5 Looking a Little Stabby

Onyx

“Feeling good, honey?” Mom asks, sliding a plate of banana french toast across the table toward me.

“Yeah.” I take a deep breath. The soft floral scent of Ember lingers in the kitchen and the image of her tongue swiping her fingertips as she licks marshmallow from her skin flashes through my head. In one day, she’s thoroughly under my skin.

I thought she was a dangerous flirtation, just a thrill. But the vulnerability she showed last night, all my protective instincts rose up, demanding that I care for her. Sometimes the wolf part of me can be such a simp.

With a rough sigh, I shove my fingers through my tangled hair. I need to pull myself together. She’s not mine to protect. In fact, I’m quite sure she’d be furious if she knew what was going on inside my head.

“Good morning, Ember,” my mother chimes, causing me to startle.

The girl stands on the edge of the hallway, the arch framing her curves. With emerald waves streaming down her back, face scrubbed clean of makeup, and oversized sweatshirt draping over one shoulder, she looks like a goddess.

“Good morning, Clove,” she responds politely. Hips swaying, she drops into a chair as far away from me as possible. Could I move seats? No, that would be weird.

“French toast? I’ve got bananas and strawberries.”

“Banana sounds good, thanks.”

My mother catches my eye, a pleased curve to her mouth as she hands our guest a plate loaded with sliced bananas over brown sugar custard brioche.

We eat in silence, and my stomach clenches each time I catch her peeking at me through her lashes.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “So what’s on the agenda today?”

Sipping my coffee, I regard her, enjoying the dimple in her cheek as she purses her lips impatiently.

“No plan. ”

Her lips pout as she frowns. In that moment, she looks so much like Slate, I have to cover my grin by taking another drink.

“I can’t just sit here all day staring at you,” she says with a scowl.

“Sounds like a fantastic day to me.”

She huffs and slouches back. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, what would you like to do?” I can feel my mother’s eyes on us.

“I don’t know, Onyx,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But I’ve gotta do something.” She takes one look at my smirk. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

Her cutting glare could have murdered me.

“Look, it’s Saturday and normally we train on Saturdays. Want to head to the training building and check things out?” Hopefully my dad won’t mind a guest.

“Yeah, that sounds interesting, actually.”

We finish eating and my mother adamantly rejects her offer to wash dishes. It’s another instance where Ember seems entirely normal, even kind, and my heart does a flip that I know will only end badly.

Ten minutes later she reappears in her version of training clothes. I’m used to women wearing loose t-shirts and sweats or maybe leggings to train. She wears a skin-tight black tank top and bike shorts that show a stripe of midriff.

Peeling my eyes off her skin, I take a slow breath. This would be easier if Ember wasn’t so appealing. If she was just mean, I could ignore her, but she’s complicated and every time she shows a different side, my defenses start to crumble.

“Ready?” I ask. That dimple reappears in her cheek as she nods.

As we cross the meadow, the three feet between us feels like a chasm, but she walks with her chin thrust upward and her shoulders back. She’s trying her best to not look nervous and I respect that.

But there’s no reason for her to be anxious. No one here would harm her. Mistrust her, give her suspicious looks, maybe, but no one would lay a hand on her. She’s under Slate and Hazel’s protection as their guest, not to mention our pack is generally peaceful - especially compared to the brutal way her pack operates.

She hesitates at the door to the training building. Last time she was here, we were battling and she was dragged out with her hands zip tied. Jaw set, she pushes the door open.

My father looks up. Most of the teenage wolves in our pack circle around him, including my sister. Indigo straightens beside her, puffing his chest out. With a wave of his hand, my father dismisses the students.

“Dad, we were hoping to join training.” I keep my eyes on the ground in a sign of respect. As I walk closer, I’m pleased to see Ember falls a half-step behind me, allowing me to take the lead.

“I don’t think that’s entirely appropriate. Do you?” he says, clearing his throat.

“Sir, I can’t just sit alone in a room the whole time I’m here,” Ember argues, “Let me test myself. I’d like to see how I stack up against your wolves. ”

My father pauses, and I look up to see him studying Ember. She is stone, unwavering under his judicious stare.

“Alright, but no weapons. The Alphas led patrol out a few minutes ago, so you’ll have the place to yourself. But I’ll be out back with the pups.”

“Thank you Dad,” I say, shoulders dropping in relief.

“Can I use a small dagger or maybe a staff?”

Has she lost her mind? I didn’t expect my dad to allow her to participate at all, and now she’s asking to be armed?

“Hand to hand or go back to the cabin,” my father says over his shoulder. With a few motions, he ushers Briar and her friends out of the building.

“Yes, sir,” Ember grumbles to his back.

At the door, he twists and fixes me with a hard look. “Onyx, I’m expecting you to enforce my rules. I’ll be right outside if there is any trouble.”

“Not a problem.” I hope it’s true. Ember scowls as he props the door open, and I suddenly wish that all of our weapons were behind locked doors. At least the firearms are inaccessible. She looks ready to draw blood after what my father said.

Her voice drops as she draws closer to me. “Do we really have to obey him? He seems easy going.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. He’s been our pack trainer for twenty years and I can promise he isn’t remotely easy going,” I caution her.

Ember shrugs, hands flattening along her hips. “My pack’s Delta is always yelling and hitting anyone who doesn’t obey fast enough. Your dad isn’t like that. I can’t see him hurting anyone.”

“You know there’s other ways to gain respect other than violence.”

“Ineffective ways.”

“I don’t think you’ve had very good trainers.”

“Come fight me and find out.”

“Do you have any weapons on your person?”

“No.” The words are light, flippant. Somehow, they ring untrue.

Eyeing her figure, I can’t see where she would have tucked a knife or other weapon, but after several battles and serious injuries, I know to trust my instincts. “Are you lying?”

Her face brightens into a true smile, although it’s more a devious grin than something joyful. I’m still shocked by the difference. She’s stunning. “Come find out.”

It takes all my self-control to not launch myself at her. But the possibility of injury lingers in the back of my mind. “Ember, I don’t want to get stabbed again. You’re looking a little stabby right now.”

That smile reappears, like a punch in the gut. It’ll be impossible to fight her when I’m distracted by it. “Look, I promise I won’t stab you.”

I hold out my hand, the littlest finger extended in a childhood ritual.

“Really? A pinkie promise?” she asks, but she takes my finger with her own. With a light shake, we seal the vow.

The second my hand leaves hers, she attacks. Considering the girl comes up to my collarbone, she is shockingly aggressive.

Her hands grab my shoulder, jerking me forward while her knee comes up to hit the inside of my thigh. Too close to my balls for comfort. Between the pain and the instinct to curl up protectively, my body goes down hard. She shoves me to the floor at her feet, and I roll over to look up at her smug smile with that enticing dimple.

Struggling to draw in breath, I push myself into a seated position. “Damn, I did not expect that.”

Ember gives a little shrug and offers her hand. The need for revenge pulses through me. Instead of allowing her to help me up, I yank her down, hooking my foot behind her ankle and drawing my knees up to pull her feet out from under her as she tries to compensate for the pull of my grip.

With a snarl, she lands on her ass, hands catching her before she falls entirely flat. “Dick,” she growls.

“You didn’t fight fair. Why should I?”

“How was that unfair?”

We sit facing each other, our glares more playful than malevolent. After a few deep breaths, I push up to my feet and offer my own hand. She swats it away and rises gracefully.

“You really think you can handle me?” she taunts, beginning to circle me. My feet move without thought. I may not have the discipline or skill that comes from daily effort, but I was raised by the pack’s Delta, and the basics are built into my blood. When we were kids, I could best Slate easily, though he outpaced me somewhere around age twelve. In the last year, I’ve taken my training seriously now that I hold a pack ranking.

Ember darts in, swinging with a closed fist. My arms are longer than hers and I hold her back with a hand to her chest, right below her neck. Her wide eyes blink at me for a second, and I use the pause to slide my hand up to her throat with a soft grip.

Her mouth opens, eyes dilated. Her expression is distracting, and I run my thumb along her skin. In that instant, Ember leans back and kicks forward, the bottom of her foot connecting with my stomach. Stumbling back, I struggle to find my footing. She doesn’t wait for me to recover.

Teeth bared, she leaps at me. Twirling out of my grasp, she slams a fist into my ribs. Instead of letting her get enough distance for another hard strike, I grab her waist and drop to the mat.

On the ground, I use my size to pin her, carefully restraining her wrists. She growls up at me. “That would never work in a real fight.”

“Maybe,” I reply. “What’s this?”

Gingerly, I slide a small knife from her waistband.

“That’s just for emergencies,” she snaps. “Give it back!”

My brows pinch at the fear in her voice. “Ember, you don’t need it here.”

“I don’t trust anyone here. Don’t you dare,” she snarls .

My grip on her weapon tightens. “After all this time we’ve spent together, you don’t trust me?” I mean it as a joke, but some part of me is actually hurt.

“Why would I?” she spits.

“You said you didn’t have a weapon.”

“I told you to find out.”

“Well, I did. And I think I’ll hold on to this for now. You can have it back afterward. I wouldn’t want you to slip and hurt yourself. Or me.” Her eyes blaze as I set it to the side of the mat. Considering how angry she looks, it’s not safe to let her keep it. I like my body without knives embedded in it, thank you very much.

Ember rolls to get her feet under her and I move with her to stay close, my head dipped toward her’s. The second we are further apart, she will punch me in the face. I can sense that truth with every bit of my intuition. The result is that we stand chest to chest, her dark hazel eyes looking up at me in surprise.

“Is this how training is done in Granite Ridge?” I ask, casually drifting to the side so we can begin to circle one another.

She closes her teeth over her bottom lip and I don’t expect an answer. Finally, she says, “Not really, we do more drills, and then when we spar, it’s usually a competition.”

“Do you guys do that a lot?”

“Yeah.” Her tone is flat and cold.

“Are there prizes?” I ask with a forced grin.

“Usually whoever does well gets dinner, and those that do poorly get the shit beat out of them.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, my feet halting .

Without warning, she surges forward. My shock costs me a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. Throwing my weight onto my back foot, I grab her arms so I can push her aside, but I can’t get a clean hold on her. We go down in a tangle of arms and legs.

Her nails dig into my forearm and she pins me with a defiant sneer. I could knock her off easily. She doesn’t have the weight to hold me down. But the look of triumph in her eyes gives me pause.

It’s not until I feel metal against my ribs, where my shirt has pulled up, that I realize what she’s doing.

“Ember, don’t.” My words are more plea than warning.

Bold hazel eyes stare back and her hand trails up until she grips her knife tight to her breast. “Onyx, just let me have this. I never go without it. It’s for emergencies and I promise not to use it unless my life is in danger.”

Relief courses through me. She isn’t about to disembowel me.

“I think we’re done training.” I try to keep my tone neutral, but disappointment tinges each word.

She pushes back as I sit up until she’s hovering over my lap awkwardly. Already, her knife is tucked away, and she gathers her hair into a twist at the nape of her neck. I find the line of her jaw and the curve of her mouth fascinating as she glances away from me.

“So what about wolves who aren’t ranked? In your pack’s competitions,” I ask, trying to bring back our conversation .

Ember shrugs and sits back on her heels. “Everyone holds a rank in Granite Ridge. If they can’t fight, they don’t have a place with us.”

That doesn’t make any sense. How does their pack operate? “What about seniors?”

“We don’t really have any,” she says, cocking her head at me, as if she’s unsure why I’m questioning her.

“What about kids? What age do they have to start training?”

“Um, twelve-ish? I think I started at ten, actually. But we don’t have a lot of kids. We occasionally take in strays, so there are a few teenagers.”

“Your pack isn’t exactly normal. You know that, right?” I blurt without thinking. Mentally kicking myself, I shove my hand through my hair and brush it away from my forehead.

“So I’ve been told.” There’s that lip curl again. I’m not sure if she’s showing disgust at her own pack or defensiveness at my judgment.

“Do you ever want something different?” I ask, unsure of what I’m trying to gain in this conversation.

“Why is this considered normal?” She questions me, opening her hands in a sweeping gesture. “Just because you grew up with it?”

“Well, no,” I argue.

With a haughty laugh, she tucks a leg under her and rises. Anger shines in her eyes and the tightness around her mouth. “It’s amazing you guys ever stood up to us.”

“Excuse me? ”

Her eyes rove down my body as I stand to meet her. “Your pack is weak.”

Hot anger floods my blood, drowning out the empathy I had for her. My tone is harsh and I can’t help it. “We aren’t weak. And we don’t beat each other half to death and then starve our packmates as punishment.”

“That’s not how it goes,” she says, her arms crossing. A beautiful flush rises up her neck.

“Tell me I’m wrong. You’re always expecting a fight. Why is that?” I push forward, demanding an answer with my direct gaze.

“Of course I am,” she hisses.

“Why?” I won’t let this go. I need to know what drives her.

“Because I have to fight for everything I have. It makes me stronger.” Her pose is regal, chin up, shoulders back.

“You shouldn’t have to,” I argue.

A flash of teeth almost pushes me back a step, but I hold my ground. The green glow to her eyes is threaded through with gold.

It wouldn’t surprise me if my own eyes were that cool blue they turn when I’m upset or turned on.

“Not all of us have a fairytale childhood.”

My hands go to her upper arms, keeping her from turning away from me. She doesn’t seem to notice, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“My pack saw me as a punching bag. If I wasn’t tough, I’d be dead.” The cold resignation in her words makes my heart pound. No wonder she’s so defensive.

Instinctively, I pull her into my chest. She stiffens and with a dry cough, she asks, “So, are we about to fight or fuck?”

My laugh is raw. “No, I’m comforting you.”

“Well, it’s weird,” she protests while settling against me. I could rest my chin on the top of her head if I wanted to. She fits against me perfectly.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask.

“In a minute,” she murmurs. Slowly, her muscles relax.

Taking in a deep lungful of air, I lose myself in her scent. It’s a walk in the meadow in the moments before it begins to storm. Electric, sweet, and heady.

The door bangs open and Ember leaps back, as if we were never touching.

Patrol pours in, chatting while they head for their lockers. Hawthorne nods at me in greeting, his eyebrows rising as he takes in Ember’s flushed skin. Thankfully, he leaves us alone.

With a sigh, I uncap a water bottle and offer it to Ember. She hesitates before taking it, and doesn’t drink until I’ve had half of the second bottle.

“I think I’m ready for a shower,” she says, making a face, “You got your sweat on me.”

The distance between us shrinks as we walk northward toward my home, our arms almost brushing.

The house is quiet. Before we go into our separate rooms, Ember pauses. “Look, I shouldn’t have told you any of that about my pack. I was being kinda emotional and it wasn’t very accurate. ”

The lie stings.

“Really? It seemed true when you said it. And I like hearing about your life,” I say.

Her eyes narrow. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

“Ember,” I say, hoping to stop her from disappearing. It doesn’t work.

She begins to close the bedroom door between us, but before it clicks shut, she says, “Just forget it, Onyx.”