What if who you thought you were was only a drop in the ocean of time?
What if your existence was fated to follow a predestined path?
And you hated that path. And you fought fate.
Katya Luschkova longs to break free from the suffocating hold of he...
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There would be three fights today Nikolai had told me. The first was on now. A skinny, shaggy grey Wolfe battled a mean looking dirty-brown one.
I walked over to Nikolai and the tree he was leaning against and watched as the two kicked up dirt in their skirmish. "The grey one is Ben, and the other is Sean. Ben makes up for his skinniness in agility and dexterity. But he gets cocky. Sean is patient and strong. He'll wait for the opening you don't think you're going to give him and strike then. And when he strikes, it's powerful enough that you won't be getting up after a while," Nikolai reported, his eyes tracing the two fighters' movements as mine did.
Watching from afar and from up close were two very different things —I felt invigorated. As Nikolai had predicted, Ben taunted Sean one too many times and couldn't leap away fast enough. Sean's paw strike was swift and powerful and I heard bones break upon impact. The young grey wolf landed several feet away and howled in agony. At least he was in third place.
One of Jazz's fighters who was the referee jumped down and lifted Sean's arm in the air to the cheers of the crowd. (Meaning yes, Sean —big Sean, shifted just after winning, presenting Nikolai and I with a bombastic view of his fine ass). Both Nikolai and I looked at one another and burst out laughing.
The next two fighters were called into the dirt ring and a lanky boy about my age bounced back and forth as his adversary —another lanky boy, strolled into the ring. Though they were both the same age, one seemed significantly older than the other and I couldn't find why in his appearance. I realized it had more to do with the way he carried himself. And his eyes—his eyes were hardened, wary eyes that made you think "What the fuck happened to you?"
I laughed humorlessly as I realized he might think the same thing when he looked at me. There was something familiar about him that nagged at me, but I couldn't quite tell if I knew him or not.
"Derek and Sasha," Nikolai informed me. "My money's on Sasha, —Nik gestured to the boy I was already looking at— "that serious one over there I been chiseling at for months to find his sense of humor."
"What happened to him?" I asked, genuinely curious.
Nikolai shrugged. "He's the son of a rogue, had a hard life on the run. He's the only other outsider we've had here before you in the last five years but he's a bit more accepted because he's tied to Dmitri and well, bound by blood to him."
My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I exclaimed, "He's Alpha blood?"
Nikolai smiled slightly and nodded, "Kind of, but not really. Genetically, yes. But there isn't a bone in that boy's body that wants to run a Pack himself. What I meant was that he swore allegiance by blood to Dmitri a couple months ago. So after he wins this, which I know he will, we're going to have a new member in our inner circle."
Now I was really curious —how was an Alpha's blood a rogue? Exile? I frowned at him and questioned, "But isn't it dangerous to accept him so soon after joining the Pack from outside?"
