.
“We will finish him, Ava. For everything he has done. He will be discovered, and he will be punished,” Dylan the protector whispers into my hair, his arms tightening around me.
“We will save the rest of the packs, Ava,” Marco says from my right, his hand tangling in my hair. Forever the humanitarian, my Mac.
“We will always be here to give you strength,” Wade vows from my left, his hand coming up to cup my face, his fingers brushing over my cheek.
“We will never let you go through that again,” Zane voices, his body pressing into the back of mine, his understanding words breaking me down until a single tear drips from my eye.
“Alright my little ninjas, I have a treat for you!” I exclaim to the class as they all finish their warm down a little earlier than normal.
“You see those big, scary men over there by each of the poles? Well, everyone is going to be split into four groups, one group for each of those guys. Now, each of you must have two moves that you perform, one attack and one defence.” I pause while listening to the excited whispers breaking out across the twenty-four kids attending the class that night.
“There are a few ground rules, though. Yes, you can kick, flip, and trip any of them. However, no crotch shots, no biting or eye-gouging. Am I clear?” I ask, waiting for the chorus of yeses rings through the gym.
“Okay, I’m going to give each of you a number. If you are number one, you are going to Marco in the bottom-right corner. Number two’s go to Zane in the bottom-left corner. Number three’s go to Dylan in the top-right corner. Finally, number four’s go to Wade who’s in the top-left corner,” I explain, pointing to each of my Mates in the process. Seeing their little smirks and smiles distracts me for a few seconds, before I take off and begin numbering the kids.
I barely get the numbers out before the kids start to run to their designated numbers. There are six children in each group, each with very different strengths. It’s going to be interesting seeing my guys fake a take down for every child. I made sure before we all walked into the Dojo together that they understood the game, each of them had to take a dive for either a defensive or an attack manoeuvre, either way, they had to act like the child had won.
“Go!” I yell out across the floor. I watch all the kids line up, and I observe them perform their two moves, I see middle punches, Kin Geri, and Yoki Geri’s all being thrown. Others are going straight to the defensive, trying a leg sweep or Osoto Gari, trying to shift my Mate’s body weight over their tiny frames. Luckily, my men know how to act and every single one of them takes dive after dive for those kids, my heart fluttering at the looks on the children’s faces, pure joy radiating from them. Seeing how good they are with the kids, has me seriously questioning whether or not I am ready for a child, because at the moment my ovaries are bursting.
Within half an hour, everyone had had a go and was leaving the gym with excited chatter and smiles so bright that my heart was breaking at the seams. Seriously, could my Mates not be perfect at everything they do? It was making me feel incompeten
t.
“Well, Angel, I think it’s about time we got you back to the pack house for dinner and a little TLC. You’ve got a lot to do this week,” Zane says, his hand guiding me down the stairs of the gym.
“Why? What’s on this week?” I ask, genuinely curious as to what they thought I had on, because as far as I knew I didn’t have anything on.
“Last fight this weekend, Angel, and it’s a big one,” he explains, his eyebrow going up at my still confused look on my face.
“Shit! I forgot! Well at least, I’ve still been training” I scramble past dates in my head, trying to figure out how that time had gone so quickly. I quickly move down the steps, with my Mates running right behind me.
“How did I forget my last fucking fight?” I exclaim, my head tilting to the sky in exasperation, how did something that was, at one time, my number one enjoyment become an afterthought? Thinking about getting in that octagon isn’t bringing me the same sense of thrill it used to. With everything else that’s been going on, I can think of at least 15 things I would rather be doing than getting in that fight.
“Alright, guys, get me home for that TLC. Whose house am I at tonight?” I ask and yawn at the same time, my words becoming all garbled. I’m too tired to think about the insane roster they’ve all planned out between themselves.
“You’re with me tonight, Baby,” Wade says, his tall frame covered in black, moving towards me and stopping as his hand closes around mine.
“We can have you home in under 30,” Marco says, as he and Dylan give me a deep kiss before they wander over to Marco’s Mercedes.
“Wade, can you come help me down here? There seems to have been an incident involving your coffee machine again!” I yell out from the kitchen. It’s not my fault his stupid, fucking, coffee machine has too many buttons! I didn’t even know they made those kinds of noises.
“How are you going to be the Alpha female if you can’t even work an espresso machine?” a slimy bitchy voice asks from across the room.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask Rachel, without even turning around to acknowledge her. This woman is getting on my very last nerve.
“I can come see my Alpha whenever I damn well please. I think it’s ridiculous I’m banned just because you are intimidated by the bond Wade and I share.” I finally do turn around to check out the piece of work that is standing in my living room. I have to cover my face to hide the laugh that is attempting to slip out. Holy shit. She actually has a bit of nipple popping out of her condom dress today. The outfit today is a hot-pink, synthetic leather, and despite it hugging her figure, she just looks like a plastic, red-headed Barbie in a condom to me.
“First, I’m not intimidated. You were banned for your own safety because I’m about half a conversation away from beating you till there is nothing recognisable about you except your fake tits. Second, take a look in the fucking mirror. Your areola is showing, you desperate twat.” My fingers tick off my two main points. Rachel’s head instantly drops down to look at her dress, before rapidly trying to stuff her boob back into the dress.
“Listen here you uncultured slut, Wade is mine. He was mine before you got here, and he will be mine again as soon as you get it into that thick skull that you are not welcome. Now, I think I’ll just go find Wade. He probably needs some help getting off, considering he was never into fatties before,” She did not just say that to me. Fuck it. I’m done.
I lighten my footsteps to follow closely behind her. Just as she places her high-heeled shoe on the first step, my hand shoots forward. I grab her long, red hair and drag her backwards towards the front door. Her nails dig into my skin, slicing little cuts across my arm, but I don’t let go. Throwing open the front door with my free hand, I pull her outside and throw her onto the ground in front of the porch.
“No. You listen here. He is my fucking Mate. He belongs to me. I have given you enough fucking leeway with your attitude. Guess you can’t fucking say I’m cheating this time. Now, stand the fuck up.” I growl as my teeth elongate, my wolf riding me hard.
Rachel instantly jumps up, ready for a fight. I let her make the first move, her whole body flying forward with the intention of tackling me to the ground. I step to the side and kick out to my left; my foot connects with the soft tissue of her stomach as her momentum pulls her past me. Using her imbalance to my advantage, I slip my arm around her thin waist and throw her to ground. I sit on her chest, my knees pinning her arms underneath me. My fist collides with her nose in three quick punches, the sounds of cracking bone and her cries of pain reverberating through the empty field. Her body continues to try and buck me off, but I only press further into her arms, restricting her movement. I take a few calming breaths before focusing back on Rachel’s face.
“Rachel, I hope you now understand that I don’t take shit from anyone. I cannot tolerate insolent behaviour. I will not allow disrespect, dissention, and goddamn petty bullshit to cause this pack anymore pain. That being said, if you ever fucking come near my Mate with anything other than pack business, I will not be as fucking kind as I am trying to be today. If you think this is all I’m capable of doing, you are so very wrong. Now, if I let you up, are you going to be a decent fucking person? Or will you cause more unnecessary drama?” I could feel the anger, frustration, and humiliation saturating the air around her.
“I still don’t think you are right for him or this pack. But, in accordance with pack ways, I submit. I will not bother your Mate in any situation outside of Pack business. I do, however, refuse to think of you as anything other than an uncultured bitch who doesn’t deserve the life she has.” Rachel’s eyes harden further with each word, her growling becoming louder as the seconds pass. Blood and tears continue to stream from her eyes and nose, but without the use of her hands, it just slides down her face and neck.
“That’s okay, because I still think you’re a skanky hoe with no morals, a bad attitude problem, and a horrendous boob job. We can’t win them all. Now, get the fuck away from me.” Standing as I finish the sentence, I walk away from the mess that is Rachel.
Wade is standing by the front door, his arms crossed over his deliciously naked chest, watching Rachel leave. His scowl deepens the closer I get, the blood still dripping from my hands.
“Need me to take care of that?” he asks, his eyes assessing me from head to toe.
“Nope, I think I’ve got it all covered. I broke her nose in three places. Hopefully, she got the hint. If not, I’m happy to do a bit more work on her.” I shrug my indifference at having to fight the she-wolf again.
“Okay, let me know if I need to step in. In the meantime, what the fuck did you do to my coffee machine?” His arm slings over my shoulder as he pulls me back into the house.
“About that . . .” I trail off, curling myself around him.
Chapter Sixteen
“Jesus fucking Christ, guys. Could you tone down the nerves? This isn’t my first fucking rodeo. In case you’ve forgotten, I was doing this long before you four came into my life, and I am still undefeated. That isn’t about to change tonight. Now, sit the fuck down or stand the fuck up, but just stay fucking still, it’s making me all tense,” I say, looking around the room to stare each of my men in the face, the frustration rising through me.
“Sweetheart, we’re just worried. We aren’t really keen on the idea of you going out there and purposely getting in a fight with someone who’s sole purpose in that ring is to beat the shit out of you,” Marco voices, trying to make me see their point of view.
“I’m very well aware of how you guys are feeling, but I just need you guys to rein it in a little, you’re making me tense, and I can’t go into this tense or anxious. Otherwise, I really will fuck up, and you’ll have to watch me get my ass handed to me. So, please, for the love of my health and the face you all love so much, calm down and trust me to get this done and get it done well,” I plead with them.
“Fine. But at least, let us help you get ready?” Wade asks while leani
ng his back against the lockers in front of me, his hands deep in his pockets looking like the definition of a bad boy in his black jeans, black Henley, and black-leather jacket.
“That would be perfect, Wade. Can you strap my hands please?” I ask, my eyes looking into his beautiful blues.
“Absolutely, baby.” As he saunters closer to me, I hold out the tape on the palm of my hand, just as he reaches me.
His rough hands take mine and rotate my wrists till my knuckles are face up. He rubs his thumb over the tops of my knuckles before he peels off the tape and sticks the first layer down just above my knuckles. I smell Dylan before I feel him, his hands dropping to my shoulders, and his strong fingers kneading out the muscles in my upper traps, working through every muscle knot between my scapula and the base of my neck. My eyes close from the serene comfort of having my Mates touch me. Even in the most innocent of situations, every single brush of their hands sends lightening through my body, lighting up each cell of my body in awareness.
“Well, doesn’t the Queen of the Pit look comfortable? Did you get pathetically needy since finding your Mates, Ava?” I hear a voice sneer, making my eyes snap open and look towards the entrance of the change room.
“Well, if it isn’t the runner up of the pit. Not needy, just supremely lucky. Your mood hasn’t improved, I see. Still haven’t found someone who will be around you long enough to give you a much-needed dosage of dick?” I ask with my sweetest voice possible. Vanessa, the panther shifter, has been the only female fighter who has come close to beating me in the last few months. Vanessa is very beautiful, her raven hair cut to her shoulders, lean, limber, and fucking fast. Unfortunately for her, her personality ruined whatever points her looks give her. She is the most bitter and angry woman I have ever met in my goddamn life, and the amount of shit talk that comes out of her mouth is inconceivable. Half her strategy comes from the psychological games she plays with her opponents before they even get into the ring.
