7. Tristan

Tristan

Chapter 7

I was being punished. There was no other description for what was about to happen. I was clearly the wrong kind of alpha for Dylan—according to his dad, anyway. Did he know what his son did to me last night? My guess was not, because I had a feeling I'd already be six feet under if that were the case, though it was clear he suspected something. The man was intense.

Keeping my cool, cocky persona was easy. I was born to cover up all those tough-to-process emotions with sarcasm and swagger. I kept my chin held high as I pivoted toward the ring. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I shoved my way through the crowd, their bodies pressed in close on all sides, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. I refused to be intimidated.

The twins were already in the cage waiting for me. They were like mirror images, but I couldn't tell which one was real and which was the reflection. Did it matter? They were both about to inflict pain, I had no doubt.

You ready? I asked my wolf. He simply growled in reply. I could feel him coiled tight inside, ready to unleash hell.

He was pressing at me hard, desperate to get out and get this show on the road, but I kept a tight leash and eased him forward just enough to borrow his nose. Drawing the air deeply into my lungs, I snorted, skeptical. "Kangaroos? Seriously?" I only recognized the scent because my moms had taken me to the zoo when I was a kid.

"What's the matter? Never boxed a roo before?" I knew the one who'd spoken was Oliver because he was dressed in shorts and had his hands wrapped in tape, prepared for the fight, while his brother Noah was improvising in his boxers and bare knuckles. They were both smirking, brown eyes twinkling. Their skin was deeply tanned, their messy hair sun-bleached blond. It was really too bad, because I had a feeling that if we weren't about to kick the shit out of each other, these guys would've been fun to hit the bar with.

They bounced side to side on the balls of their feet, and I felt like I was seeing double. I blinked hard, trying and failing to dislodge the confusion it caused. "Stay still, would you?" I muttered, and they both smirked.

I'd watched the other fights, so I caught on to the gist of how this was going to go. We fought first as humans until first blood was drawn, then devolved into our beasts. The fight wasn't over until there was either an injury serious enough to need immediate medical attention, loss of consciousness, or worst-case scenario, death. That last match had made me nervous, though. The entire thing was over without a single drop of blood. How was I supposed to compete with that? I wasn't a trained fighter.

I turned my head to glance toward the raised platform. From where I was under the spotlight, it was hard to see Dylan in the shadows, but I could feel him there. I had a suspicion I would always be able to feel him, no matter where he was, that I could find him simply by following this tug from deep inside my chest. But I still wished I could see him, let my eyes devour every inch of his flesh, followed by my fingers—and my tongue…

I had to be careful, because this yearning could lend me strength, but it could just as easily become a distraction, and right now, I needed to be present here in the ring. Even a tiny mistake could be fatal. I turned back around and lowered into a crouch.

Mr. Caruso gave the go-ahead, and the fight began. The twins were clearly in tune with each other, and moved as one unit, coming at me from both sides. It was a struggle for me to keep an eye on both of them at the same time, my eyes darting back and forth. I found myself stepping back to keep space between us.

No running, my wolf sneered, thinking I was trying to retreat.

Don't worry. I'm just trying to bide my time, wait for an opening. He didn't seem convinced, and I didn't blame him. I was out of my league. I wished I'd had a chance to see them fight. I had no clue what to expect of their technique.

At some unspoken signal, the twins crossed in front of me. They clasped hands, and Noah twisted and swung Oliver around through the air. Suddenly, where I'd thought they were too far to attack, this doubled their reach. With the extra momentum, his leg sliced across, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face.

"Fuck," I muttered, staggering back. Tasting the coppery tang of blood, I wiped my thumb across my lower lip and brought it back to see the proof. They scored first blood.

Part of me was disappointed I hadn't even gotten in a hit yet, but the rest of me realized how futile this whole thing might be. These guys were far better than me. I would've had a hard time against just one of them, and they'd obviously been trained at fighting as a duo. But did being outmatched mean I was going to give up? Hell no.

Blood officially spilled, they shifted fast, faster than I was prepared for. Dropping their shorts and boxers to keep them from shredding, they stood to a new height, well over my six feet tall. Reddish-tan fur sprouted from their bodies, their faces changing shape, ears lengthening, long, powerful tails extending behind them. My jaw was probably still gaping in awe when one of them bounded straight up to me, then leaned back on his tail to kick both large feet straight at my chest. The impact was like a sledgehammer. I flew back, air leaving my lungs as my feet left the mat, and my body slammed into the barrier, rattling the whole cage.

Gasping, I clutched at my chest, which burned like a motherfucker when I tried to draw breath. I was pretty sure my ribs were broken. "Fuck me," I moaned, getting back to my feet.

Jude ran up to the cage behind me. "Move faster," he barked at me. "And would you hurry up and shift already?"

"I'd like to see you do better," I snarled.

His gaze darted over my shoulder, eyes widening. "Duck!"

I did, clawed paws punching where my head had been just moments ago.

Running, I shifted to my wolf while on the move, bones snapping, ligaments stretching. Unfortunately, my underwear paid the ultimate price for my inattention. Good thing I didn't mind showing off my junk to an audience. White fur lengthened, teeth sharpened, until I finally dropped down onto four paws, already in a sprint toward the far side of the ring, trying to put distance between me and the threat. Too bad that was impossible with two of them. It didn't help that they could leap from one end of the mat to the other in one hop. Shit, I was so damn screwed.

My turn, my wolf told me, drool dripping through bared fangs as he spun around. I handed over control to my beast's instincts, though kangaroos were way out of our wheelhouse. How different could it be to hunting deer? Predator wins over prey every time. Right?

Our lower center of gravity put us below their clawed forelimbs. Now it came down to dodging their kicks. While they were strong, they weren't terribly agile, and after getting knocked around a few times, we figured out that they couldn't change direction once they were in the air, so it was all a matter of timing.

Left. No, right! Quick, bite! I was the worst kind of back-seat shifter.

Shh! my wolf hissed at me. I know what I'm doing.

And it certainly seemed he did as we spun around one of the kangaroos, our jaw closing around its tail. It was dense, all muscle, almost like a human's thigh. The short pelt was prickly against our tongue, and the blood that flowed into our mouth was a bit gamey. It tasted more like cow than my burger last night did.

Thanks to the roo's rigid spine, he couldn't twist around to dislodge us. He was built for power, not agility, and he needed the tail for walking and balance. Jaw locked on, we dragged him across the mat, keeping his body between us and his brother, using him as a sort of shifter shield. He let out a growly grunt, finally ducking forward and pushing off with his powerful back feet. We lost our footing, dragged away from the cage wall—and it left us exposed to an attack from the remaining twin.

He didn't hesitate to make his move, leaping in and clawing and biting at us. Kangaroos might've been herbivores, but they had sharp incisors at the front of their jaws, long enough to get through our fur. My wolf let out a yelp at the piercing sting. We were forced to let go of the tail and dart away to avoid further injury. Blood soaked our fur, stark against the snowy-white pelt.

The twins, one now leaving a trail of blood from his injured tail behind him, tried their best to corner and surround me, leaving no chance of escape.

Our sides were heaving to catch our breath. Fatigue was starting to drag at our body, adrenaline burning through our energy stores. We could only keep this pace for so long, but we had to win. Losing meant giving up our mate. Even now, I could still scent him, so damn close. Dylan was ours. Fate had deemed it, and no one would stand in our way. Vesta would not have sent me here unless she'd seen that I had a chance of winning.

Lowering on our front paws, we prepared to lunge.

I felt Jude through the cage at our back. "Don't fight hard—fight smart," he instructed, and it knocked something loose in my brain. I was going about this all wrong.

My wolf, clever as he was, functioned primarily with a survival instinct. Me? I didn't see it as black and white, alive or dead. I didn't mind a little pain if it meant getting what I wanted. So the next time one of the roos leaped at us, and my wolf tried to dodge out of the way, I resisted him. It took my whole will to stand still, our legs shaking in the tug-of-war. The full moon added to his strength, and if he hadn't trusted that I would do what was right for our mate, he probably would've won.

The kangaroo hadn't expected us to stay put; he'd been hoping to drive us to the right, straight toward his brother. Instead, we braced for his full body weight and took the hit. It brought him far too close to be able to kick. Something snapped in our shoulder, but I was feeling no pain—not yet, anyway. Right now, all I felt was a sense of triumph as we rose up on our hindquarters and closed our teeth around the kangaroo's neck, sinking into tender flesh. Twisting, we used our body to throw his center of balance off, taking him sideways to the mat.

He went down hard, an involuntary squeak forced from his throat. When his brother flinched, ready to come to his rescue, my wolf let out a low, menacing growl and shook our head, opening the punctures wider. He froze on the spot, before quickly shifting back to his skin, hands raised in surrender.

"Please," he whispered, "not my brother." I could still hear him even as the mob outside the cage roared its approval, chanting for the man's death. Reveling in the bloodshed. Fuck, these monsters made me sick. "You win, okay? I forfeit. Just please don't kill him."

A sliver of doubt slithered through me. Could I take him at his word? I didn't even know if competitors were allowed to forfeit. They didn't seem the granting-mercy type. But the man before me lowered to his knees, fully prepared to beg if he had to. There were a few boos from the crowd, nasty jeering, but he refused to look away. He bared his throat to me in submission.

I wasn't here to kill anyone. I just wanted my mate, who'd begged for a competitor's life to be spared already this evening. He did not respect senseless violence—and neither did I.

Let him go, I said, and I swore I felt relief from my wolf as we opened our jaws and backed away. His brother scampered over and put his hands over the wound, his skin painted red in seconds. "Someone get a doctor!"

Injured and bleeding out as he was, it wasn't safe for him to take his skin, but I could see the kangaroo's brown eyes focused on me. He would make it, but he would probably have some wicked scars.

As the adrenaline receded, we were left shaky and exhausted. I needed sleep bad. Our eyelids were so heavy, dragging us down toward sleep. I didn't care where I was, could barely hear the crowd anymore. But then Jude was there, digging his fingers into our fur and tugging enough to sting, and our eyes snapped open. "Hey, brother. How about you take your skin. You have a victory to celebrate."

It didn't feel like I'd won. It felt like I'd gone toe-to-toe with a semi-truck and lost.

Shifting back to my skin hurt like hell. Every cut reopened, bruises blooming across my torso. I whimpered through clenched teeth.

"I bet it smarts," Jude said, examining the bite wound on my back where I could feel blood dripping toward my bare ass.

"Well, it doesn't tickle, that's for sure." I grunted as I prodded at my swollen face. Jude grabbed my shoulder, and I choked on a shout as he twisted my arm, popping the joint back into place.

He was grinning, clearly energized by the fight. "You'll live. Now, let's go find out what you won." I didn't want to remind him that this was only round one. I suspected the only thing I'd won tonight was the chance to do this all again tomorrow.

When I walked through the crowd this time, there was no need for me to shove. They parted for me willingly, leaving space for me to move, albeit slowly as I limped forward. A few of them even reached out and patted me on the back. It seemed I had earned the respect of a few. Though it was impossible to miss the wary suspicion from others. I was not one of them.

The path led all the way to the stage where Mr. Caruso was waiting. Dylan was standing behind him, at such an angle that I felt comfortable watching him for a brief moment. I kept my expression neutral, even as my heart soared, my soul reaching for him. I had to put my faith in fate, and in Vesta, that the competition would be worth it in the end—but if I saw an opportunity to grab him and run, I would take it.

"Fair enough," Mr. Caruso said, offering a slow nod of grudging acceptance. "Same time tomorrow. Be here."

As he walked off the stage, Dylan stood there a moment longer, his eyes roaming down my body. I had no doubt I looked the worse for wear, and there was a hint of concern in his gaze, but there was likewise a flare of heat.

Please don't get a boner, please don't get a boner, I chanted in my head.

"Dylan," his father snapped.

"Coming," he said, jogging to catch up. He looked back over his shoulder one last time. And it was that glimmer of his amber eyes, that tilt of his lips, that would sustain me through the night. I would dream about him tonight, I knew that for sure.

Jude led me outside on numb legs. I was moving on autopilot. He steered me into the passenger seat of the truck where we'd left it at the curb and grabbed a blanket from the back to drape over me, covering up my nudity. Humans had laws about that. He tossed my clothes in at my feet before shutting the door and moving around to the driver's seat. The thought of trying to lift my arms over my head to get the shirt on had me leaving them right where they were. To hell with it.

Unfortunately, Jude wasn't the best driver in the world, like he'd learned by reading Driving for Dummies, but he got us back to the motel in one piece. It was the most I could ask for after a night like this. Wrapping the blanket around my waist, I barely managed to stumble into the room before flopping onto the bed face first, legs hanging off the end. The smell of laundered sheets was foreign after all the blood and sweat. It was the trigger that signaled it was time to rest. I had about 18 hours to sleep, and I was going to need every minute of it.

Before sleep could claim me, I turned my head to the side to look at Jude where he'd sat down on the other bed. "Jude, I need you to go home."

He reared back like I'd slapped him, startled. "What?!"

"You need to tell Shan what's going on. He's expecting us back, but I can't leave. Not yet. He's my fated mate. I need to see this through."

Jude was shaking his head. "You can't stay here by yourself. You saw what that place was like. You need someone watching your back. You need me!"

I reached out my hand, my shoulder protesting, to squeeze his knee. "I'll always need you, Jude. You're my pack brother. But right now, I need you to do this for me. Can you imagine what Shan would be going through if we didn't come back? After everything he's been through. We barely avoided a war with Thorn's pack not even two years ago."

Jude's face crumpled. The tension that had been engrained in his body since we left camp—gods, was that just yesterday morning?—had reached a pinnacle. He was torn. His loyalty to me told him to stay, to protect me to the bitter end, but he also knew I was right. Shan needed to know, and there was no way to reach him by phone.

It broke my heart to send him away, but in truth, I wasn't just doing this to spare our Alpha. A small voice whispered in the back of my mind. If something happened to me here in the shadowy depths of the city, I refused to take Jude down with me. This was not his sacrifice to make.

"Okay," he finally agreed. "But I'll be back. Give me two days."

I hoped I lasted that long.