The Beast

Chapter 26 - Fresh Air

The browning grass prickled the bare skin of my legs, bending under the fabric of my black running shorts. The familiar grunting and groaning that echoed from the small dirt circles dug into the ground for makeshift sparring pits brought me a strange feeling of comfort.

I could feel eyes on me as each match ended and they switched opponents, shifting from their wolves into their human form with minimal scratches.

"Are you sure you don't want to train with us?" Jackson crouched down next to me, dropping the silver whistle from between his lips.  It hung from a long black string around his neck, swaying back and forth across his bare chest.

I sighed and pulled my knees up into my chest, wrapping my arms tightly at the knees and resting my chin on my bicep. "No thanks." I mumbled.

Arias has been in the hospital for two days. He appeared much better, but for some reason he had yet to wake up. According to our pack doctor, Gale, it should be any time now.

I had lost the drive to train-my mind was too focused on my mate to want to do anything else. It took Maia practically dragging me out of his suite by the arm to get me out here today. I had also very much been ignoring my parents. Although my mother assured us she would be supportive of our choices, the look on our father's face said otherwise. He wasn't ready to accept Arias, even if he had known about our bond long before we did.

Jackson only nodded and sat in silence on the ground at my side, watching our warriors bite and claw their way to victory.

Marcus dodged a fist thrown at his face in time to land his own punch on Franklin's stomach, barreling him over in pain. He used it to his advantage and ducked behind him, kicking him forward and locking him under his leg onto the ground. Franklin growled, struggled and flailed backward to push him off, but only managed to twist his shoulder until a popping sound resonated from the joint.

He howled and gave in, his body going limp until Marcus climbed off him and helped him up.

Marcus was improving on his fighting skills, but I could see that he didn't seem to enjoy himself-almost like hurting someone went against every one of his instincts.

He huffed and dropped in a heap on the ground next to Jackson, squeezing his plastic water bottle so a steady stream of cold, filtered water poured into his gaping mouth.

His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his sweat trailing down his forehead. "It's so fucking hot." He groaned, wiping his face with the front of his grey t-shirt.

I pulled my exercise jacket tighter around me, the chilly breeze racing across the open field and rustling the yellowing leaves in the hundred-year-old trees that shadowed our land.

The season was beginning to change, and the usually sweltering heat was dimming to the crisp fall air that would soon be followed by piles of fallen leaves and lower temperatures.

Jackson chuckled and leaned back, propping himself up with one hand against the ground. "I'm surprised you got Franklin down so easily. He's usually stubborn when it comes to training." We all turned our heads to the medium-height dirty blonde who was scolding himself for losing as he punched one of the stand-alone bags off to the side with an aggravated fierceness, shaking the material with the strength of each hit until it eventually gave way and collapsed to the ground.

Franklin was one of our better fighters, but he sometimes struggled with controlling his wolf. He was a couple years older than Marcus and I, but that didn't stop us from occasionally running into each other at schooling events or pack gatherings. He was actually quite friendly to me, but seemed to find it difficult getting along with the two big-heads next to me.