Yeah yeah its been forever, I'm sorry! I've not really been writing and when I have it's all ended up shit and gone nowhere. I'm also starting to write a new book on Wattpad, so please go and give that a read once it's up, but for now I will try my best to regularly update this one!
Sorry again and enjoyyyy!
My excitement didn't last long.
To my dismay, PT still consisted of working on extremely basic kicks and punches that didn't require the help of upper-year tutors.
I sank into myself, already bored at the prospect of an hour of mind-numbingly simple training sans Hunter, before my gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the teacher's rough bark.
"Smithe!"
My body stiffened automatically, and I stood ramrod straight, meeting his gaze evenly, years upon years of training with increasingly tough instructors, the best of the best - or worst of the worst, depending on your perspective - kicking in.
His eyes narrowed, assessing.
"Well, they've clearly trained you well." He scrutinised me. "Discipline, respect. Very good."
I nodded, silent.
"You have any military training, Smithe?"
My eyebrow twitched, the only sign of my surprise. People didn't normally see the clues in my posture, the way I had been trained to stand, the cool gaze that suggested a background in service.
"My longest-standing trainer was an ex-Marine." I stated, some warmth creep into my voice as I briefly let myself remember the man who I had idolised for a large chunk of my life.
The teacher nodded approvingly, his eyes never leaving my face. "It shows."
I dipped my chin ever so slightly, accepting his praise, stoic and silent and still.
After a few seconds of analysing me, his take-no-prisoners mask cracked slightly as he sent me a small smile.
"At ease, lass." His faint Scottish accent flowed over me, and I relaxed the square set of my shoulder, shifting my weight more onto my right hip. He nodded again, still smirking slightly.
"Go and spar with Brookes." His voice was still commanding, and I cocked my head in question.
"Who's Brookes?"
His smirk strengthened and he gestured over my shoulder.
"That would be me."
I turned towards the familiar voice. Kaylee stood with her normally loose and flowing red hair tucked up into a high, tight ponytail. She wore only a sports bra and tight shorts, her body glistening slightly with sweat already, and I saw that she had been pounding away at a punch bag hanging from a sturdy tree at the edge of the clearing.
Her knuckles, like mine, were protected by well-worn boxing wraps and she cocked her fingers at me, beckoning challengingly.
I grinned, not hesitating as I ran full tilt at her.
I had to hand it to her, she had guts and barely shifted from her aggressive stance as I bore down on her.
I could hear the internal murmuring of the students still learning baby punches in the clearing, and I noted with surprise that my gift had made a comeback, since it had been largely absent since my heat.
'Could be interesting.' I heard a male voice muse to themselves, 'The psychic versus the White Wolf. Who's gonna come out on top?!
I had almost completely forgotten about Kaylee's ability to read minds, and grinned at the new challenge it presented.
YOU ARE READING
The Bad Girl in Boots
Werewolf*CURRENTLY BEING EDITED AND OVERHAULED!* "I would never hurt you. And I will kill anyone who harms you." I look into his dark eyes and know in that moment that he believes it. That it's true. "I'm sorry you've been hurt so badly, but you're with...
