Page 21 of The Wolf and the Chimera
“This is enough wolves,” she whispered, “to deter even the High Witch.”
She wasn’t wrong. Her observation reframed the situation, and I loosened my grip on her hand. I ran my thumb over hers in silent gratitude.
We reached an archway that led to an iron staircase. The floor transformed into cream textiles, and a ridiculously large, expensive and oddly shaped light fixture hung overhead. Lyall turned left, which led to a dining hall that made my pack’s seem small.
Rows and rows of tables, each filled with far too delicate seats and lacy table runners, filled the space. Lyall walked directly toward the table set against a huge wall of windows, which was placed on a small but noticeable platform. Back home, Dad and I ate among our pack.
It only made sense that Lyall liked to eat above them.
Rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, I pulled out a chair for Elle and sat beside her. Much to my annoyance, Kieran took the seat opposite her, while Kalli and Lyall took the heads of the table. As Elle placed her napkin in her lap, Kieran tracked her every move.
“Want to take a picture?” I growled.
He continued to stare at her. “That would be great. Maybe studying it would help me figure out what she did wrong in a past life to end up shackled to you.”
I clenched my jaw to keep from snapping back at him.
“Kieran,” Kalli warned.
“My name is Elle,” my mate interrupted and stuck out her hand to Kieran. “I’d appreciate if you stopped staring.”
He took her hand and slowly shook it. I fought the urge to snap his damn arm off.
“Why?” he taunted. “You don’t like to see your mate upset?”
“No,” she replied with a sweet smile, “because your continued staring at me is creepy.”
Kieran threw his head back and laughed. “Fair enough.”
“You’ll fit in just fine around here,” Lyall promised Elle.
I rolled my eyes. As a chimera, Elle was an anomaly, yet she always fit in wherever she found herself. It was me, son of the Sovereign’s mate, who would have a tough time navigating this place.
Chapter Seven
Elle
“Keep your hands up,” Ryder saidagain.
Though my arms ached from exhaustion, I did as he asked. We faced each other in the corner of the estate’s spacious gym. Barefoot, we stood on mats designed to soften the blow of one’s fall, or, in my case, mymanyfalls. To Ryder’s credit, not one of them had hurt—every time he swept my leg or maneuvered me to the ground, he cushioned my landing.
Weight machines, dumbbells, and other torture devices occupied the space to our left. A track hung from above us, and I looked at it longingly. Running, I could manage. Ilikedrunning.
Combat was not in my nature.
At least no one is here to witness your epic failure.
Ryder had insisted on training at a horrifically early hour. I suspected he didn’t want anyone to see how weak his mate truly was.
“Ellie.” Ryder sighed. “Are you even listening?”
“Yes,” I snapped, though I hadn’t been. “Stay on my toes, keep my knees softly bent, left foot slightly forward, and keep my handsup.”
He’d fired off the instructions so many times, I could’ve recited them in my sleep.
He raised an eyebrow. “Then why are your hands down by your chest again?”
Because we’ve been going at this for over an hour.
