Page 33 of Challenged Mate
My pack came first. Bettering myself for their sake mattered more than my selfish desires, and I was still putting others before myself.
I would mate the Wilds Pack alpha to avoid any punishment falling on the Summit Pack, despite the fact I’d been given a fated mate.
I guessed some lessons were hard to unlearn.
“Fine,” I answered, sounding tired. “Let me change before we head to the athletic complex.”
Chase climbed to his feet, brushing grass off his sweatpants. “I was actually thinking we could spar here, away from everyone else.”
I stood and shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
I walked back to the apartment, quickly changing into dark leggings and a pale purple sports bra. I decided against wearing a t-shirt. I still hadn’t received my things from Colorado, and I didn’t want to get a grass stain on one of my few shirts.
I returned to the meadow to find Chase standing with his arms crossed, eyeing me with a guarded expression as I approached.
“No shirt?”
Was that disapproval in his tone?
“I need to do laundry,” I lied. I stopped walking when I was five feet from him. “What are the terms of the fight?”
“No shifting. No using magic. Just pure, hand-to-hand combat.”
“So, you have the advantage.” I wasn’t completely motivated to spar this morning, but I also wasn’t interested in getting pummeled. Chase was stronger than me. I didn’t stand a chance against him.
“Fine. You can use magic… if you can access it,” he acquiesced with a gleam in his eye.
Obviously, I couldn’t access magic. He knew that.
Whatever.I didn’t have the energy to argue.
“Fine,” I stated. “Let’s get this over with.”
I expected Chase to take his time before he attacked. I’d seen him fight during the Alpha Games. He’d been methodical and patient.
But that wasn’t the case today.
Chase lunged forward, swinging his right arm to land a powerful punch. I barely managed to jump back and avoid the hit.
“Damn, Chase. Take it ea—”
My words were cut short as I leapt to my left to avoid a high kick to the chest.
I lost my balance and had to roll forward or risk falling. I hurried to my feet in time to see another strike heading my way. I turned to the side to avoid the blow, using both hands to shove Chase’s muscular arm up and away.
Already, a bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck.
What the hell is he playing at?
Chase continued his assault with powerful, well-timed punches and kicks. It was only due to my extensive training that I managed to avoid the most damaging attacks. Still, he landed several punches and my arms were covered with angry red marks within minutes.
I gritted my teeth and tried to find an opening to land some punches of my own, but Chase gave me nothing. He was a great fighter.
Chase ducked to avoid the wild kick I aimed at his head. He followed suit with a series of jabs, huffing out, “When are you going to stop wallowing, Blair?”
I defended against his strikes with my forearms, wincing as each one landed. “I’m not wallowing,” I ground out. I threw an elbow up and out to force him to step back, swinging the opposite arm and landing a nice punch on his bicep.
“You’ve been here a week.” Chase spun to avoid another hit. I jumped back to do the same.
