Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
T raining during the Proving period is both the same as the Forging—repetitive, arduous, dangerous—and very, very different. Most notably, we share training with other packs.
Every fucking day .
It makes sense, we need to learn to work together efficiently. But it’s truly a curse to interact this much with Daemos, considering how many of them I’ve managed to piss off. Their Alpha, included.
Stark has been training me privately for two weeks now, and he seems to take profound pleasure in constantly pushing me to the breaking point. I end every day with sore ribs and aching muscles, having gotten my ass handed to me over and over.
As brutal as he’s been, though, I can tell I’m improving. I’m learning something.
Which is a lot more than I can say for any interactions I have with Daegan Prak, the Strategos Gamma who was recalled from the front to take over Egith’s instructor position. He has straw-colored hair and a worried-looking countenance.
Useless is too kind a descriptor for the man. He reminds me of Roddert, one of the other Strategos Rawbonds—rocks for brains. Maybe they’re related.
Today, Strategos and Daemos are together in the Daemos training yard for joint exercise where we’re meant to be tuning into our pack powers. We’ve been at it for thirty minutes.
“Strategos Rawbonds, move to the side,” Gamma Daegan commands, “and?—”
He catches my eye and flinches, stopping his instruction mid-sentence.
This has been our adorable little song and dance for the past two weeks. Every time he needs to do his job and teach us, he defers to me because of my status as his Alpha.
He’s okay with the other Rawbonds, but I’m getting nothing. He doesn’t give me orders, he’s slow to criticize my performance, and when he does, it’s almost tentative, like he’s worried I’m going to snap at him for dominance. Resistance is necessary for strength training.
I need him to be a real instructor, or I’m never going to improve.
“Continue, Daegan,” I grit out from atop Anassa.
He shakes himself as if coming out of a daze and looks back toward the other Strategos pack members. “Move to the side to allow for Daemos to demonstrate their pack powers. Then tap into Strategos foresight abilities and dodge their strikes.”
Stark pipes in. “Daemos Rawbonds, aim for the ground in case Strategos is too slow to dodge. You are not to strike them directly or to use your powers at full strength. Today’s goal is improving each pack’s powers, not hurting each other.”
This is the first time we’ve had a chance to see Daemos powers up close.
The eighteen Daemos Rawbonds circle together, and without warning, wave after wave of magic pulses through the training grounds. They’re drawing force from the very air around them, creating battering rams of energy that punch through the arena like massive fists. Debris flies everywhere.
It’s shit-yourself terrifying.
Allegra shrieks when she almost gets knocked off of her wolf. So much for avoiding direct strikes.
I sense eyes on me and search through the cloud of dust until I spot him.
Jonah.
He’s been circling around me all training session, enjoying this more than he should. Each time I catch sight of him through the tumult of wolves and riders and the clouds of dust, he’s had a spiteful grin on his face.
It was only a matter of time before he found some way to reach me. He’s been skulking around ever since the Purge Trial and Perielle’s death, making snide remarks and skewering me with his gaze across the room. I’d say he’s grieving, but he doesn’t seem the type.
Rather, he’s acting like I’ve broken his favorite toy, so he’s going to break my bones in retaliation.
“Daemos,” Stark calls out, “strike again in 5… 4….”
Mentally, I tap into the pack bond. Everyone else’s consciousness flows through me as we use our powers to create a foresight visualization. In the vision, one of the Daemos riders, a woman with shockingly intimidating shoulders, directs a blow to the left of our line.
“3… 2…”
My mind is focused on maintaining the vision and guiding the pack toward the right when a wolf slams into me from the side.
Anassa snarls and whips her head around to bite at the wolf. Pain spirals up my leg from where we collided, and it’s making it difficult to stay mounted properly. I sag to one side and cling to her fur.
“You keep getting in my way!” Jonah snarls over the thunderous sound of the woman’s blast.
Getting in his way .
He should be halfway across the training yard right now with the rest of his pack. Instead, he’s here, pushing so far into the Strategos side the blast of Daemos power sends dirt scattering over him.
“Get in line, Jonah!” I shout, turning on Anassa to fall back into the flow of my pack. They’re rippling with fine-tuned attention, moving seamlessly around us.
Daemos aren’t so organized or considerate. They surge forward due to the natural rhythms of this exercise, and we’re caught up in the swirling crush of fur and muscle between the two packs.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, commoner !” Jonah shouts at me.
Anassa snarls and turns viciously, like she’s about to eat him.
A massive Daemos wolf shoves past Jonah, blocking him from my vision for a moment. Just then, foresight prickles over my skin and I sense the blow coming.
Too late, though.
Anassa braces herself, but the strike of Daemos power is punishing.
I fly clear off of Anassa’s back and land in the sand, rolling and curling up into a ball to minimize the chance of my limbs being trampled.
Did Jonah just…?
Suddenly, he and his wolf are above me, and it’s no longer a question at all. Jonah’s eyes burn with rage as the second blow comes. I turn to diminish the force of it, but my entire body already burns with pain.
An electric tingling shrieks through me, screaming, you’re about to get hit .
I hold up my hands, but it’s useless.
One of those terrifying blows crashes over me. My head snaps to the side.
Something cracks, and my entire skull explodes in pain. I wish I could stop the blood-curdling scream that wrenches from my throat, but the pain is too much. It rips from me, and the vacant space it leaves behind floods with rage.
Anassa senses my fury. For a thundering heartbeat, I’m certain she’s going to attack Jonah and his wolf.
And then someone else does it for us. Jonah is there one moment and gone the next.
Jonah’s body slams against the wall of the training yard. A second after it happens, there’s a rush of wind, like death just streaked past me and only narrowly left me breathing.
The sheer power I just felt, like a glimpse of something primordial…
Someone is shouting. Gamma Daegan, I think. The wolves from both packs fall back, parting to give me a view of Jonah’s crumpled body where he’s groaning on the ground. My vision swims slightly as blood pours from my nose.
A dark figure is standing over Jonah, shouting. At first, it’s garbled by the ringing in my ears. Then the words come through in a deep, enraged voice.
“—you do not touch Alpha Meryn that way!”
Stark’s chest is heaving. Cratos isn’t beside him, but he doesn’t need his wolf’s sheer size to threaten Jonah. The menacing way his tattooed hands are clenching and unclenching say it all, like he’s imagining them around Jonah’s throat.
“She’s not my Alpha, sir,” Jonah says, but his eyes are averted.
“ Your Alpha gave you an order not to use your magic on Strategos at full strength, and you disobeyed it!” Stark bellows. His entire pack stirs at the echo of his voice. Some of their wolves’ ears fold back, their heads lowering submissively below their shoulders.
Stark’s voice quiets, but only slightly. It’s still loud enough for the whole training yard to hear, laced through with menace.
“You are a powerful Rawbond, but strength is not the only thing we value in Daemos. You’d do well to remember that if you want to make it through the rest of Proving. And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: you touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”
I shakily sit up and cover my throbbing nose with one hand. It warms as Anassa begins to heal it. A hand closes around my shoulder, and I flinch instinctively.
“It’s me,” Izabel says, her dark eyebrows laced together in worry. “Alright?”
“Alright,” I confirm even though there’s hot blood running down my throat. “Should I be embarrassed?”
“No,” Izabel replies.
I grunt. “Mortified, then.”
She lets out a surprised laugh, then offers me a hand and helps me up. Nevah comes over and claps me on the back.
“You fall like an Alpha,” she tells me with a half-smile. Then she waves at my face, at my surely pulverized nose. “That, too. Very… authoritative looking.”
Nevah has been making an effort since the Purge Trial and since the pack decided to forgive me. She sits with us at meals instead of seeking out a solitary table. She hangs out in the common lounge in the evening, and has even started sleeping with one of the Kryptos women, or so Venna says.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I can break yours too, if you want to match your Alpha. I’m sure it’ll be the new hot look at the front.”
“Training’s over,” Stark calls loudly, stalking away from Jonah. His hands are still in fists. Muscles are straining so tight that he looks like he’s about to rip himself in two. As he passes us, he growls, “Alpha, my office,” without even looking at me.
The three of us watch him go for a moment, as does every other person in the training yard.
Then I spit some blood into the sand. “If I turn up dead, you know who to hunt in your dramatic quest for revenge,” I tell the two women, then mentally say goodbye to Anassa.
I follow Stark silently, awkwardly walking through the path he’s cleared through wolves and riders. I hold my head as high as I can while covered in blood and struggling to walk in a straight line. There’s no space to overthink how pathetic I likely look to my fellow Rawbonds right now; I’m too busy bracing myself for Stark’s scolding.
He’s in my head already, telling me that I fucked up by yelling at Jonah, that I should’ve been worried about my own pack, that I made a fool out of myself. Which criticism will he start with?
Our boots echo once we’re inside. Stark’s hands are still tight. His shoulders are practically at his ears. There’s a wildness to him that could mean the criticism I’m going to get is going to be unnecessarily intense.
He slams his office door shut behind us with a bang and I wince.
I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could shrug all of this off and act like nothing could ever hurt me. But when Stark turns to look at me, it’s like my stomach is going to drop from my body and smack to the floor at my feet.
He stares at me for a long moment. Glares, really, with his terrifyingly dark eyes.
Then his shoulders fall. His eyes slide shut. I watch him take a deep breath and feel like he just put something fragile in my clumsy hands without any instruction as to how not to break it.
The moment passes quickly, though.
His eyes snap open, and he joins me on my side of the room. “Turn,” he orders, and I do.
He takes hold of my shoulder briefly and forces me to step toward the round mirror that’s beside me.
I grimace. Anassa might have healed my nose, but it’s set at a horrible angle. My entire face looks different, rearranged by Jonah’s violence. I resist the instinct to reach up and touch it. I resist the sting of tears prickling the back of my eyes.
It’s not just vanity. I mean, it is. It definitely is. But it’s also…
I don’t know who I am , something deep within me whispers, gazing upon my rearranged face. But I do know, don’t I? He called my name only minutes ago. Alpha Meryn. That’s who I am now. It’s who I have to be.
I steady my emotions and clench my jaw. “Guess that’s what I deserve, huh?” I say, voice strong. Dismissive, even. I’m heading off his criticism, taking control of it before it can hurt. “I’m a shit Alpha.”
“Yes,” Stark says instantly.
Ouch. I mean, I know it’s the truth, but hearing it from his lips hurts more than I’d ever admit.
My voice wavers slightly when I reply, “Aren’t you meant to be encouraging me, instructor ?”
The snark falls flat. I can’t summon the teasing energy I usually use to downplay how serious this all is. But Stark doesn’t seem affected. He just stands behind me and stares into my eyes through the mirror.
“I will never lie to you,” he says, voice somber, and the words dig down deep into my bones, carving themselves into my very marrow. Just as I can tell that he often fucking hates me, that it brings him pleasure to break me… this, too, I can tell is true.
A small shiver wracks through me and I turn toward him, deflecting. My shoulder nearly brushes his chest as I do. “Well then. Truth,” I say and touch my cheek briefly, “how bad does this look?”
His dark gaze moves over my features. I ignore the hair on the back of my neck prickling. “It’s awful,” he says simply.
Closing my eyes, I let out a soft laugh. Yep, he’s not going to lie to me.
I’d like to pretend that I don’t care how I look. That I’m a tough warrior woman who doesn’t need to feel pretty sometimes. It would be so great to be above any sense of vanity.
Alas, I’m only human. And, like it or not, looks are important here in this den of vipers.
“Fuck,” I say quietly. I open my eyes, and with a jolt realize that Stark is still staring intensely at my face.
There’s something indecisive at war in his gaze. Then, he says, “I can fix it, if you want. But it will hurt.”
It usually does, where he’s involved. And what’s the alternative, going around with a cabbage for a nose for the rest of my life?
“Break it again,” I hear Anassa say through the bond. “I’ll heal it right after.”
That’s that. I square my shoulders. “Hurt me, then, Alpha Stark.”
The moment the words are out, he moves closer to me and my body lights up with awareness. His calloused, scarred hands close around my shoulders and push me down into the rickety chair next to us. I let it happen and look up at him, my gaze catching on the tattoos on his neck.
He’s a broker of pain .
Stark steps closer. His knee pushes mine open, then he kneels down on the floor, nestled in between my legs so that our faces are at the same height. My hands tighten on the armrests, but not for long—he reaches down and takes my wrists.
He pulls my hands to his chest. I let it happen, too lost in this electric silence to resist or ask or even hesitate. His heartbeat thrums under my palm.
“Hold on to me,” he says, voice rumbling. “Tight, if you need to.”
My throat clicks when I swallow. I stare at my own hands on his chest. Then, inexplicably, I move them to his shoulders.
A better handhold, I tell myself. It has nothing to do with the twitch of his muscles beneath my palms as he lifts his hands to my face.
I expected him to break me apart without warning. It’s what he does in training. Punching my nose straight would not have been out of character. But that doesn’t happen. He’s being almost… kind.
What the fuck is happening right now?
“Take a deep breath,” he says quietly, meeting my eyes. “One, two, three .”
And he breaks my nose back into place.
Tears immediately burst from my eyes, squeezed out as all of my muscles clench in resistance. My nails sink into his skin hard enough to draw blood, but Stark doesn’t even flinch. He lets me rip at him, returning a bit of the pain he just gave me.
Fuck , it hurts. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Worse, somehow, than when it was first broken, maybe because I have no adrenaline to offset the agony.
But as soon as it happens, it’s over. Anassa immediately heals the break, and the pain ebbs.
I sniff and look up. Stark is watching me, his expression as ironclad as Anassa’s wall at her worst. Stupidly, I wish I knew what was going through his head. If he felt like something just shifted between us, too.
Maybe he’s just trying to hide how much he enjoyed that.
Stark says nothing until he’s on the other side of the office and leagues of distance have been established between us. “You need to be better,” he says.
Still pissed, then. I scramble to find the energy to rein in my emotional whiplash. “So you keep telling me,” I snap.
Stark turns to look at me. His brow is pinched tight. “Being Alpha means that you’re in charge now. Daegan is an instructor, but you are still in charge. He’s your Gamma. He reports to you.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you don’t understand that good leaders are able to learn from their subordinates,” he replies coldly. It shuts me right up. “I know the power dynamics are uncomfortable because you need him to teach you, but you also need to get used to giving him instructions. Tell him what you need and be clear about it. Do not expect him to lead you or the rest of the pack. Not while you’re around.”
He allows a long stretch of silence during which his words latch around my ankles and drag me down like an anchor. But at least I’m no longer drifting.
“This is an important thing for you to learn as Alpha,” he continues. “If you can’t master this, your pack is going to fall apart. Can you do it?”
His question demands a serious answer. Back home at the laundry, I basically ran things despite the other workers being older and much more experienced. The place needed someone to take on the burden of keeping things organized, and I had no trouble stepping into that role when necessity required it. All I had to do was strike a balance between snapping out orders and being kind about it.
Surely, the same applies here.
“Yes,” I say finally. “I can do that.”
Stark straightens. “Good,” he says tersely. “You’re dismissed.”
He starts looking over the messages at his desk. I run my fingertips over my set nose and head for the office door. Something unexpectedly has me pausing and looking back, though. He’s leaning over his desk, expression stony, a dark lock of hair hanging over his forehead.
“Thanks,” I blurt. “For the advice. And for… the nose.”
He doesn’t lift his head or look at me, which is a blessing because I’m sure my face is bright red.
I don’t know what the fuck that was. I’ve never thanked Stark before. I never thought I’d be grateful for anything he could do to me.
For me, I mean.
Actually, I was pretty sure he had a murder-wall with a hundred drawings of my face on it, eyes all scratched out.
He raises his hand in acknowledgment, the only indication that he’s heard me, and I leave, trying to ignore the weird disappointment humming through my veins.