Series: Star Moon Pack Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 118781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
All my life, I thought that kind of horror story was a bunch of exaggerated bullshit meant to keep us in line. Like the humans and religion, in a way. The sort of stories parents tell their kids so they won’t go and do anything stupid, like bind their wolf to someone who would rather suffer the pains of refusal and fight against the natural pull of something much bigger than themselves.
There I was, thinking no wolf would be that stupid or stubborn. Now here I am, facing the most bafflingly stubborn wolf who was ever fucking born. No wonder she was able to make it through the shit her packmates used to put her through. She’s too fucking stubborn to do anything but survive.
By the time we reach the center, the pack’s guards and the most experienced fighters who’ve already been in battle have gathered for training. The guards were back here, watching the borders and keeping our territory safe, so the few highly-skilled fighters, who were with us during the gathering with Star Moon and the other packs, are filling them in on what went down.
On our arrival, everyone goes silent, looking at us with obvious curiosity. “All right, let’s not look at our easy win as the way things are going to go from now on,” I inform them, and there’s audible disappointment as a result. “We met with the council a few minutes ago, and the general consensus is that it wasn’t an attack so much as a breach.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Forrest continues. “They didn’t back down from the fight, as we know. But they weren’t as prepared as they’d be in a planned attack. No first wave, no archers.”
“So, let’s not let our guard down, in other words,” I conclude. “We’re going to continue training as we always have. Now split into two groups.”
I need a little exertion now. Even pain. Anything, so long as it drives the call of her wolf out of my system for a little while. We go through basic warmups, tussling, and challenging each other before pairing up as we would on the battlefield. Without question, Forrest stands by my side. I wouldn’t fight alongside anyone else. Even at his worst, his most infuriating, he’s the other half of me. There is no one I trust more.
The guards serving as our opponents in the exercises strap on training armor to protect them against the random bite or clawing that sometimes can’t be helped when we’re all in the throes of exertion. We normally wouldn’t bother with it, instead choosing to take our chances and heal as we normally would, but Dad doesn’t want to take any risks at a time like this. We can’t afford to lose a single fighter, even for the short time it would take to recover from a grisly bite wound or a set of claws to the chest. There’s no way of knowing when a new attack will come.
We take them through the normal practice while working on our reflexes, ducking and dodging. Forrest and I work like a well-oiled machine, as always, watching the other’s blindside, knocking out unseen threats. I pity the guards who take us on—there’s no way of getting past us without bruised ribs or pulled muscles.
After a couple of hours, there isn’t one of us who’s not breathing heavily and more than a little sore. I’m as glad as they are when it comes time to break for the day. It’s a relief, though, being this tired. My wolf has quietened down for once.
My mind, however, hasn’t. There’s a question I can’t let go of. We haven’t talked seriously about it yet, and now that we’re more or less alone—and since we’re too worn out to get in a fight, there’s no better time. “I have to ask you something.”
“I could tell there was something on your mind. Why do you bother trying to hide it from me? You’re no good at it.”
It’s only knowing he’s right that keeps me from shoving him off the sidewalk. “Why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what?” He’s distracted, as fatigued as I am, and his vagueness stirs my wolf’s irritation.
“You know what. What else would I be asking about? Her. Why did you reject her? We never talked about it before.”
“I’m sick to death of the topic.”
I have to grit my teeth—it’ll be a miracle if I have any left in my mouth by the time this is over. If it ever is. “That’s very nice. I’m glad you feel you can afford to have that attitude. For some of us, it’s a little different.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Thank you. You saved my ass. I didn’t think we had to say things like that to each other.”