Strays

Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Better," I noted with a gasp. I raked a hand through my hair as I tried to catch my breath. "Try again."

Theo groaned and spun to face me, his face blotchy with exertion. "I think," he replied, chest heaving, "I'll just stay dead this time."

I rolled my eyes, reaching for the bottle of water on his nightstand and gulping down a mouthful. Both of us were drenched in sweat, my tank top glued to my stomach, but I was still way too keyed up and restless. I knew I was pushing him harder than I should be but I'd had another harrowing nightmare the night before and I knew if I didn't work off the excess energy and bloodlust this morning, I was going to do something really fucking stupid tonight.

Like rip Courtney's throat out.

My mood soured as her face popped into my head. Last night, she'd attempted to corner Theo in one of the storerooms while he was grabbing a mop. We'd been working elsewhere for the night, cleaning up one of the news studios, which meant she'd deliberately sought him out.

Her interest wasn't waning in the slightest and the longer it dragged on, the harder it was for me to control the urge to follow my instincts.

Eliminate the threat.

My gums started to tingle as I imagined sinking my teeth into her flesh, the heady gush of blood and the gurgle —

I slammed the bottle back down on the nightstand. Flexing my fists, I eyed Theo's stance and the frame of his shoulders critically. He was still a little stiff, his shoulders braced too high, but he wasn't nearly as rigid s he'd been two hours ago when I started our training session.

I felt a little flicker of pride as I compared the way he'd stood when we first arrived in London to the way he held himself now: he was still fighting the instincts ingrained in him to correct his posture and walk like he had a stick shoved up his ass, but he was slowly learning how to relax and appear less conspicuous.

Still, even I was having difficulty relaxing in this tiny space.

I glanced around. We'd shoved all the furniture back to clear as much space as possible but my muscles were starting to cramp with the effort it took to rein myself in every time I almost slammed into something. The space had been fine when I was just demonstrating different manoeuvres and fighting exercises but now that we'd graduated onto sparring properly, it was impossible to throw ourselves into it fully without one of us plunging head first into the drywall — and the last thing I needed was Michael getting in my face about destroying anything else.

But at least then he'd be talking to you...

I scowled, shoving that errant thought from my head. I didn't want to talk to him. If he was trying to punish me with the silent treatment, it wasn't working; I was perfectly content playing 'prisoner' with a roof over my head and protection for Theo. In a few weeks, we'd have enough money to move on and Theo...

Theo still won't stand a chance against anyone with even a bit of training.

Frustration tore through me. I knew the perfect spot for us to train — the clubhouse. It was kitted out with proper equipment and enough space for fifty or so lycans to train comfortably at the same time. As members of Michael's pack, we'd be entitled to use it as frequently as we wanted.

If he doesn't have us murdered in our sleep when I tell him the truth, I thought acidly.

"Not on the menu," I said, both to Theo and myself. "Let's go."