Plopping down onto my stomach on the bed, I buried my face in the pillow and screamed out my anger and frustration. I refused to cry, since it would solve nothing.
A light rap at the door pulled me away from my pity party, though I didn’t bother to answer. I didn’t want to see anyone. My wishes didn’t matter since the door opened anyway.
My face still buried in the pillow, I knew exactly who’d walked in. My instincts were flashing red alert, warning me of danger, although not the physical kind. If I let him, Cole would take over my entire life—to keep me safe, of course. I’d be a spun-glass ornament, put on the shelf high above the grubby fingers of those hell-bent on hurting me.
“Yeah, what?” A strong sense of déjà vu washed over me. This morning was happening all over again, except this time I had a full stomach and a lot more irritation. I wasn’t groggy from broken sleep. My mind, however, still reeled from all the changes.
“We have a sparring session, remember? I trust your stomach is up for it.” A hint of amusement slipped into his voice, Carefree Cole here to tease me. I debated hitting him with my pillow and before I could stop myself, I followed through on the thought.
Whap. The soft, downy pillow smacked into his shoulder, and for a moment, I lay on my stomach, arm stretched out behind me as horror filtered through my brain. I’d just whacked a werewolf. Even worse, the alpha werewolf. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Deciding to swagger my way through the blunder, I muttered, “Yeah, I’m ready to kick your ass. Hope you don’t mind getting beaten by a girl.”
Annnd that right there was not helpful. Taunting the big bad wolf wasn’t a great way to stay in one piece. I was a full-blown idiot.
A soft chuckle raised the hairs on my arms and my body tensed. Flight or fight? Was Cole amused or had I just dug my own grave deeper? He plucked the pillow from my nerveless fingers and I dropped my arm to my side.
“Let’s see how cocky you are on the mat.” He shifted on the mattress and the heat from his hand hovering above my back burned me, yet he didn’t touch me. Afraid of how I’d react? No, that didn’t make any sense. So far he hadn’t spent much time caring about my response to his high-handed behaviour.
“It sounds like the whole pack is here. Why? You need an audience to perform?”
A choking sound came from Cole and I smiled into the mattress. “No, I don’t. After the defeat of a nest, we have a celebratory feast to solidify the strength of our pack bond. I prefer to have you all to myself . . . while we spar.”
I turned my head, brows furrowed as I tried to decipher his mood. Back to flirting? Nothing about Cole was straightforward, not even the careless grin that didn’t fool me. Something was churning in his mind and I didn’t like it.
“What’s going through your head?” I knocked his hovering hand away, tired of the evasions and half-truths. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the bed, keeping a healthy distance between us. “Why claim me as your mate? Who is Maxwell Winter and why does he want me?”
Cole scratched his chin, his eyes flicking to the side. Deciding on which lie to tell? A muscle ticked in my jaw while I clenched my teeth, determined not to screech at him.
“As I told you, Maxwell Winter is one of the sires. He wants you because you were given to him as a blood slave. I claimed you as my mate to stall him. Now come, you need to be stronger.” He stood and held out his hand. This newfound need to touch me grated on my nerves.
With an irritated sigh, I jumped up and skirted past him towards the door. “That still just gives me the bare minimum of details. I didn’t give myself to him as a blood slave, whatever the hell that means. And how do you know this? You best friends with the vampires now?” I strived for a bored expression, hoping he wouldn’t see my worry. So much about Cole was unknown to me. Maybe this was all a deception meant to keep me under lock and key until the vampire showed up to whisk me away. I had no way of knowing the truth.
“A blood slave is a human who willingly gives blood to a vampire. Not all vampires snatch their food from the streets. Instead, they prefer to keep a stable on hand.”
“And he thinks I was one of these delusional humans? I don’t think so,” I scoffed, disgusted at the thought of humans bending their necks for monsters.
Cole stalked closer and I refused to give ground. “The scent on you. It’s a sire’s mark and the reason why the other vampires are obsessed with you. The mark enhances your natural . . . flavour.”
Crossing my arms, I glared at him. “And how long have you known this? Since we first met? That’s why you’ve been hanging around me, isn’t it? You knew vampires would keep attacking me.”
He reached past me and opened the door, nudging me out of the way. “The scent is hard to miss, yes. Now come.”
He gave me no chance to respond unless I wanted to yell at his back. Fury ripped through me and I almost gave into the urge. If I’d been in my rational mind, I would’ve marvelled at how much anger one man could generate in me. Instead, I wanted to pummel him until he begged for forgiveness.
Marching along the hallway, I glared a hole through him, my fists clenching and unclenching. All I needed was for him to drop his guard while we sparred and I could sucker-punch him. I’d learned to fight dirty, and I planned on using all my tricks.
Sounds of laughter and talking drifted up the stairs. I straightened my shoulders, refusing to be intimidated by his pack. If they didn’t like me or they resented my presence, tough. I wasn’t here to make friends.
Cole led me away from the rambunctious noise, past the dining room, the foyer, his study, and another room I couldn’t identify. How much space did one person need? I closed my mouth, pressing my tongue against the back of my teeth so I wouldn’t say something stupid. The hallway turned and still we hadn’t reached our destination. Holy hell, exercise would be a breeze in this place. I just needed to hike once or twice a day from one end of his home to the other.
He stopped in front of an open doorway and gestured for me to enter. No one else was here. Just me and the alpha in an isolated part of his home. Maybe I should’ve been scared but I was too irritated for rational emotions.
The entire floor was covered in cushioned mats. Three punching bags hung from the ceiling to our left, a stationary bike sat in the far corner, and disk weights ranging from fifty to a hundred pounds took up two racks. A weight bench with an empty bar waited. And it could keep waiting if it expected me to lift a hundred or more pounds. I didn’t have that kind of upper body strength.
Practice sticks and swords hung on the wall near the weights.
“Any specific style?” I asked, swinging my arms to hug myself, not because I needed the comfort, but to start my warm-up. My limbs needed to be limber and my blood flowing if I expected to keep up with Cole. I’ve seen him fight several times now and had no illusions about the chances of a human overpowering a werewolf.
Cole grinned, his eyes glowing amber, and shucked off his T-shirt, tossing it to the floor. My stomach fluttered in anticipation. He wouldn’t go easy on me. “Nope, do whatever lets you win. I’ll keep teeth and claws to myself.”
I quirked my lips upwards, eyeing him for a weak point. His lack of flexibility might work in my favour, however his speed and strength would work against me. Of course the same could be said about vampires and yet I held my own against them. Should I let Cole make the first move or should I attack first?
Cole decided for me. He swung his arm towards me, his fist clenched. I ducked and skittered to the right. He anticipated my move. His leg swept out, connecting with my ankle, knocking me off-balance, but I remained upright. With a smug grin, I flicked my fingers in a “bring it” motion. He chuckled and shook his head.
“Won’t be so cocky when I have you flat on your ass,” Cole said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He swung out at me again, playing with me. He wouldn’t use the same move again, but just in case, I danced out of his way and then darted in close.
His hands came up to protec
t his face, meaning I could use my smaller size to my advantage. With my forearm, I slammed into his exposed side and jabbed my fist at his other side. A slight exhale from Cole accompanied my moves. It was like hitting a cement block.
Pulling back out of his reach, I quickly checked my knuckles. No blood and they didn’t appear broken. Were all werewolves so tough or had I lucked out and found the only one with steel bones?
I blinked and Cole disappeared. Son of a bitch, where’d he go? A faint sound behind me made me whirl and I ducked just in time. He’d moved at super speed. Next time, I’d make that off-limits, too.
Turning tail, I sped over to the practice sticks and grabbed one from the wall. If the werewolves used these, then they had to be reinforced, right? I’d rather break one of the rattans than my bones.
Cole appeared next to me, his fingers closing over the top stick, a huge grin on his face. He was enjoying himself way too much.
I adjusted my grip, allowing for one fist length of stick at the bottom, which I could use to butt Cole if he got too close. With a few practice swings, I learned the weight and feel of the rattan. He squared off against me, moving his own stick in lazy swings meant to gain momentum. I’d done enough staff and stick fighting to understand the basics.
Cole lunged, the rattan straight out, and I knocked it to the side. An easy parry, one meant to test me. I kept my own stick moving, eyeing him for the next move. So far he’d shown impatience. As the biggest, baddest monster around, I doubted he ever felt the need to wait and assess. Me, I preferred it. Studying my enemy meant I’d survive longer. Cole’s shoulder tensed, his eyes flicking to my side and then back to my face. Now to see if he was unconsciously giving away his next move or doing it on purpose.
He sprang at me, his rattan aiming for my side, and I sidestepped—right into his foot, and quickly regained my balance. He’d herded me, proving he was paying as much attention as I was. Cole didn’t use his speed and strength to win a battle. He used his brains.
Done with slow and easy, I lunged, knocking my stick into his. On the backswing, I aimed for his bicep, hoping to fatigue the muscle. He blocked me.
Thwack, wap.
The rattans slammed against each other again and again. The vibrations echoed up my arm, numbing my fingers. I refused to let go. We danced and whirled, our movements timed to perfection. Neither one of us could get a hit in, though I suspected Cole was holding back on his speed. It wasn’t to give me a false sense of power, but to see exactly what I was capable of and feel out my determination.
Sweat trickled down my temples and forehead. I blinked to clear my sight and tossed my head to get some wayward strands out of my eyes.
Cole swept the rattan at my knees and I jumped out of the way. Landing awkwardly, I cried out in pain. A false sound, since I hadn’t hurt myself. Would he react predictably? So far he’d shown an overwhelming desire to keep me safe, though I doubted it was due to this mate nonsense he’d spouted off.
As I suspected, he dropped his rattan to his side and moved closer, concern shadowing his gaze. He needed to learn to ignore me in pain or else he’d be useless in battle if I was around.
Keeping my features twisted in fake agony, I waited until he was a foot away, then attacked. First his wrist, striking with enough force to make him drop his stick, then his knees to cut him down.
“I’m not fragile,” I snarled down at him. “I’ve survived this long without you holding my hand. Next time we spar, treat me as an equal.”
“But you’re not an equal.” A familiar soft voice made my head jerk up. I didn’t know we had an audience. By the way Cole’s body stiffened, he hadn’t known either. “He could injure you if he forgot himself.”
Cole stood up, his back to the newcomer, blocking my line of sight to the door, and an odd look passed over his face. Regret? Embarrassment? I couldn’t be sure since I’d never seen it on him before. And then the emotion vanished, covered by his usual cocky grin.
“Don’t worry, ma petite chérie, I would never accidentally hurt you.” He bowed, giving me a view of Jacy. My best friend, who’d never told me she knew Cole. My eyes narrowed while I stared at her, shock a meagre word for what I was feeling.
Her gaze dipped to the floor and her lips tightened for a fraction of a second before she covered her distress.
I rolled my eyes at Cole, absently playing my role while my mind raced with the implications of Jacy being here. “Yeah, that’s real sweet of you. How about instead you do what you said you would and train me properly. Don’t take it easy on me or else my death will be on your head.”
Jacy was a werewolf and she’d kept it from me.
I’m sorry, she mouthed before she turned and disappeared.
Yeah, that made two of us.
Chapter Thirteen
I glanced around the room, a little unnerved to be surrounded by so many werewolves. Would they abide by Cole’s directive? He’d said I was safe and no one would harm me. However, a few of them glared my way, including Michelle.
A sneer tried to break free when I met her gaze, but I managed to keep my face pleasant. Nothing about Michelle endeared her to me. Learning she was a werewolf hadn’t earned her any bonus points either, or the fact she ruled a pack of her own. Alpha or not, if that horrible woman got anywhere near me, I’d break one of her fingers, although with her fast healing abilities, breaking bones would be a little less satisfying than if she’d been human.
My gaze skipped around the room and in spite of myself, I was impressed.
The ballroom was better suited to a movie about royalty than werewolves enjoying downtime after killing a bunch of vampires. Tall, arching windows let in the pale moonlight while a massive crystal chandelier lit the middle of the ballroom. Gold leaf highlighted the artistic grooves on the ceiling, and mosaic tiles created a fascinating pattern. Staring upwards in awe would’ve marked me as gauche and out of my depth—which I was—so I kept my gaze wandering.
A white piano sat in the circular area of the room farthest from me and a long-haired woman played a lively tune. My toe tapped along.
Elegant black, red, and blue dresses flowed among the black suits. Far more people than I’d expected to attend. How many werewolves did Cole rule over? Was everyone here, except me, a werewolf?
Myself, I was completely underdressed. Fancy clothes weren’t something I had in my backpack. Lucky for me, three other werewolves wore jeans and a T-shirt, so I didn’t feel so left out.
Michelle, not surprisingly, was perfectly made up. Her hair wound around her head in intricate braids, and her azure-blue dress hugged her figure, revealing more than it covered. She wasn’t my concern, though. Jacy was.
She’d lied to me. She’d known about vampires and werewolves, and she’d never told me. Of course, I conveniently ignored the fact I’d never told her about my nightly activities, except she could smell the mark, right? Which meant she’d known the vampires would find me. My time fighting vampires couldn’t have been a secret to her, so why hadn’t she told me? All the times I’d bitched about Cole, and Jacy had acted like she hadn’t known him, never mind that he was her alpha!
Was she a spy for Cole? A way to keep tabs on me, since I hadn’t warmed up to him?
I shoved my clenched fists into my front pockets and cut off that line of thinking. Anger in a room full of creatures who could smell my emotions wasn’t smart. A cool head would keep me from stirring up trouble even when I wanted to shake the pot and kick it over.
Slouching against the wall, pretending utter boredom, I eyed the other person who’d kept me in the dark. Doug’s reasoning made sense, though, since he barely tolerated my presence. It must’ve given him unlimited joy to see me stumbling around when he had answers. Asshole.
A tiny sigh puffed past my lips. Did I mingle or just stay out of everyone’s way? I knew a grand total of four people—two of whom I disliked, and I wasn’t talking to the other two. The evening stretched out like endless reps of pulse squats, which didn’
t help my sour mood. A battle with a vampire sounded preferable at this moment, since then I’d know who wanted me dead.
Small groups of werewolves chatted, though their words seemed guarded. It must put a kink in gossip when all the guests could overhear your conversation. A group of men joked and ribbed each other while a handful of women showed off their hands. I blinked in surprise when one made her nails grow into inch-long claws. Impressive. Unlike humans, these women were less taken with the beauty of their nails and more enamoured with the power behind them.
No one spared me a glance, not even a sidelong one meant to put me in my place. Instead, they all ignored me. The interloper who wasn’t one of them and smelled like a blood slave. None of them, save Jacy, had gone out of their way to speak to me before, so why bother now?
Michelle’s words to Jacy in the restaurant came back to me. What do you think you’re doing? Does he know?
She’d meant me. Was I off-limits to the werewolves, according to Cole? Is that why they avoided me except for Doug, who had no choice? Why would Cole order his pack to stay away from me?
My head knocked against the wall as I tilted my chin up to stare at the ceiling. One of these days—soon—I’d wring every drop of information from the tight-lipped werewolf. He couldn’t keep me blind forever.
The scent of roast beef, chicken, and bacon mingled with roasted potatoes, asparagus, and corn. My stomach grumbled, ready for another gorging. Would it be rude if I shoved others aside and stuffed my face? Did I care? Life after Cole’s hospitality meant near starvation again, so I’d put some extra pounds on my body while I could.
“There you are. I wanted some water,” said a snippy voice, followed by fingers snapping. Was rudeness a prerequisite for joining Cole’s pack? Jacy not withstanding, I wasn’t impressed with the calibre of people he surrounded himself with.
Splintered Nights Page 9