Page 17 of Beastkin
I gritted my teeth and pushed myself into a sprint for the final stretch. My beast form was built for power, not speed, and the effort made my vision blur at the edges. By the time I rejoined the group, I was drenched in sweat, my dark fur clinging to my skin in sodden clumps.
“Glad you could rejoin us,” Coach Flannery said, eyeing me critically. “You good to continue, or do you need another reminder about where your head should be?”
“I’m good,” I panted, avoiding Silver’s questioning gaze. “Won’t happen again.”
Coach nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced. His nostrils flared slightly, werewolf senses picking up more than just my physical exhaustion, no doubt. But he didn’t push it.
“Alright, let’s run the defensive line drills. Laurent, you’re with Takahashi.”
I nodded, grateful to be paired with Daisuke instead of Jackson. The kirin never made me feel like I had something to prove. We lined up across from each other, and I tried to focus on his stance, the way his muscles tensed before he moved. Anything but the memory of orange eyes looking right through me.
“You seem troubled, my friend,” Daisuke said quietly as we reset for another rep. His voice had that careful, measured quality that came from being raised in a culture where every word mattered.
“Just getting back into it,” I muttered, but even I could hear how hollow that sounded.
Daisuke’s dark eyes studied me with uncomfortable intensity. “Perhaps. But I have found that the body follows where the mind leads. If your thoughts are elsewhere...”
“My thoughts are fine.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended, and I saw him flinch slightly. Guilt twisted in my gut. Daisuke didn’t deserve my attitude. None of them did.
Coach’s whistle cut through the air again, saving me from having to apologize. “Water break! Five minutes!”
I trudged toward the sidelines, my legs feeling like they weremade of concrete. Silver fell into step beside me, his purple skin still gleaming with sweat.
“You know you can talk to us, right?” he said, grabbing his water bottle from the bench. “We’re not just your teammates, Karrick. We’re your friends.”
I took a long drink, letting the cold water wash the taste of dirt from my mouth. Around us, the other guys were laughing about something Jackson had said, the easy camaraderie I’d been part of before my year away. Now I felt like I was watching it from behind glass.
“There’s this kid,” I said finally, the words coming out before I could stop them. “Someone I knew when I was little. I saw him today.”
Silver raised an eyebrow. “And that’s got you playing like shit because...?”
“Because he pretended not to know me.” The admission felt like pulling splinters from under my claws. “We were best friends, and he just... looked right through me like I was nothing.”
“Maybe he didn’t recognize you,” Silver suggested, but his tone was careful. “I mean, you’ve changed a lot since you were a kid, right? The whole beast form thing...”
I shook my head. “He knew. I could see it in his eyes for just a second before he shut down. He knew exactly who I was.” I paused. “Or at least I thought I did.
The whistle shrieked again, and Coach was waving us back onto the field. I could see him watching me, those werewolf senses probably picking up every emotional shift in my scent. The last thing I needed was him pulling me aside for one of his heart-to-heart talks.
“Look,” Silver said as we jogged back into position, “maybe there’s more to it than you think. People have reasons for the shit they do, you know?”
I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought he might be right. If Phoenix’s parents were so controlling that they’d just pack him up and moveacross the country without letting him even say goodbye, then maybe he’d been raised in a world where acknowledging me wasn’t allowed. Maybe he’d been brainwashed to forget me. Or maybe… maybe he just never cared that much.
And why did that thought make me feel hollow from head to toe?
“Laurent! Get your head out of your ass and focus!” Coach Flannery’s voice cut through my thoughts like a chainsaw.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. The hollow feeling in my chest wouldn’t leave, but I needed to push through. I’d spent a year fighting to recover, to be strong enough to come back here. I wasn’t going to let Phoenix fucking Emberwood derail me on my first day back.
“Yes, Coach,” I growled, digging my claws into the turf as I set my stance.
For the next hour, I forced myself to channel every ounce of confusion and hurt into my playing. I slammed into Jackson with enough force to make him yelp, drove Daisuke back five yards on a blocking drill, and even managed to impress Coach with a perfectly executed tackle that left Silver breathless on the ground.
“Damn, Karrick,” Silver wheezed as I helped him up. “If this is how you play when you’re upset, maybe I should piss you off before every game.”
I snorted but couldn’t help the small swell of pride. It felt good to be back on the field, to feel my muscles working the way they were meant to. To be powerful again instead of broken.
When Coach finally blew the whistle to end practice, my fur was soaked with sweat, my lungs burned, and every muscle ached. It felt fucking glorious.