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WREN

It took everything in me to keep my wolf in check. She might be submissive, but she had a reaction to men trying to exert their authority over her. Or, in this case, just being generally bossy and overprotective.

I straightened from my stretch, doing everything I could to keep a nonchalant look on my face. “I don’t know, King. Are you sure I’m not going to hurt you?”

The use of his nickname, the one I’d heard Clyde call him, was purposeful. A false sense of connection and a challenge.

Kingston’s eyes flashed silver. “Little Warrior, you’re playing with fire.”

I shrugged carelessly. “Prove it.” And with that, I grabbed my water bottle and gloves and headed to the ring.

“Fuck, King. I’m in love. Please, let me fight her,” Puck begged.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as the practice ring emptied. Franco and Juan climbed down, both stopping by me .

“You doing okay?” Franco asked, examining my face for any signs of bruising. There probably would’ve been, but my shifter healing took care of that quickly.

“I’m all good. Promise. You barely got me,” I assured him.

Franco’s shoulders relaxed with relief. “Happy as hell to hear that.”

“Still lookin’ perfect from where I’m standing,” Juan added.

Another growl sounded behind me, but this one was louder, a decibel that human ears could clearly hear as both Franco and Juan took big steps back.

“Sorry, boss,” Juan called. “Hands off. I got it.”

I turned to face Kingston, my eyes narrowing. “What was that about?”

“He was being inappropriate.”

My brow arched. “And Puck wasn’t?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be putting Puck in his place, too.”

I scoffed and then climbed into the practice ring. “I don’t need your protection, Kingston.”

I could take care of myself. And that fact hadn’t come easily. I’d had to break myself in so many ways. Remake myself into someone who never cowered. It had taken years. But I’d gotten there.

Kingston ducked between the ropes, moving to the opposite side of the ring. He stretched his neck from one side to the other, and I heard a faint pop. Then he reached behind his head and pulled his Crescent Kingdom tee off in one fluid motion.

My brain short-circuited. I hadn’t expected the overprotective, by-the-book Kingston to be covered in ink. Intricate designs played over his shoulders and pecs, ran down his ribs, and disappeared beneath his shorts.

Holy hell.

I finally forced my gaze up to his face and locked eyes with him. Those icy blues were already on me. He’d seen me taking in every inch of the inked skin and hadn’t done a thing to stop me. My wolf let out that low purr again. She wanted to do more than look .

I tore my focus away from Kingston. I needed to get it together and prove that I could handle myself. That need was borne of almost a decade of being in a monster’s clutches. But more than that, it was for me.

I pulled my sparring gloves on and cracked my fingers. Closing my eyes for a moment, I took the time to center myself, a reminder of everything I fought for rising. When I turned back around, I didn’t see Kingston as a shifter I felt the brutal tug of attraction toward. I didn’t see him as the kind man making sure I got home safely. I saw him as my opponent, nothing more and nothing less.

Kingston’s gaze swept over my face, a hint of surprise showing. But he still stepped into the center of the ring, holding out his gloved fist.

I met him in the middle, feeling all eyes in the gym on us. As our knuckles connected, I met his stare dead-on. “Don’t hold back.”

Kingston’s expression flashed with surprise again, but he didn’t give me words. Instead, he turned to Clyde. “You call it.”

“You got it, boss.”

A second later, a whistle blew.

My weight instantly shifted to the balls of my feet. Being small had its advantages and disadvantages. One of the pros was that I was lighter on my feet and could move faster. I knew I’d need every ounce of that with Kingston.

We circled each other for a moment, both trying to register how the other moved. Kingston had surprising grace for his size, similar to Ender’s in the kitchen earlier. It made sense, given they were from the same pack. They likely trained together regularly.

But that also gave me information. Kingston would probably pull some of the same moves Ender had. I filed that knowledge away in the back of my head while still trying to stay in the present.

Kingston sent out a testing jab, one painfully easy to block. I answered with a jab of my own, but it packed more heat. Kingston didn’t move to block it fully and let out a soft oomph at the contact .

A look of appreciation filled his face, one I wanted to roll my eyes at. “Come on, King. Put a little effort into it,” I challenged.

That had the man opposite me picking up his pace. But still, his hits and kicks lacked any real heat. “Kingston,” I growled, putting everything I had into a blow to his ribs. “Fight back.”

His jaw hardened. “I don’t make a habit of hitting women.”

That only fueled the fire. “Then don’t look at me as a woman. Look at me as someone who’s about to kick your ass.”

I heard some hoots from the crowd.

“You’ll be in good company, boss,” Juan called. “Pretty sure she’s kicked all our asses at some point.”

I didn’t want to lose focus, but I couldn’t help the slight twitch of my lips. It was enough for Kingston to get off a blow to my ribs. I managed to dodge the worst of it, but the slight sting was a gift—the gift of respect.

“That’s more like it,” I said around my mouthguard.

We moved in earnest then, dodging and weaving, picking up speed. The rest of the world slipped away until it was just King and me. It was my favorite feeling: nothing but the present, no past wounds and scars, no fears about the future. There was only here and this.

My knee lifted in a blow to Kingston’s ribs. He grunted and answered with a move that sent me to the mat, flat on my back. I was usually quick enough to roll to my feet and not let anyone trap me there because the mat was where my size worked against me.

But King was too fast. He was on top of me in a flash, pinning my arms above my head. I bucked my hips, trying to get into a position that would free me, but there was no use.

“Tap out,” Kingston growled.

I gritted my teeth and only fought harder.

His grip on my wrists tightened. “Tap out.”

I let out a sound of frustration but used my fingers to tap the side of his hand as I gave him the words. “Tap out. ”

Kingston was off me in a flash, pulling me to my feet. “You’ve got talent, Little Warrior.”

The warm feeling of that praise swirled around me as I took my mouthguard out and stuck it back in its case. “Thanks for actually fighting back.” Though I had a feeling what I’d seen was only the tip of the iceberg.

“Told you, boy,” Clyde called from his spot at the ropes.

The crowd that had gathered around us sent up whoops and hollers, along with some good-natured shit talking. But one person pushed toward the front of that crowd, and I froze. His hair was dark, just shy of black, and hung to his shoulders, framing a face that would’ve been devastatingly handsome if not for the ice-cold expression. His eyes were a startling blue-green, and next to one was a knife tattoo.

“Wren,” he growled.

Oh, crap on a cracker.

I knew that face. I hadn’t just ended up in a wolf pack’s territory. I’d ended up in The Diablos’ —a wolf pack of feral mercenaries known for their mercilessness and creativity with body disposal. I was so screwed.