Page 35 of Blood Fist

Smiling with exertion, Henroen hefted the ax to his shoulder. “Do you see?”

Brune stared at the straw spilled across the ground. “I see why we lost.”

That had Henroen laughing. Setting his ax down, he began coaching him. At first, confused, Brune was stiff and unsure. But as he began to see the fruits of his labor—a better defensive position, stronger hits—he stopped questioning why a man he’d stood across a battlefield from was teaching him.

Ruthless but endlessly encouraging, Henroen uncovered Brune’s poor training. Starting weaponless, the bigger alpha wasn’t even breathing hard as he continuously put him in the dirt. Over and over, Brune looked up at Henroen from the flat of his back. Yet, he didn’t lose hope like he had back in Kaledonea. There, his battalion commanders would scream at him. Calling him dumb, and slow. Useless.

“You’re not dumb,” Henroen said when Brune made a disparaging remark. “Do you think a dog is dumb because it cannot climb a tree like a cat?”

“No.”

“It’s the same.” he slipped the ax onto his back. “Artrax gave us all a different piece of himself because he realized what one of us needed, another had. We are dissimilar because we are meant to compliment, not copy, each other.”

It felt like Henroen had just hit him again. Even as Henroen invited him and Niklas to his hearth for dinner before leaving, Brune was still staring down at the patch of sand between his feet, trying to puzzle through what he’d just been told.

His commanders told him he was useless because he was slow with a sword. They told him he was worthless because he was born in the gutter. They told him his differences made him less.

But Brune was here, belly full, and they were dead. Casualties of their own greed.

Because that’s all it was, wasn’t it? Greed saw Krait trying to take Clansmen land for his own. Greed saw General Bargrave leaving the comfort of retirement to try to take an omega that didn’t want him.

Looking up, he could see Osmond and Niklas chatting animatedly. A younger girl joined them, her soft gray hair, a near match for Osmond, falling from itsbraid. She was eagerly placing an apple on a fence post, running back to watch Niklas hit it with his arrow. She jumped up and down, shoutingagain, againbefore Niklas ducked his head and agreed.

This morning, he thought the Clansmen were coming to kill him. He suspected they’d really come to save him.

The last shadows of night were burnt away by the slowly rising sun when Brune stepped outside of his borrowed tent. Everything was gray in the early dawn, the sun having not yet risen high enough to paint the land in color. Mist clung to the ground, the last vestiges of moisture holding on before the heat became too much.

Brune stretched his arms above his head and relished in the feeling of a full stomach. Last night, Henroen and his mate had invited them to their hearth. Like Henroen, his wife was generous. She thought nothing of making extra food, telling them to help themselves until they were satisfied. Small in stature, the beta’s personality more than made up for her diminutive height. She was lovely and soft, fitting in well with her doting mate. Henroen blushed when she teased him, telling the boys stories of the big alpha until the fire burned down.

She sent them away with the promise they would return, insisting she would rather cook for them than hear they starved. Brune remembered Henroen mentioning she favored berries. He would have to ask Corric where he could find them so he could bring her some in thanks.

Making his way through camp, he tried to keep his steps light so as not to wake those who were still sleeping.Osmond had come to their tent bright and early, dragging a sleepy Niklas with him to go hunting. The beta didn’t seem to mind too terribly.

But it left Brune awake, and he felt the urge to work off some restless energy. He slept well last night, and his muscles were still sore from the previous days, but he wanted to be better. Henroen had taken the time to teach him, and he wanted to show the alpha he was worthy of his time.

And maybe begin finding his place in the clan. He wasn’t quite sure where to start, so this was as good as any.

The training grounds were empty. Dew dripped off the wooden posts, splattering into perfect little divots in the sand beneath. Hopping the fence, Brune took up position in the center. Still having no weapon, he figured he would train the stances Henroen had showed him yesterday.

Sweat was just beginning to bead on his brow when someone shouted at him, “Foreigner!”

Brune turned on his heel, hands rising instinctively.

Unlike the last time he’d set eyes on Ridan Oldsun, the sun wasn’t in his eyes. It had only been a couple of days, yet the blonde looked different. He was wearing a loose shirt, probably to ward against the cold of morning, but his sword was still securely attached to his hip. His pale pink lips were pressed into a scowl, eyes blazing hot enough to rival an afternoon sun.

He used those eyes like a weapon, pinning Brune in place as he studied him. What he was looking for, Brune couldn’t guess. This close, he could almost catch the omegas scent—something spicy but sweet, unlike anything he could compare it to.

With a soft grunt, Ridan pulled the sword from his side and tossed it to the ground. Before the dust settled,the omega dug his boots into the ground and charged him. Brune barely had time to react before he was struck. A fist crashed into his unprotected stomach, forcing all the air from his lungs. He’d scarcely tried inhaling a ragged breath before a knee was striking his chin. He fell back, and by some miracle, he managed to keep his feet under him.

“C’mon, Kaledonean bastard,” Ridan snarled, fists curling in front of him. “Hit me!”

Brune wanted to askwhy,but he was answered with another fist to the face. He figured that was as good an answer as he was going to get.

Stumbling back for some space, he pushed all thoughts ofwhoandwhyand tried to rememberwhatHenroen said yesterday.

Dropping into a sturdier stance, he lifted his arms to protect his stomach and face.Don’t try to fight like him,he reminded himself.

A feral smile slashed across Ridan’s face, lips curling to reveal tiny omegan fangs. Ones he had no problem baring as he stepped in to attack.