Page 15 of Reformed Wolf

I was being punished. There was no other description for what was about to happen. I was clearly the wrong kind of alpha for Dylan—according to his dad, anyway. Did he know what his son did to me last night? My guess was not, because I had a feeling I’d already be six feet under if that were the case, though it was clear he suspected something. The man was intense.

Keeping my cool, cocky persona was easy. I was born to cover up all those tough-to-process emotions with sarcasm and swagger. I kept my chin held high as I pivoted toward the ring. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I shoved my way through the crowd, their bodies pressed in close on all sides, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. I refused to be intimidated.

The twins were already in the cage waiting for me. They were like mirror images, but I couldn’t tell which one was real and which was the reflection. Did it matter? They were both about to inflict pain, I had no doubt.

You ready? I asked my wolf. He simply growled in reply. I could feel him coiled tight inside, ready to unleash hell.

He was pressing at me hard, desperate to get out and get this show on the road, but I kept a tight leash and eased him forward just enough to borrow his nose. Drawing the air deeply into my lungs, I snorted, skeptical. “Kangaroos? Seriously?” I only recognized the scent because my moms had taken me to the zoo when I was a kid.

“What’s the matter? Never boxed a roo before?” I knew the one who’d spoken was Oliver because he was dressed in shorts and had his hands wrapped in tape, prepared for the fight, while his brother Noah was improvising in his boxers and bare knuckles. They were both smirking, brown eyes twinkling. Their skin was deeply tanned, their messy hair sun-bleached blond. It was really too bad, because I had a feeling that if we weren’t about to kick the shit out of each other, these guys would’ve been fun to hit the bar with.

They bounced side to side on the balls of their feet, and I felt like I was seeing double. I blinked hard, trying and failing to dislodge the confusion it caused. “Stay still, would you?” I muttered, and they both smirked.

I’d watched the other fights, so I caught on to the gist of how this was going to go. We fought first as humans until first blood was drawn, then devolved into our beasts. The fight wasn’t over until there was either an injury serious enough to need immediate medical attention, loss of consciousness, or worst-case scenario, death. That last match had made me nervous, though. The entire thing was over without a single drop of blood. How was I supposed to compete with that? I wasn’t a trained fighter.

I turned my head to glance toward the raised platform. From where I was under the spotlight, it was hard to see Dylan in the shadows, but I could feel him there. I had a suspicion I would always be able to feel him, no matter where he was, that I could find him simply by following this tug from deep inside my chest. But I still wished I could see him, let my eyes devour every inch of his flesh, followed by my fingers—and my tongue…

I had to be careful, because this yearning could lend me strength, but it could just as easily become a distraction, and right now, I needed to be present here in the ring. Even a tiny mistake could be fatal. I turned back around and lowered into a crouch.

Mr. Caruso gave the go-ahead, and the fight began. The twins were clearly in tune with each other, and moved as one unit, coming at me from both sides. It was a struggle for me to keep an eye on both of them at the same time, my eyes darting back and forth. I found myself stepping back to keep space between us.

No running, my wolf sneered, thinking I was trying to retreat.

Don’t worry. I’m just trying to bide my time, wait for an opening. He didn’t seem convinced, and I didn’t blame him. I was out of my league. I wished I’d had a chance to see them fight. I had no clue what to expect of their technique.

At some unspoken signal, the twins crossed in front of me. They clasped hands, and Noah twisted and swung Oliver around through the air. Suddenly, where I’d thought they were too far to attack, this doubled their reach. With the extra momentum, his leg sliced across, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face.

“Fuck,” I muttered, staggering back. Tasting the coppery tang of blood, I wiped my thumb across my lower lip and brought it back to see the proof. They scored first blood.

Part of me was disappointed I hadn’t even gotten in a hit yet, but the rest of me realized how futile this whole thing might be. These guys were far better than me. I would’ve had a hard time against just one of them, and they’d obviously been trained at fighting as a duo. But did being outmatched mean I was going to give up? Hell no.

Blood officially spilled, they shifted fast, faster than I was prepared for. Dropping their shorts and boxers to keep them from shredding, they stood to a new height, well over my six feet tall. Reddish-tan fur sprouted from their bodies, their faces changing shape, ears lengthening, long, powerful tails extending behind them. My jaw was probably still gaping in awe when one of them bounded straight up to me, then leaned back on his tail to kick both large feet straight at my chest. The impact was like a sledgehammer. I flew back, air leaving my lungs as my feet left the mat, and my body slammed into the barrier, rattling the whole cage.

Gasping, I clutched at my chest, which burned like a motherfucker when I tried to draw breath. I was pretty sure my ribs were broken. “Fuck me,” I moaned, getting back to my feet.

Jude ran up to the cage behind me. “Move faster,” he barked at me. “And would you hurry up and shift already?”

“I’d like to see you do better,” I snarled.

His gaze darted over my shoulder, eyes widening. “Duck!”

I did, clawed paws punching where my head had been just moments ago.

Running, I shifted to my wolf while on the move, bones snapping, ligaments stretching. Unfortunately, my underwear paid the ultimate price for my inattention. Good thing I didn’t mind showing off my junk to an audience. White fur lengthened, teeth sharpened, until I finally dropped down onto four paws, already in a sprint toward the far side of the ring, trying to put distance between me and the threat. Too bad that was impossible with two of them. It didn’t help that they could leap from one end of the mat to the other in one hop. Shit, I was so damn screwed.

My turn, my wolf told me, drool dripping through bared fangs as he spun around. I handed over control to my beast’s instincts, though kangaroos were way out of our wheelhouse. How different could it be to hunting deer? Predator wins over prey every time. Right?

Our lower center of gravity put us below their clawed forelimbs. Now it came down to dodging their kicks. While they were strong, they weren’t terribly agile, and after getting knocked around a few times, we figured out that they couldn’t change direction once they were in the air, so it was all a matter of timing.

Left. No, right! Quick, bite! I was the worst kind of back-seat shifter.

Shh! my wolf hissed at me. I know what I’m doing.

And it certainly seemed he did as we spun around one of the kangaroos, our jaw closing around its tail. It was dense, all muscle, almost like a human’s thigh. The short pelt was prickly against our tongue, and the blood that flowed into our mouth was a bit gamey. It tasted more like cow than my burger last night did.

Thanks to the roo’s rigid spine, he couldn’t twist around to dislodge us. He was built for power, not agility, and he needed the tail for walking and balance. Jaw locked on, we dragged him across the mat, keeping his body between us and his brother, using him as a sort of shifter shield. He let out a growly grunt, finally ducking forward and pushing off with his powerful back feet. We lost our footing, dragged away from the cage wall—and it left us exposed to an attack from the remaining twin.

He didn’t hesitate to make his move, leaping in and clawing and biting at us. Kangaroos might’ve been herbivores, but they had sharp incisors at the front of their jaws, long enough to get through our fur. My wolf let out a yelp at the piercing sting. We were forced to let go of the tail and dart away to avoid further injury. Blood soaked our fur, stark against the snowy-white pelt.

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