Metamorphosis (Breaking Free, book 2)

Chapter 16-Milo

I wasn't sure why I was here. Lidia, my therapist had told me not to train this week beyond the mandatory hour, which I'd done this morning. She thought I was obsessed and it kept me from healing.

The training room smelled like ripe sweat and mildew. It was busy for a Monday morning, with people scattered around, sweating through their shirts. I'd become used to the dubious smells and strange people. I missed it, oddly enough.

I didn't miss it because I'd spent a lot of time here. And I didn't miss it because of the memories I had here with my friends, some of the only calm moments I'd gotten since we arrived back. To be honest, I wasn't sure why I missed it, but still, I found the hollow thud of wooden staffs and the sharp clangs of training swords hitting each other oddly comforting.

"Are you going to come in or just stand there?" Tom said, leaning on his staff with a smirk. He hadn't been there long, judging by the shirt clinging his skin instead of lying in a pile by his sports bag. His partner looked me up and down and huffed, blowing the ends of his mustache out of place. Pushing myself off the wall I grinned at Tom, my sharp fangs poking through.

They'd come in about a week ago, sometime after Raijin had claimed my balcony as his personal room. With him, he brought his freaky, tooth-covered drums and several cases of beer that disappeared at an alarming rate. The world was changing before my eyes. My world and my body were changing even faster.

I grinned at Tom, stalking towards him. He stood at the center of the mat, looking quite lonely since his partner had wandered off in an irritated rage.

"Looks like you need a partner," I said, looking him up and down. He looked one good sparring match away from being drenched in sweat from head to toe. Tom's eyes took on a sly glint, and I was brutally reminded of how clever Tom could be when he wasn't a complete idiot. My toes curled, the anticipation of a good fight jumping in my veins.

"Maybe," He said, smirking. I hummed, carefully choosing a staff from the bucket. "Maybe not." He jeered. " I could knock you on your ass in less than a minute." He said. Balancing a pale wooden staff in my hand, I smirked, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

"Is that a challenge?" I asked, tightening my grip on the staff. This one would work fine. Air whistled to the left of me. Swinging around I met his strike, lowering into a fighting stance. "You're going to have to try harder than that." I teased. He swung at my ankles. Jumping up, I struck at his chest. Wheezing, Tom caught it in his hand. His eyes were dark and mischievous.

"You've gotten better," He huffed. With a conspiratorial wink, he yanked at the end of my staff. Twisting into a side aerial, I hit his side. Tom stumbled back, coughing. Jumping on the balls of my feet, I struck again. Tom slid one foot back, stabilizing himself, his eyes sharpened to feline slits. My gut twisted in a new kind of way. It was strong and primal and it begged me to listen. Without thinking, I bared my teeth in a low hiss.

"Now, now, pets, no need to be so wild." Rolling my eyes, I turned to face Raijin, refusing to put my guard down. He smirked at us, his shoulders pushed back and his chin tilted up in a show of dominance. I shivered, the hairs on my neck and arms standing up. Pinching my wrist, I fought the urge to Turn and sink my claws into his face. And what an urge it was. What I wouldn't give to see that smug smirk wiped off his face. But he was a God. A God who looked and sounded exactly like my best friend.

He clucked his tung at us, and Tom bristled, visibly shaking in an effort to control his fox. Raijin ran his pointer finger along my jaw. He eyed me carefully, like someone facing a rabid chihuahua wondering if it was worth it to try and pet it. His finger hovered over the mole below my lip, pausing for a second to tilt his head and smirk. Sighing with a dramatic flourish, he tapped it playfully and turned away.