Page 58 of Bitten Shifter

I nod absently, more out of politeness than genuine interest. The concept of pack politics—challenges, ranks, hierarchies—feels like a distant world I’ve accidentally blundered into. I don’t want any part of it. I have no burning desire to climb an imaginary ladder or prove my dominance. Being in charge of anyone, especially a group of shifters, sounds exhausting.

Poor Merrick.

Riker pauses, waiting for a question or comment, but when none comes, he grins. “Not a fan of the whole dominance thing, huh?”

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “You can keep your ranks and challenges. All I want is peace—to be left alone and get through this absurd situation alive without more complications. I’ve had enough of people dictating my life, thank you very much.”

Once we have finished warming up, we start with judo basics. Initially, Riker takes it easy, clearly testing the waters, but he soon realises I know what I’m doing. His grin widens as he switches gears, showing me shifter-specific moves—techniques meant for fighting in human form or half-shifted ‘warrior form,’ which sounds insane.

This is more like it. I’m enjoying myself for the first time in ages. Riker is skilled, and though he’s careful, he does nothold back. That means I don’t have to either. The sparring is invigorating—until it isn’t.

A group of young men swagger into the space, their loud voices disrupting the room’s focus. One of them, obnoxious and cocky, starts throwing out petty comments.

“Who let the girl in here? Isn’t anywhere sacred from these bitches? Go make me a sandwich,” he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. His eyes flick to my arm. “Look at her—looks like she got chewed up and spat out.”

His little pack of idiots laughs on cue.

This change in me isn’t just affecting my movements and senses—it’s making me more volatile. Where once I might have kept calm, now I’ve got a hair trigger. I need to watch myself.

I try to ignore them, I really do, but I see the muscle in Riker’s jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth. He’s annoyed, and I feel the tension shift. We keep working, trying to stay focused, but the guy won’t shut up.

When we slow down to work on a more intricate move, it must look like I’m fumbling to the untrained eye. The loudmouth pounces on the opportunity to pipe up again.

“Who taught her to fight? Barbie’s Ken?” he jeers. “Bet her arse is the only thing keeping her here.”

I can tell instinctively he is an alpha—an overgrown, six-and-a-half-foot baby alpha, but still. The thing inside me is amused. I’m not. Alphas with unchecked egos don’t last long, or so I’ve read. They are a liability in a society as aggressive as this.

He keeps up his commentary, getting cruder. I try to ignore him, but Riker’s growing frustration distracts me, and eventually I snap.

“Oi, kid!” I snarl, turning to face him. “Shut the eff up. Nobody cares what you think.”

He looks like he’s never been challenged before. He freezes for a moment, hesitates, then his bravado kicks in.

“What’s your problem, human?” he says, puffing his chest out and flexing his biceps. “You volunteering to teach me a lesson?”

I smile coldly, but I know better than to act without permission. “Can I take this one?” I ask Riker, keeping my voice casual. “Surely there are extra rules about beating up children.”

Riker smirks. “You could, but you’d make him cry in front of his friends. Don’t want to embarrass him, do you?”

The kid steps onto the mats, his face flushed with anger. “Come on, bitch,” he spits.

The nauseating scent of an angry shifter ripples across the practice room.

“Is that a challenge, boy?” Riker asks evenly, his voice edged with warning.

“Yeah.”

A challenge has been issued. I groan. My first shifter challenge, and it’s with this idiot. Fantastic.

“Skin only, no permanent damage,” Riker says, setting the terms.

Skin only. No fur. That means neither of us can shift. Great. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he is a fully fledged shifter.

I’m about to fight a real shifter.

Shit.

Decades of sparring haven’t truly prepared me for this. I’ve never fought for real—apart from choking out that guy at work—certainly not like this.

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