Chapter Seven
“You’re gripping it like you’re about to break it.”
Jarek glanced down at the sai in his hand, then back up at Tamsin, one brow lifting. “That’s usually how things go when I play with toys.”
Her mouth curved, not soft, not sweet—something sharper.
“That’s because you rely on force,” she said, stepping in closer. “This doesn’t. And these sure as hell are not toys.”
Before he could answer, her hand closed around his wrist, warm and steady as she adjusted his grip, turning his hand just slightly, shifting the angle.
“Loosen it,” she added. “You’re locking yourself out of the movement.”
Jarek let her guide him, mostly because he wanted to see where she’d take it, partly because he liked the way she touched him.
“You telling me I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” he asked.
“I’m telling you that there is definitely room for improvement,” she said, not missing a beat.
Then she moved.
Fast.
She stepped inside his reach, hooked the prong of her sai against his wrist, and turned, using his own balance against him. He shifted automatically, but she was already ahead of him, redirecting his weight just enough to show him exactly where he’d gone wrong before releasing him again.
“See that?” she said. “You don’t meet strength head-on. You move it.”
Jarek rolled his wrist once, resetting. “You’re saying I’m the problem.”
“I’m saying you make things harder than they need to be.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“It is,” she replied, already repositioning him. “It also happens to be the right way.”
Aleksy watched from the side, one of the sai balanced in his hand as he tested the weight, his attention fixed on the motion rather than the conversation.
“It requires precision,” he said.
Tamsin glanced toward him, nodding once. “And patience.”
Jarek snorted. “Yeah, you lost me there.”
Her eyes flicked back to his. “No,” she said. “You just don’t like it.”
He grinned. “That too.”
“Again,” she said.
This time, when she stepped in, he didn’t resist the movement. He let it happen, let his body follow instead of forcing it, and the difference was immediate. The motion carried cleaner, smoother, the control shifting in a way that made more sense.
“Huh,” he muttered. “That actually worked.”
Her brow lifted. “Told you.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said. “That was a one-time admission.”
“Sure, it was.”
Aleksy stepped in then, testing the same motion, his execution more controlled from the start, his grip looser, his movement already closer to what she’d shown.
Tamsin watched him for a second, then nodded. “You adjust faster.”
“I watch first,” he said simply.
Jarek huffed a quiet breath. “And judge the rest of us while you’re at it.”
Tamsin’s mouth curved again. “He’s not wrong, though.”
Jarek shook his head, but the edge wasn’t there. Not really.
They kept moving after that, working through the drills, shifting positions, trading off. Tamsin stepped in when needed, corrected where it mattered, and let them work it out where it didn’t.
Jarek found himself watching her more than the weapon.
The way she moved without hesitation. The way every motion had purpose behind it, no wasted energy, no second-guessing. Her hair had come loose again, dark strands falling around her face as she turned, catching the light with every shift.
And her body—yeah. Still a distraction problem. Not because it slowed her down. Because it didn’t. She moved like every curve, every line was part of the motion, not something she worked around.
He dragged his attention back where it belonged before she caught him staring.
“All right,” he said after the next pass. “I’ll admit it.”
She glanced at him. “Careful, don’t hurt yourself.”
“This has its uses.”
“There it is,” she said.
Aleksy set his sai down more deliberately when they finally stopped, his attention still on her. “It forces discipline.”
Tamsin nodded. “Exactly.”
Jarek dropped his onto the mat. “Which is probably why I am struggling with it.”
She huffed a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
The space settled then, the edge of training easing into something looser, something that sat between them instead of pushing them apart.
Jarek rolled his shoulders once, then looked at her properly.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said.
She didn’t deny it. “I like teaching people who can actually learn.”
“Lucky us.”
Her gaze shifted between him and Aleksy, something more deliberate settling there now. “Can I ask you something?”
Jarek tilted his head. “You’re going to anyway.”
She ignored that. “Can I see them? Your boars?”
Jarek’s attention narrowed slightly as he glanced at Aleksy. His expression didn’t change much, but Jarek knew him well enough to see the hesitation.
“They’re not subtle,” Jarek said.
Tamsin’s brow lifted. “I did not think that they would be. I’m okay with that.”
He studied her for a second. “You say that now.”
She stepped closer, not crowding, not pushing, just holding her ground. “I know what you are. I’m not asking blind.”
Aleksy met her gaze. “Knowing isn’t the same as seeing.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.” A pause. “But I’m still asking.”
Jarek exhaled slowly, reading her, looking for any sign she didn’t understand what she was asking for.
He didn’t find it.
“All right,” he said.
Aleksy nodded once.
They stepped back, giving themselves space, the shift already beginning beneath Jarek’s skin as he let go of the human control he kept locked down most of the time.
It started deep. Not surface.
Bone shifting first, a pressure that built and stretched, muscle following, expanding, reworking itself into something built for impact rather than precision. His breath deepened as the change took hold, the world sharpening around him as his senses adjusted.
It wasn’t pain. Not anymore. But it wasn’t easy either.
It was power.
Raw.
Uncontained.
And he let it take him.
Beside him, Aleksy moved through the same transition, quieter, more controlled even in this, but no less imposing as the shift completed.
The room felt smaller when it was done.
Jarek steadied his stance, weight settling differently now, heavier, stronger, his awareness adjusting to the size, the strength, the instinct that sat closer to the surface in this form.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
They watched her. Waited. Because this mattered.
More than it should.
Tamsin didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch. Her gaze moved over them slowly, taking in the full scale of what they were without rushing it, without reacting.
“Well,” she said finally, her voice steady. “There you are.”
Jarek stilled, and Aleksy held. They waited.
Then she stepped forward. Just enough to close the distance.
“I told you,” she added, her tone lighter now, but no less certain. “I’m fine with big.”
Something in Jarek eased.
Enough that he let out a quiet breath, something settling into place as he realized—she wasn’t going anywhere.
And this time—he believed it.
****
She had thought she was ready. She hadn’t been.
Tamsin stood exactly where she had been when they stepped back to give themselves space, her arms loosely folded, her weight settled into one hip like this was just another thing, just another moment she could take in, assess, understand.
It wasn’t.
The air shifted first.
Not dramatically. Not violently. Just enough that she felt it along her skin, a tightening, a pressure that had nothing to do with the room and everything to do with them.
They had stripped before stepping back—efficient, unbothered, practical in a way that told her this wasn’t new, wasn’t something they dressed up or turned into more than it was. Clothes folded, set aside, attention already turning inward before she could let herself linger too long on the view.
She noticed anyway. Of course she did. Because, hello, they were hot, and she was not blind ... or stupid.
Then the change began.
It wasn’t clean or smooth like she might have expected, but it was real.
She watched as Jarek’s body shifted first, his frame expanding, muscle thickening, reshaping beneath skin that didn’t stay human for long. Bone followed, a visible restructuring that should have been horrifying and somehow wasn’t. It was too precise for that. Too intentional.
Too powerful.
Aleksy’s shift came beside him, quieter somehow, more controlled even as his body followed the same transformation, the same expansion, the same reformation into something far larger, far more dangerous than any human form could contain.
Tamsin didn’t move.
Her gaze tracked every second of it, absorbing the process, the reality of it, the truth of what they were beneath everything else.
And then—they were there. Fully shifted. Both of them were massive.
They didn’t just fill the space—they changed it.
Their bodies rose high, easily to her shoulder when she stood, thick muscle layered over bone built for impact and force.
Their hides were dark, coarse, built for more than survival—built for war.
Tusks curved up from their jaws, wicked and sharp, not ornamental, not symbolic, but real weapons that could do serious damage if they ever chose to use them.
And their eyes—God. They were blood red. Not glowing in some unnatural way, not theatrical, but deep, burning, aware in a way that sent a quiet shiver through her.
She let out a slow breath, her head tilting slightly as she really looked at them.
Not just their size or the threat that came with them. But the detail. Could she tell them apart? The answer hit her almost immediately.
Yes. Of course she could. Easily.
Jarek stood just a fraction heavier in his stance, his weight set forward, his presence pushing into the space like he owned it, like he always would. There was a faint marking along one shoulder, not a clean scar but a subtle variation in the hide, something old, something earned.
Aleksy held differently.
More controlled. His weight balanced, his stillness intentional, like he didn’t waste energy even in this form. His gaze tracked her in a way that felt sharper, more precise, even if the size of him was just as overwhelming.
Same species. Same power.
Completely different.
Her lips curved.
“Well,” she said softly, more to herself than them. “That explains a lot.”
Neither of them moved. They just watched her.
And waited.
Tamsin stepped forward. One step. Then another.
Closing the distance they had given her.
“I’m still here,” she said, her voice steady, a little lighter now. “That’s usually a good sign.”
Jarek shifted first, a low sound rumbling out of him, not quite a growl, not quite anything human, but not aggressive either.
Aleksy held, but she saw the way his focus sharpened.
“You were worried,” she said, glancing between them.
She reached out then, slow, deliberate, her hand lifting until her fingers brushed against Jarek first, the texture of his hide rough beneath her palm, warm, solid.
Real.
She didn’t pull back.
“Relax,” she murmured. “You’re impressive, not terrifying.”
Aleksy stepped closer this time, not crowding, but not holding distance either, and Tamsin’s gaze shifted to him, her hand sliding across to rest briefly against him too, learning the difference in texture, in heat, in presence.
“Yeah,” she added, her mouth curving again. “I’m definitely okay with big.”
That earned another low rumble from Jarek, something that felt suspiciously like amusement.
“All right,” she said after a moment, stepping back slightly, letting them have the space again. “Show’s over. Shift back. I’ve got questions, and I’d rather not have this conversation with you towering over me like that.”
They didn’t argue.
The shift back came faster.
Still intense, still physical, but more controlled now, more familiar as their bodies pulled inward, reducing, reshaping, returning to human form with the same underlying power, just contained again.
Tamsin didn’t look away.
Didn’t even pretend to.
Her gaze dragged over them openly this time, unapologetic, taking in every line, every movement as they straightened, reaching for their clothes.
“Wow,” she said, leaning back slightly against the wall, arms folding loosely as she watched them dress. “That’s a hell of a transition.”
Jarek huffed a laugh as he pulled his shirt on. “You’re not even trying to be subtle.”
“Why would I start now?” she shot back.
Aleksy’s mouth curved faintly as he adjusted his jeans, his gaze flicking to hers briefly, something warm and steady sitting behind it.
Jarek moved first once they were dressed, crossing the space between them without hesitation. His hand came to her jaw, tilting her face up just enough before he kissed her, not rushed, not demanding, but sure.
Certain.
“You handled that well,” he murmured against her lips.
She huffed a quiet breath. “I told you I would.”
Aleksy stepped in next, his hand settling at her waist as he drew her slightly toward him, his kiss slower, deeper, his forehead resting briefly against hers when he pulled back.
“You see us clearly,” he said quietly.
Tamsin met his gaze without hesitation. “I always did.”
Jarek’s hand slid to her hip, grounding, steady.
“You’re trouble,” he said.
Her smile came easy this time.
“I might be,” she admitted.
She glanced between them, then toward the door, her expression shifting just slightly, not losing the humor, but adding something else beneath it.
Something real.
“I think I might be in trouble,” she added.
Jarek’s brow lifted. “Yeah?”
Tamsin pushed off the wall, stepping past them toward the door, her voice light, but not dismissing it. “The kind I like.”
Aleksy’s gaze followed her.
Jarek’s grin returned.
And together—they followed her out.