Made in Moonlight

Six

Training is hard. I've never been an athletic person, so it's a whole new world for me. Literally, considering I'm living amongst werewolves now.

I wake up the next morning aching. My whole body is sore, every muscle tender from the training routine Thomas and Leyla put me through yesterday. Even though it wasn't much—thanks to Blake's interference—it's more than I'm used to, especially after almost dying.

That ache in my chest where the knife entered is mostly gone now, but my legs still wobble a little when I walk.

Nevertheless, I force myself to my feet and get ready for the day. There's no sign of my roommates until I settle in the kitchen, my stomach growling. It seems like I'm always hungry now.

I spot them outside the window. Blake is shirtless, sparring with Thomas while Leyla stretches on the grass.

That silvery string between Blake and I flares to life and my eyes focus on him. I can't help but be amazed at the way his muscles stretch and flex. They must have been sparring for some time, because his bare skin glistens with sweat.

His dark hair falls over his eyes and he sweeps it back with one huge hand. As he does so, his eyes catch on that silver string between us and he turns, following the rope until he meets my eye in the window.

I practically freeze under his stare.

His eyes flicker over me, from my face, down to my body, then back up again. Self-consciousness creeps in.

My hair is in a simple braid, ready for another day of training. Now, I can't help but think I should have let it down, or at least spent a few extra minutes in the mirror.

I shake the thought out of my mind. What am I thinking? It's all this weird, wolf stuff making me act this way. Why should I care what Blake thinks when he looks at me? Because a silver string between us says so?

Abruptly, the two stop sparring and Blake's mouth moves quickly. He doesn't even hide the fact that he's talking about me as all three werewolves turn, facing me.

I smile, lifting a hand to wave. Leyla moves first, heading for the cabin.

"Morning!" she chirps as she steps through the front door. "Hungry?"

"Always," I say, groaning. "It's like my stomach is an endless pit."

"You'll get used to it," she says, laughing. She turns to the fridge and starts looking through it.

"Oh, I can find something myself," I say, stepping forward.

She waves a hand at me. "Don't worry about it. I already made breakfast for everyone."

She pulls out a wrapped plate and hands it to me. I look down, finding pancakes with a pile of bacon and eggs on top.

"Wow, you really like cooking," I remark as I move towards the microwave.

She chuckles, shaking her head. "That, and I eat a lot more than the others. It's only fair."

I frown at the tiny werewolf—the girl who's so small, I thought she was a child when we first met. "Really? You?"

She shrugs, color rising in her cheeks. "Doctor's orders. I need to bulk up a little bit. My first transformation... it took a lot out of me."

The microwave beeps. My breakfast is ready. I pull the plate out, taking a seat at the table.

"Is it really that bad?" I ask.

She hums. "Imagine every bone in your body, every muscle, snapping and reshaping and stitching itself back together."