Page 3 of Fire Bound

I hold up my hand, cutting him off. “Stop,” I order. “You want me here to train? Great, let’s train, butdo notbring up Gage again. The conversation of my dead boyfriend is off-limits, Ransom.”

Grieving. I really wish it were that simple. It’d sure as hell be easier to blame my behavior on grief. Then I’d get a pass for jumping off the deep end like I have.

Ransom’s ocean blue eyes, the same color as mine, flick to his mate who stands silently evaluating the exchange before he looks back at me. “Fine, but if you’re here to train, you’re going to put in someactualeffort. No more of this half-assed bullshit I’ve been watching.”

Blowing out a breath, I lift my chin. “Fine.”

That’s my only warning before I slam my fist right into his jaw. Beau laughs behind me, but I don’t turn to look at her. My eyes never leave my brother as he stumbles back, caught off guard. Using his surprise to my advantage, I take the moment to deliver a punishing roundhouse kick to his chest. Just like Beau, Ransom is dangerously vicious. It will only be so long before he’s slamming me into the mat under our feet.

Blood drips down his chin from his split lip. When he smiles at me excitedly, his teeth are coated in crimson, giving him an unhinged appearance. Ransom’s wolf is wild, craves the fight. My wolf doesn’t seek out violence, but if the opportunity appears, she’s going to rise to the occasion. She was raised by alphas, after all.

Ransom’s fist flies at my face, and I narrowly block it with my forearm before jumping out of the way. I’m subconsciously aware that the other pack members have stopped in their own sparring to watch ours. A Weylyn family fight is bound to draw attention. Someone almost always leaves with a broken bone.

His leg kicks out, swiping my legs out from under me. Landing on my ass, I roll out of the way just before his fist comes barreling toward me. It lands on the mat, inches away from my head. I kick my leg out and my foot connects with his knee with a satisfyingcrunch. His leg buckles and he falls forward. While he’s down, I take the moment to spring back up.

Feeling confident that I was able to make Ransom fall, I hesitate just a moment too long to observe my handiwork before throwing another punch. His hand wraps around my fist so tight, bones crack. Ransom doesn’t let go of my hand as he rises back to his feet. While he moves, he slowly, methodically, bends my wrist and my arm in the direction it’s not meant to bend. My bones strain, my muscles scream in pain.

In an attempt to get him to loosen the hold on my limb, I bring my knee up, slamming it into his gut. He grunts and his hand loosens just enough for me to slip from his hold. With the hand that isn’t still hurting, I deliver another blow to his smug face.

With a nasty growl, stemming from the wolf that lives within him, he charges me like a bull. His arms wrap around my middle, lifting me in the air. I bring my elbows down on his back repeatedly, trying to force him to drop me as he barrels us forward.

We land on the mat that was yards away from the one we started at. The crowd that watches moves with us but is mindful to not get too close. They don’t want to get caught in the fray.

We roll as we land on the mat, I scramble to make sure I don’t end up pinned under him. That will be the end of this little display if he gets that kind of upper hand. The delight that I’m able to pin Ransom to the mat before he can do the same to me is short lived. One second I’m feeling victorious, the next I’m being flipped over his head and landing on my back, promptly being put back in my place.

For the first twenty-plus years of his life, Ransom kept his wolf’s strength hidden from us. We thought he was a docile, playful wolf, but that’s what my brother wanted us to see. We had no idea that his wolf craved the fight, the bloodshed. His wolf is a warrior.

I’ve just gotten to my knees when his hand is wrapping around my neck. One-handed, he lifts me from the ground. Gasping for air, I shove at his hand, but it doesn’t budge. Extending my claws, I dig them into his forearm and tear at the skin. It hurts like a bitch now, but he’ll be healed in the next hour or so. He drops me and crumbles down into a crouching position. Momentarily distanced by his wounds, I snake my arms around his neck, effectively getting him into a choke hold.

My wolf howls in delight in my head that we are, for the moment, winning.

Grinning like a person gone mad, I apply more pressure to Ransom’s airways. The sound of him choking for air only encourages me. People hoot and holler around us, cheering me on, but I ignore them all. My entire focus is on my opponent.

That is until the warm heat licks up my spine and every nerve ending in my body sizzles with awareness. A sensation that only happens when he’s close. My body can sense him before I’ve even laid eyes on him. My head snaps up, searching him out. As if we are magnets, drawn to each other, I find him in less than a second.

He walks down the small hill incline from the house, Pruitt at his side, a content smile on her face. They’re always together. My best friend has grown fond of the demon-wolf-shifter hybrid. He also has a smidge of warlock blood in him, but is such a small amount we hardly ever address it. He listens to whatever she’s babbling on about, but he’s not looking at her. His violet eyes are locked on me. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk as he assesses the situation.

Every time I see him, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. The guilt is so strong, there’s physical pain. There’s always a dull ache, something I’ve tried distracting myself from, but seeing Jax brings it rushing forward until it’s a sharp, unbearable pain.

How can he be smirking right now? How can he seem so… unfazed? Doesn’t he remember what happened?

The triumph I was feeling just seconds ago fizzles out, until all I can focus on is the man I’ve tried so hard to forget the better part of a year. Without thinking of the consequences, my arms loosen on Ransom’s neck.

One second, I’m standing behind my brother, the next he’s behindme. My effort to get away is unsuccessful. Strong hands wrap around my upper arms, keeping me in place. I bring my knee up just like I did before, but he saw it coming this time. One hand catches my leg, the other tightens its grip on my arm.

The look of anticipation on his face is my only warning before I’m airborne.

He whirls around once, gaining momentum, before hurling me twenty feet through the air. My body spins multiple times, blurring my vision, the distant sound of gasps fill my ears.

The tree in my direct path is what finally stops me. The wood cracks against the force of my body colliding with it, so do the bones in my right shoulder and ribs. Pain flares through my body when I finally return to the ground in a heap. Disoriented, I roll over to my back and blink slowly up at the tree branches above. All I can focus on is the ache in my bones, any other concern or sensation momentarily melts away.

It’s a nice reprieve, but it’s short lived.

I’m going to kill Ransom. As soon as I move, he’s going to be roadkill.

Things come back into focus and the sound of shouting somewhere behind me has me turning my head with a groan. Back on the mat we were sparring on, Ransom and Jax stand toe to toe, yelling at each other. My brother’s eyes have shifted into their glowing silver color and Jax’s purple ones also glow as his own beast pushes to the surface.

What the hell is he so upset about?

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