by Aileen Erin
I was slipping on my kicks when she rushed back into my room. “Let’s go,” she said as she grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the door.
“I’m coming. Jeez. This can’t be that exciting.”
“If Dastien’s there, it’s going to be more than exciting.”
Oh, perfect. She just wanted to watch the drama unfold. “For you, maybe.”
“No maybe about it.”
“Glad my drama can entertain you.”
She pulled her blue and black hair in a high ponytail. “Me too. It was way more boring here before you came.”
I probably shouldn’t have liked that, but I did. Making someone else happy made me feel good.
Maybe this class wasn’t going to be so bad. I trusted Meredith. She was the first person, not counting family, that knew about my abilities, and she hadn’t freaked out.
How hard could it really be to get through one martial arts class?
Chapter Twenty-Two
The scent of sweat, plastic, and new wax hit me when Meredith opened the door to the gym. The center of the shiny hardwood floor was covered in bright blue mats. A fight was going on in the middle of them. They were moving so fast that I almost couldn’t make out their faces, but Chris and Adrian were kicking each other’s ass. They were stripped down to a pair of gym shorts. A few guys had their shirts on, but that seemed to be the norm for most of the guys there.
They were managing to block all the hits, until Chris flipped Adrian on his back. The slam echoed off the walls. A few people clapped and cheered as Adrian kipped-up effortlessly and punched Chris in the stomach. The sound of flesh hitting flesh made me break out in a sweat.
Shit. They weren’t kidding about fighting. They were amazing.
And there was no way I could do this. I started to walk back out the doors. “Tomorrow would really work better for my schedule,” I said when Meredith called me on it.
She grabbed the back of my yoga pants, stopping my retreat. “You’re going to be fine. I’m sure Dastien will start you out with something small. Right, Daz?”
Dastien strode toward us. He wore sweatpants, no shoes, no shirt. I’d never seen anyone with a six-pack in real life before. My heart started pounding.
Holy hotness, Batman. Someone call the fire department. This guy was out of control.
“I thought we talked about you not calling me Daz.” Dastien crossed his arms, which made his biceps look huge. No wonder that tree had splintered earlier.
A pitiful whiney noise escaped me before I could stifle it. I covered my mouth with my hand.
The sounds of Adrian and Chris’ fight stopped. I peeked around Dastien to see my classmates watching the drama unfold. I guessed Meredith had been right about that. Funny how I never thought I’d star in my own personal soap opera.
Chris ran over to us. “Everything okay?”
I said no at the same time that Dastien said yes.
“She smells scared—”
“I know what she smells like,” Dastien said too quietly.
“Gross!” I said. “That’s really fucking disgusting. Can we not discuss what your super-schnozes are smelling right now? Kay. Thanks.”
Dastien sighed and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they had gone from amber to bright yellow. “I was going to teach her, but maybe it’s easier if I don’t. Meredith?”
“I suck at explaining. Chris should do it.” She nudged me.
“I’m in,” Chris said.
“No,” Dastien said.
This was going nowhere fast.
Shannon joined us. “You ready, love?” she asked Meredith.
“Don’t leave me,” I mouthed to Meredith.
“You’re going to do fine. Kick Chris’ ass for me.” They walked to the other side of the gym, and started stretching.
Jerks. Leaving me alone to deal with the boys.
I glanced from Chris to Dastien and back again. “So, what now?”
“Fine.” Dastien crossed his arms. His biceps bulged and I wanted to squeeze them to see if they were as firm as they looked.
Dastien cleared his throat, drawing my attention to his face. I blushed at his smirk. I hoped I hadn’t been too obvious with my staring, but I had a feeling I’d been utterly transparent. Traitorous hormones.
“I’ll be watching you,” Dastien said.
That wasn’t going to help me concentrate at all.
“Chris is the best student fighter in the school, but he’ll go slow with you.” I made sure to keep contact with his eyes as he talked. It was much harder than it should’ve been. “I’m assuming you’ve never taken any kind of class like this?”
“Does a Tae Bo video count?” I said.
“No,” they said together.
That’s what I thought. “Then, no.”
“Okay, Chris. Start with basic stretches, then stances. Make sure she doesn’t break anything when she tries to throw a punch,” Dastien said. “If she gets hurt, I’ll make you hurt.”
Yikes. Poor Chris. Chances were I’d probably hurt myself, but it wouldn’t be his fault.
“I’ll take good care of her.” Chris winked at me as soon as Dastien walked away.
I looked Chris up and down. He’d put back on his shirt, which I was glad for. Dastien could possibly classify as the jealous type. But something struck me as off. “I thought you said you were artsy.”
“I am.”
“Artsy people don’t fight like that.”
“Maybe, but I’m a werewolf.” He grinned with all his teeth.
I stared at the ceiling. “Mad. That’s what everyone is here.”
Chris put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me toward the mats. A growl echoed through the suddenly quiet gym. Dastien was watching us, as promised.
Chris started moving his arm, but I reached up and held it in place. “Where we headed, sensei?” I asked Chris.
Chris and Dastien were in some sort of a staring contest. Chris’s blue eyes flared bright. Neither of them noticed me. Chris dropped his gaze to the ground and stepped away from me. “Let’s go over there. Don’t want to be too close to anyone else.” His hands were balled into tight fists, knuckles white.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.” The smile he gave me was a shadow of his usual one.
“He’s…what was the word you used…more alpha than you. Right?”
“He’s more alpha than everyone. Except maybe Mr. Dawson. But no one knows for sure.”
Interesting. I tucked that piece of info away for future reference. “What does that mean?”
“Alpha rules the pack.”
He didn’t add anything else to that little gem. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by “rules the pack.” In what way? And to what extent? I’d save those questions for Meredith. She’d give me some real answers.
Chris stopped when we were at the opposite corner from everyone else. We spent the next ten minutes stretching every muscle—hamstrings, calves, shoulders—which gave me plenty of time to work up my fair share of nerves. Trying something new with an audience was not something I ever aspired to do.
“Feeling loose?” Chris said as he stood on one foot, stretching his quad.
I dropped my foot to the ground. “I guess?”
Sounds of light sparring filled the gym. I scanned the room, and caught a few pairs of eyes watching me, but thankfully not everyone was staring. I tried to avoid glancing at Dastien, but was drawn to the jerk. He was walking through the sparring pairs, giving notes and encouragement. When he reached Imogene, I turned away. That was one train wreck I wouldn’t watch. The whole jealousy feeling was new to me, and I didn’t care for it at all.
“This is a basic fighting stance.” Chris’ voice dragged my attention to the problem at hand.
I copied him, placing my feet shoulder width apart and raising my hands. Chris circled around me, moving my feet into the “correct” stance. He twisted my shoulders a bit. “When you punch with your right hand,
you want your right shoulder to be pulled back a bit. Then, as you punch, follow through with it.”
I nodded like that made sense, but I had no idea what he was talking about. The weird part was that he wasn’t joking or winking or smiling. That thing with Dastien had really gotten to him. He circled around me one more time then pointed to my gloves. “You might have some strange fashion thing going on, but the gloves have to go. You can’t fight in them.”
“Sure I can. What harm are they really doing?”
“I can’t quite tell how you’re holding your fingers. We’re going to start punching and I don’t want you to break anything.”
Against my better judgment, I pulled them off and tucked them into my waistband.
Chris grabbed two hand targets from the other side of the gym. His shoulders were still hunched over.
It wasn’t any of my business what went on between Dastien and Chris, but I felt responsible. I had to try to fix it. “I can’t stand the way you’re acting,” I said.
He put the pads over his hands. “Look. I like you, but I can’t fight Dastien and win.” He stared at the pads as he talked.
What? Who said anything about Chris and Dastien fighting? “Why would you have to fight?”
“Dastien seems to have claimed you and—”
“Claimed me? What the hell does that mean?” I tapped my foot. No one was claiming me except me.
“I forgot for a second how new you are to this.” I groaned, but he continued on before I could bitch about the lack of explaining going on. “We mate for life. Once you’ve been claimed, that’s it. We all know that there’s more guys than girls and—”
He was missing the point entirely. “Excuse me but I do believe I’m living in the age of equal rights for women. This claiming stuff isn’t going to fly with me.”
“It’s not like that. I’m explaining this wrong.” He started messing with the pads. “We just have a different way of viewing relationships than norms.”
“Well, you boys are just going to have to deal where I’m concerned because I’m not getting claimed. I’ll do the claiming when and if the time ever comes.” I pulled my hair free from the band, shook it out, and sloppily put it back up.
Why were werewolves so confusing? And Christ, my life was majorly messed up if I was pondering the degree of confusion werewolves were causing in my life.
Still, I wanted to put a stop to whatever pain Chris was feeling. “Look. I’m not trying to be a bitch about it, so I’m sorry if I am being one. I like you and—”
He finally looked up. A lazy smile spread across his face. “You do?”
Oh, no. Now I’d really done it. I didn’t mean I liked him liked him. “I mean I don’t—” Dastien growled and I could physically fell his anger pulsing through me. The pain took my breath away. I cried out, silencing the room.
I hit the ground on my knees and rubbed my chest. My heart actually ached. Dastien watched us with golden eyes. The expression on his face matched the pain I felt. But how was I feeling his pain? I wasn’t even touching him.
He stomped out of the gym, slamming the door behind him.
“I’m going to go make sure he’s okay,” Imogene said over the now silent gym. She said it sweetly, but the look she gave me was nothing nice.
Shit. Somehow I’d made a complete ass out of myself. This was not what I’d intended at all.
Chris knelt beside me. “Are you okay? What just happened?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dastien’s feelings faded when he left. He thought I was hitting on Chris, and that had hurt him. I was pond scum, total bottom feeding cockroach, for making him feel that much pain. I’d really stepped in it this time. There was no way out of it without hurting Chris’ feelings. I couldn’t set him straight right then. Not while everyone was watching.
I straightened and let go of the last lingering of anger and hurt. “Can we just, you know, have some fun doing this? I’m seriously nervous and everyone is staring now that Dastien…” I motioned to the doors.
“Don’t worry about them. You’re going to do fine. No one’s expecting you to be Jet Li on your first day.”
Shannon and Meredith went back to sparring in the middle of the gym. Shannon did a back flip to avoid Meredith’s sweeping leg. She landed on her feet, and then kicked. Meredith grabbed Shannon’s foot and twisted, sending Shannon spiraling to the ground.
They were amazing. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to do that.”
“We train from the time we can walk. We might not be able to shift till we’re teenagers, but our reflexes and strength are never as bad as a human’s. You’ll catch up.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that. With my luck, I’ll miss those pad things and hit you in the face.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I tried to stand how Chris showed me. I needed to get out of class with the minimum amount of embarrassment. “This is so lame.” I lightly tapped the pad with my fist.
“Oh, come on,” Chris said. “Just do it.”
“Okay, okay. Fine. But if I look like an idiot, it’s your fault. I’m not taking any of the blame.”
“Deal. You don’t know what you’re capable of yet, so don’t limit yourself. Pretend that my hand is your worst enemy. The person who was the meanest to you. The one you dream about destroying.” He slapped the pads together and then held them out again. “Hit it!”
For a second, I pictured the face of my ex-best friend from second grade—the one who started the nickname Freaky Tessa and spilled to everyone what I could do—but I wasn’t that angry with her anymore.
The face morphed into Imogene’s. Anger raged through me.
I got back in the stance and glared at the hand target. I put my whole body behind the punch, following through with my shoulder and twisting at the waist like Chris had shown me. As soon as my knuckles hit, I knew something was wrong but it was too late to pull back.
Chris flew three feet and slammed into the wall. The boom reverberated through the gym over the other sparring noises as he crumpled to the floor.
Dread swamped me. What had I done?
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I kneeled next to him. Chris’ eyes were closed. “Wake up. Please. Please…”
He started laughing.
“Jerk.” I shoved his shoulder into the ground. “This is so not funny. I thought I killed you.”
He grinned. “Come on. It’s kind of funny.” He jumped up and grabbed me around the waist like I weighed no more than a teddy bear. “My little wolfie,” he said as he spun us around in a circle.
I growled and smacked his shoulder.
He gave me a squeeze. “Don’t think that this is going to get you out of doing more reps.”
Maybe he really had hit his head. “No way. I’ll kill you next time for sure. I don’t know if you know this, but I am kind of super strong.”
“I hate to break it to you, babe, but you took me by surprise and I went with the hit. Just a little drama to up the fun level.” He winked.
The gym doors swung open and Mr. Dawson strode in wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Dastien is sitting the rest of this class out.” A series of groans echoed through the gym. More than a few people glanced my way.
Go ahead people. Blame the new kid. Not like Dastien had any responsibility in this whole situation.
“Settle down,” Mr. Dawson said. “You’ll be stuck with me for the next few days. I hear you haven’t done your running yet. One hundred laps people. Now.”
“One hundred. Is he serious?” I slapped a hand over my mouth. Oops. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Totally. You never know what to expect when Mr. D teaches the class. He’s really good at kicking our butts,” Chris said.
“How far is that? This gym is massive.”
“It’s about the size of four basketball courts put together and then some. Nine-ish laps is about a mile.”
&n
bsp; So eleven miles. That’s nearly a half marathon. Axel and I ran nearly every morning before school, but only three miles. On a good day we hit five. This was a whole different ballpark. “This is nuts.”
“Too much talking. Not enough running,” Mr. Dawson said.
At least we weren’t doing it outside. It was way too hot and humid to be running out there. I settled into a comfortable pace next to Chris. Something about the sound of everyone’s feet slapping the wood was pleasant. It took me a minute to realize that we were all running in sync, every footfall matching. I stumbled, breaking the rhythm.
Chris grabbed me before I fell.
My feet matched the rest of the class again. “This is very Village of the Damned.”
“What?”
“You know that horror movie where those kids all look the same and do the same thing. We’re running in perfect sync. Exactly matching Mr. Dawson.”
“That’s part of being a pack. If we were racing, then we wouldn’t match, but when you’re a pack it’s comfortable to move as one.”
I made a face. “I never agreed to join any pack.”
“Well…kinda, through Dastien, who is part of our pack.”
Mr. Dawson sped up, and we met his faster pace.
“Does everyone. Join the pack?” It was getting harder to talk.
“Pretty much.”
“What if. I don’t want to?”
“You’re a girl. You kind of have to.”
I growled. Werewolves were kind of sexist. “You’re pissing me off.”
“Relax.” He bumped me on the shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, well, haven’t you noticed the ratio?”
I let my silence speak for me.
“Not a lot of girls are born. That’s why Imogene thinks she’s so special. Her mom had two girls, which is unheard of. Those two think they’re the shit because of it. Anyway, it’s about a ten to one ratio. We take care of our women, and they’re never without a pack.”
I gave him a sideways glance, hoping he got the point. He was bringing out the feminist in me again and there wasn’t that much ra-ra feminism in me to begin with.
