Page 80 of The Beta's Blind Date

The strength and speed workouts Reid put me through over the last two weeks have paid off. She’s fast, but I’m faster, and I have determination and the need to prove myself driving me.

My leg wraps around her ankle, yanking it from under her as she works to catch her breath from my wind-stealing blows. I clasp her wrists into one of mine, pinning them above her head and pressing her down to the mat with my full body weight, trapping her.

The crowd holds its breath, leaning forward, waiting to see what happens. The only noise is our breathing and the rustle of the wind over the grounds.

Blake squirms and struggles under me, grunting, but she can’t break my hold. Not this time. She blows loose hair out of her face, and then her hand taps the mat, signaling her surrender.

I jump off her as the crowd cheers, springing to their feet in a standing ovation. I reach down to help her up, but Dawson is already there, crouching next to her and talking to her in a low voice.

“Well done,” Dominic says.

I glance behind me, and he’s holding his hand up for a high five, which I don’t hesitate to give him. “Thanks.”

“Get some water and let me know when you’re ready for your run.”

I nod and leave the sparring ring, heading to the water jug to cool off for a moment. I don’t drink too much, though, because I don’t want to worry about water sloshing around in my stomach while I run.

Dawson jogs up to the table and fills a cup, and I smile at him, but he doesn’t pay me any attention. He speed walks back over to Blake, glaring down at her when she pushes the water cup away from herself.

“Drink it!” he orders, pushing it back in her face.

“I don’t want any yet, Troll! Let me breathe, for fuck’s sake.”

“She’s stubborn!” I call out to him over the noise from the crowd as they transition over to the racecourse.

He frowns and crosses one arm over his chest, scowling at Blake, still trying to shove the water into her hands. “Tell me about it.”

“Good luck on your run!” Blake says to me, ignoring Dawson. “I’ll be waiting to fight you in my badass werewolf form!”

“Waiting to get your ass handed to you again,” I say with a wink.

“We’ll see!”

I laugh and throw my cup in the trash, then walk to the starting line, stretching my quads and rolling my head as I do, easing any lingering tension. Running is my sanctuary, but this race is difficult. It’s designed to be challenging, to separate the toughest wolves from those who are playing at being a warrior.

I intend to be part of the former group.

I stand in place at the starting line, reaching up to adjust my lucky head wrap. The pink tie-dye one. The one I wore the day I invoked the challenge.

“I’m ready,”I mindlink Dominic.

He nods at me and then at Delta Conor, who blows his whistle and starts the timer.

I take off as soon as the whistle blows, settling into a steady pace, slightly faster than my normal workout pace. The clock is my only opponent, but I’ve done this countless times. This is the easiest part for me.

The pack grounds pass by me in a blur as I run along the familiar path used in every training and every competition. My body is on autopilot through every curve and every straightaway. I’m focused on the finish line, not my surroundings.

I zero in on my breathing and my stride. I push myself just enough, but not too much. There is still the wolf form half of the race.

I reach the end of the trail in what has to be the least amount of time I’ve ever run this course in, and I’m not tired or feeling strained. No, quite the opposite. The cheers echoing through my ears and the smiles on Dominic, Dawson, and Blake’s faces as I near the start of the wolf half of the course energize me and push me to go faster, to kick it up a notch.

The painted line on the ground draws nearer, marking where I need to shift, and I close my eyes, breathing and counting my steps as I draw closer, pulling my head wrap off and tossing it to the side so I don’t ruin it when I shift. The rest of what I’m wearing doesn’t matter—I have a stack of spare clothes waiting for me for after the entire event.

I open my eyes on the last two steps, pushing harder than ever and calling forth my wolf, letting her take the lead, letting her take over, relaxing into my shift.

But nothing happens.

I falter to a stop at the line, brow furrowing and feet fumbling to stay on this side. I can’t cross over it if I’m not in wolf form—that’s rule number one for this obstacle course.

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