Page 19

WREN

Saying the words out loud, telling them all what I’d lived through—even in broad strokes—had let the memories get a foothold.

They came in flashes like snapshots, but nothing I did could shove them back down.

Not distracting myself with strengthening the wards.

Not a pack run. Not the comforting embraces of Brix, Locke, and Puck.

So, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s face.

The way it would contort in rage as he called me an abomination.

How he would spit on me, telling me the only thing I’d be good for was breeding.

I shuddered, thinking about the cruel man he likely had in mind for me.

Sleep was not going to come.

Deep breathing and the occasional soft snore swirled around me. I could wake Brix, Locke, or Puck, and they would stay up with me. Watch a movie. Play a game. Whatever I wanted.

But when I looked at their faces, lax in sleep, I couldn’t do it. We’d all been stressed to the max lately, and they needed their rest. What I wanted was a run in my wolf form, but I wasn’t a moron with a death wish, so I scratched that off the list.

I carefully pulled back the covers and slid to the end of the bed.

Puck let out a sound that had me stilling, but he soon eased back into deep breathing.

I stood and moved to the closet by the glow of the single light in the bathroom, then quickly changed into workout gear and headed toward the gym.

Even though the guys had Crescent Kingdom to work out in, it didn’t surprise me that they also had a state-of-the-art gym at home. It was on the far end of the house with an endless array of windows so it didn’t feel like you were exercising inside.

I silently padded along, listening for the sounds of…anything. As if my father might pop out from around any corner. I shoved that thought down. He didn’t get to win. Didn’t get to steal my life in an entirely different way than he already had.

A faint sound caught my ears as I got closer to the gym. A human wouldn’t have been able to make it out, but my shifter hearing had no issues grabbing hold. It was the sound of gloves hitting a punching bag.

I thought about turning around and heading somewhere else—the library, maybe—but I knew books wouldn’t help right now.

I needed to bleed the anxiety from my body, and the only way to do that was through physical exertion.

I prayed it was Kingston in there. He’d basically been ignoring me and keeping his distance since I’d woken up—other than leaving me the wildflowers.

As I stepped into the gym, I knew I was out of luck.

Ender stood facing one wall, attacking the heavy bag like some pissed-off avenging angel.

His caramel-accented deep-brown hair was pulled up into a bun, revealing the shaved sides of his head.

But more than that was on display. Most of his body was.

Ender had ditched his shirt at some point and wore nothing but athletic shorts and sneakers as his fists connected with the bag.

He was a sea of toned muscle, a faint sheen of sweat making the ink decorating his torso, neck, and arms glisten.

The pictures permanently etched there were dark: a battle scene playing out over his body.

Maybe it was a metaphor for what lived inside him.

A meow sounded as Princess trotted over to me, and Ender’s amber eyes cut my way, his fists stilling.

My mouth went dry at the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry,” I mumbled, turning to leave.

“Don’t.” The single word had a fury to it, as if Ender was beyond angry to even have to say it.

I stilled and turned around. “It’s your house. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Apparently, it’s yours now, too.” The anger was back in those flashing eyes.

“And that makes you mad,” I surmised.

“Yes.” He pulled off one boxing glove, then the other.

“You could always turn me over to the highest bidder.” There were likely more than a few groups who’d pay big money for a chance to kill me or worse. And that was without knowing what I truly was. If my empath status became public knowledge, I’d be nothing but a slave for the rest of my life.

Ender’s amber eyes bled to gold. “That’s the kind of man you think I am?”

“I don’t know you,” I told him honestly. “But I think you’re cold, calculating, and distrustful. I think you would do anything to protect the ones you love.”

“Accurate.” He tossed the gloves to the floor and moved to a row of martial arts weapons against the wall. “But I don’t sell people out for money.”

Interesting.

He grabbed two bo staffs. “Have you trained with these before?”

“I know the basics.” My trainer in New York had just started me with a bo when I’d had to run again.

“Good.” Ender tossed me one of the staffs, and I caught it easily. “We start out gentle. Until your muscles are warmed up.”

I didn’t miss the intent behind his choice of sparring weapons. These allowed us to fight without any true contact. A smile curved my lips as I kicked off my sneakers and moved onto the mat.

Ender did the same but with a scowl on his lips. “Why are you smiling?”

“You’re scared of me.” I wasn’t sure what it said about me that I got such supreme pleasure from that. But I did.

The scowl on Ender’s face only deepened. “The hell I am.”

I twirled the bo in my hands. “You chose this weapon so you wouldn’t have to touch me.”

“Maybe you disgust me.”

I arched a brow as I stretched from side to side. “Keep telling yourself that, Cat Daddy.”

Princess let out a meow as she leapt on top of one of the treadmills for a better view.

A muscle along Ender’s jaw began to flutter wildly, and I knew I’d gotten under his skin. “Stop stalling.”

“Whatever you say.” I pushed to the balls of my feet, readying my bo.

We moved in a circle, each releasing the occasional testing strike.

Then we started to dance. The staffs made music as we battled, creating a rhythm all our own.

Everything spilled into the movements: our frustration and anger, fear and uncertainty.

And something I didn’t want to look too closely at… need .

Our sticks crashed into each other as I moved in, trying to sweep Ender off his feet. But he was too damn good.

A chuckle left his throat as he snapped forward with a hit of his own, much more graceful than mine had been. “You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that. But you need technique. Practice.”

I struck out with one end of my bo, just missing Ender’s shoulder. “I only had three weeks of training with these.”

He arched a brow at that, a grudging respect entering his expression. “You need time with the staff. Need to make it an extension of your body.”

I could see what he meant. When Ender moved, his bo moved with him. They were one. It was the same with his bow and arrow. It was as if he could whisper to these inanimate objects and make them do his bidding.

Ender’s staff struck mine, and he followed with a leg sweep like I’d attempted; only his was successful. My back hit the mat with force, pushing all the air from my lungs. Then, Ender was on me.

He straddled my hips, placing his bo across my neck but not pressing down. “Yield.”

It wasn’t a question, but I scowled up at him, refusing to give him that pleasure.

One corner of Ender’s mouth kicked up as he leaned over me, so close I could taste his minty breath on my tongue. He pressed the staff lightly to my throat. “Yield.”

“Or what?” I challenged.

Those amber eyes heated, but it wasn’t anger I saw there. It was heat. Need. Want. The same that coursed through me.

“Wren,” he rasped.

I felt the vibration of my name across my lips. And, gods, I wanted to lean into it. Wanted to close the distance and know what it would feel like to drown in Ender. To bleed out all our hate on the mat.

“You don’t know what you’re playing at,” he growled.

I felt my wolf take hold, accepting his challenge. “Don’t I?”

Ender leaned closer, just a breath away, and then?—

Puck’s snarl lit the air. “What the fuck are you doing, Ender?”