Chapter 8 Sparring
Josh
Bane’s already at the gym when I arrive, leaning against the wall near the entrance, waiting for me. He’s facing the sun and wearing aviator sunglasses, which don’t hide the smirk on his face.
“Ready to get your ass kicked?”
I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”
“Who says I’m kidding?”
Huh. Very good question. “Why do I already regret this?” I wonder out loud. “This is a bad idea.”
“Yep,” he agrees. “But we’re here so we might as well give this a try.”
Starting in human form works best so we can communicate, and I figure he selected a gym at random.
Bane comes from a family of the biggest, baddest alphas around, so I wouldn’t think he needs to spend much time in a gym.
Yet people nod at him and he seems like a regular as he leads me to a sparring area with padded flooring.
“Alright, let’s warm up.”
My warm-up consists of psyching myself up, stealing glances at him, and mimicking his stretches without making it obvious I’m copying him. I’m nervous. I’d hate to completely humiliate myself in front of my mate, but I really am a lousy fighter.
All my nerves disappear, everything disappears, when Bane grabs the hem of his shirt and peels it over his head. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his muscular torso. Dark hair dusts his chest, a tantalizing trail leading down beneath the waistband of his workout pants.
Maybe fate was nuts when it put us together, though it’s not all bad news. My mate is smoking hot.
“Hey, you listening?”
I blink, dragging my gaze away from his body.
“Uh-huh, yeah, sure, whatever you say,” I nod. Then I nod some more. Why am I nodding so much? Does he notice?
“Are you okay? Are you having a stroke? Can werewolves even have strokes?”
“I’m ready,” I say. “Let’s get started.”
“Whatever,” he says after a moment. “Whenever you’re ready, make the first move.”
No time like the present. I lunge forward, aiming a punch at his chest, but the skilled fighter easily dodges, sidestepping with a fluid grace that is grudgingly impressive. Even in human form, he’s a predator, all lean muscle and calculated movements.
But he isn’t a humble predator.
“Wow, you really do need help,” he chuckles. “Did you notice how I said make the first move, not attack me? Don’t come out swinging, not in a one-on-one fight like this.”
“Okay, let me try again—whoa!”
Suddenly, I’m in a headlock.
“Don’t relax while you’re on the mat,” he advises.
I squirm helplessly in his hold, feeling incredibly foolish. The indignity lasts a few torturous seconds, and I leap away when he releases me.
“Warn me next time,” I complain.
“Attacks don’t come with a warning.”
“Okay…” Can’t argue with that. Dammit.
“Be ready for anything, Fielding.”
To demonstrate, he feints left and then quickly strikes right. I barely manage to block, and the impact of his fist against my forearm sends shockwaves through my whole body.
“Thanks for the tip,” I reply, gritting my teeth as I lunge forward again.
He counters so fast that I’m down on the mat in the blink of an eye, the wind knocked out of me.
Whatever indignant remark is forming on my lips dies as he offers me a hand up. His arm flexes as he hauls me effortlessly to my feet. Just as I’m savoring our joined hands, he lets go, ending the contact as quickly as it began.
“Keep going. Sometimes getting your ass kicked over and over is the best way to learn,” he encourages… I think it’s encouragement.
“That sounds like something winners say to comfort losers, not actual truth.”
“I’m the youngest of four.” He dances around me, surprisingly light on his feet as we both look for an opening.
“All my siblings wiped the floor with me for years. Winning was out of the question, so lasting longer and longer was all I could hope for. It’s how I learned, and it motivated me to fight harder. ”
“Oh.” Screw fighting, I’d rather learn how the runt of the litter transformed into the beast before me. “How did you finally beat your siblings?”
He opens his mouth to answer, then shakes his head. “Less talking, more fighting. You aren’t capable of multitasking yet.”
Frustrated, I throw myself into the fight, doing my best to pin the bigger man under me. That will show him.
We dodge and weave around each other. Every time I get close, he dances away or deflects the blow. He connects more often, but I don’t stop. I just keep coming, not backing down.
“Alright,” he laughs, finally breathing hard. “Now this is almost a real fight.”
Not exactly glowing praise but it fuels me on. When he gains control for a moment and pushes me back, I freaking growl and tackle him to the ground. Surprised by me, the move works and we both go tumbling down.
As we roll and twist, the solid muscle of his chest collides with mine. Our limbs tangle. The scent of his aftershave mixed with a hint of sweat intoxicates me, and it sends heat pooling low in my stomach.
“Gotcha.” The battle ends as the alpha gets on top and bears down on me, trapping me in place.
Losing doesn’t bother me. It feels like winning.
The larger man pins me to the mat, his muscular body pressed against mine, his thighs straddling my hips. God, he feels good. I arch up, desperate for more contact. Thinking I’m trying to buck him off, he pushes more of his bulk against me to hold me down and our bodies slot together perfectly.
Gold eyes bore into mine. For once, the usual disdain isn’t there. My breath catches in my throat. He almost looks as heated as I feel.
If I press a bit closer, he’ll feel my hardening arousal. And from the way he adjusts and inches his hips back, I think I’ll feel the same evidence of desire.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly we’re leaning in, our lips mere inches apart. Warm breath ghosts across my face, and I shiver in anticipation. Would his kiss be skilled and easy, or would it be all teeth and tongue, a clash of wills just like our sparring?
The weight over me eases and then vanishes entirely as Bane rears back and leaps away. I stay on my back, catching my breath and missing the contact between us.
By the time I calm down and get back on my feet, it’s like the moment between us never happened. Bane appears the same as always, distant, impatient, mildly pissed off.
Did I imagine things?
“Let’s step it up,” he grunts.
“Am I really ready for—”
He swings and I stumble, throwing myself away from the quickly incoming blow. Okay, guess he’s raising the difficulty level.
Bane effortlessly kicks my ass. Knocking me to the mat with ruthless precision over and over, all while touching me as little as possible and never staying close for long.
Why did I think fighting was a good idea again?
This sucks.
~
“Can we take a five-minute break?” I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. “I need to catch my breath.”
Bane rolls his eyes. “If you want to improve, you have to change your attitude.”
My body is tired, but my mind is active, racing around in circles. I go back and forth on whether Bane felt the chemistry between us too. Given how he closed off and distanced himself, it seems like our sparring excited him too. But why is he so opposed?
Well, besides the obvious reasons. Between our mutual hatred, clashing personalities, and my scrawny ass, I’m probably the last person he wants to be attracted to. I know the feeling.
“Let’s go, Josh. You train until I tell you to stop. You should be grateful I’m here at all.”
“Fine. I’ll take a break on my own then.”
“Pathetic,” he spits.
“Screw you.”
“I’m helping you. I’m calling the shots. Keep. Going.”
“No.” I won’t back down.
Bane scoffs, glaring at me with disgust. “Fine. Why don’t we call this whole thing off? There’s no point. You’re hopeless.”
He’s insulted me dozens of times during the past week. I’ve insulted him right back. This is hardly the worst thing he’s said. But this time, it’s different. I know who’s saying those words.
My true mate is calling me hopeless.
It’s too much.
“Fine with me,” I say. “I’m done.”
I storm out of the gym without another word.
Who did I piss off in a past life to get saddled with this jackass for a mate? And what was I smoking to think spending more time together would solve everything? This is Bane Blackwood we’re talking about, the same jerk who destroyed my bike when we were younger.
When Mom and I moved to Concordia, I brought my bike with me. It had been a necessity in the human world since I couldn’t zip down to the store in my wolf form when we ran out of milk. Not without animal control being called and panic spreading about wild wolves roaming the streets.
Some wolves here thought it was silly that I rode a bike instead of using my own four legs. Bane was one of the wolves who disapproved. He crushed the bike and set it on fire, but the faintest trace of his scent remained under twisted metal and ash. I doubt he’s even aware that I know it was him.
Why did I think we could start over?
“Fielding! Wait up!”
Bane’s voice calls out behind me as I head down the sidewalk away from the gym. I keep walking.
“Fielding, hold on a second.”
He catches up to me, and I sigh and stop.
“You’re a beginner,” he says stiffly, staring down at the ground. “And I pushed you too hard. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“You were right. This was a mistake.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t give up, not because of me.”
“It’s not your fault.” That honor falls to me. “I never should have insisted on this.”
“Josh, come on…” Posture rigid and hands clenched tightly at his sides, this may be the most strained, awkward pep talk in history. But I think he’s sincere. If he wasn’t, he would have let me storm away without a backward glance.
But that doesn’t mean we should keep sparring. We’ve done enough fighting.
“It’s okay. We both know I’m not cut out for fighting.”
“Well, yeah,” he agrees instantly.
I blink. “I thought you were apologizing or trying to get me to change my mind.”
He shrugs. “You’re right. You suck at fighting. If you want to get better, you should. But you’ll never be a strong wolf.”
Wow. It shouldn’t hurt so much, him saying what I know he’s thinking. It still stings.
“See you around, Bane.” I turn to leave, resolved to go back to how things were before. Back to watching him from afar, glimpsing him with his dates as he cruises through town. That seems safer.
“Hold on.” Bane blocks my path again. “You’re not a fighter. So what? Why do you even care? Your witch side is stronger. That’s what you should focus on, your magic.”
I wince and let out a bitter laugh. “Sounds great. Except I don’t have magic.”
“Yes, you do. My instincts don’t lie.” Bane doesn’t miss a beat. He stares me right in the eyes and announces, “You’re a witch.”