Page 36

WREN

Heat enveloped me like the coziest, comfiest den in the entire world, and I never wanted to leave. The sound of a throat clearing invaded my peacefulness, but I just burrowed deeper. This time, a raspy chuckle sounded, and I screwed up my face in annoyance.

“She’s grumpy when someone wakes her after a sexfest. Even if it is almost eleven.”

Hearing Brix’s voice had the words finally computing and me jerking upright as Locke groaned and Puck told Brix to bugger off.

“Wha—?” I looked around the room, coming to a stop on Brix, who sat at the end of the bed.

He laughed full-out this time, motioning to his head. “Your hair is a little…”

I patted the top of my head, feeling a world of tangles and frizz. Apparently, the shower I barely remembered taking last night had left my hair in a state.

“Don’t listen to him, Birdie. You look adorable.” Puck kissed my shoulder and then sank back against the pillows.

Locke blinked a few times and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Brix answered, putting a tray on the bed. “I brought breakfast.”

My stomach rumbled louder than it ever had in my life.

Brix laughed again. “All that bonding works up an appetite. But I like the new marks.”

My hand went to my neck and shoulder. I hadn’t even seen what my new bonds looked like last night because I’d been too out of it.

“Here,” Brix offered and pulled out his phone. He turned the camera app to selfie mode so I could use it as a mirror.

My fingers skimmed over the mark on my neck first. It was beautiful and so perfect. A lock with a heart in the middle of it. My nose stung as I found the answering mark on Locke’s neck.

Then my hand moved to my shoulder and the mark there. It took me a second to place the meaning of an artistic house of sorts with a heart inside, but then I realized it was because Puck had given me shelter before he’d even met me, a safe place to stay when I’d needed it most.

A burn lit in my throat. “They’re perfect,” I croaked.

Brix leaned over the tray. “Just like you.”

“Kiss-ass,” Puck muttered.

Brix pulled back and scowled at him. “Hey, if you’re not nice, you don’t get French toast.”

“I’m nice. I want French toast,” I said quickly.

Brix chuckled and handed me a plate. He watched as I ate, the other guys digging in, too. Brix’s fingers skimmed over my knee. “You have shadows in your eyes.”

I swallowed hard, drowning my French toast with a sip of milk. “I had a bad dream last night.”

“Bastian?” Brix growled.

I nodded, ducking my head. “Puck and Locke helped, but I think I need to control my fear a little more.”

Brix’s head cocked to the side in that animalistic way of his. “How so?”

“I think I’ll feel better—stronger—if I can pour all that fear into training. You guys all have your individual strengths. I want you to teach them to me.”

The room was quiet for a moment, and then Brix stood. He lifted me into the air and tossed me over his shoulder.

“Brix,” I squealed. “What are you doing?”

He smacked my ass. “You said you wanted to train. Well, you’re already late.”

I rolled to the balls of my feet, my hands bracketing my head in a protective stance. Sweat rolled down my back and made my hair cling to my face. My muscles ached already.

I’d started my day with a ten-mile run with Brix, but his runs were a mix of sprints and parkour along with the distance. My body wasn’t used to it. But that was good. It meant I was being challenged in new ways.

Then Puck had taken me through a jump rope routine that nearly had my heart beating out of my chest. And that was all before I’d started sparring lessons with Kingston.

My breaths came quickly, short pants that made my lungs burn. King sent out a testing jab that I blocked easily, but he didn’t stop there. He dropped his shoulder for an uppercut that landed right in my ribs.

I winced, a flicker of pain blooming.

“Watch it,” Puck snarled.

“I need the hits if I’m going to get better,” I called before Kingston could answer.

King’s pale-blue eyes darkened, a muscle in his cheek popping as I straightened and rolled to the balls of my feet again. I tried for a snap kick, but King easily dodged it. I let out a growl of frustration as I steadied myself again.

“Never wear your emotions on your sleeve,” King instructed. “Because someone can take advantage.”

He moved like it was effortless, a work of performance art. He struck out with a leg sweep, taking mine out from under me. I was already falling, but he caught me behind the neck, gentling my landing.

The air still whooshed from my lungs as King straddled me, searching my face. “We’re done,” he said, a finality ringing in his words.

“But—”

“No buts,” he clipped, pushing to his feet and offering me a hand. “We’ll do more tomorrow, but training when you’re exhausted will only get you injured.”

I knew he had a point, but I still huffed out a breath of annoyance as I righted myself.

“Don’t pout,” Puck said, amusement lacing his tone. “Locke went to get lunch and your next lesson.”

That piqued my interest.

“Just call me your errand boy,” Locke called as he entered the gym, his arms laden with too many bags to count.

Ender pushed off the far wall, the place he’d stayed throughout my training with Puck and King, simply watching with that astute stare of his. “I got it.”

“You’re the one who should be helping,” Locke shot at Puck. “How many sandwiches did you make?”

Puck just grinned and took another bag from Locke. “I knew we’d work up an appetite.”

We all settled on the floor, devouring the gourmet creations Puck had dreamed up. Turkey sandwiches with sharp cheddar and cranberry sauce. Egg salad with bacon and heirloom tomatoes. Steak sandwiches with caramelized onions and garlic aioli.

“Okay,” Locke said around a mouthful of food. “I take it back. We needed all the options.”

Puck chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

I swallowed my last bite, chasing it with a sip of Coke, and then flopped back onto the mat. “Whatever’s next, you’re going to have to carry me. I’ve descended into a food coma.”

“You don’t have to move a single step,” Locke said, reaching for another bag.

I glanced over at him. “You’re up?”

He nodded.

“More lock picking?” I pushed back to sitting, eager to see what he had for me.

“Not exactly.” Locke pulled out what looked like zip ties.

A chill skated down my spine. How many times had Bastian and his men used bindings like that to keep me in place?

Kingston leaned over and laid his hand over mine. “If it’s too much, just say the word.”

I shook my head. “No. This is good.” It was exactly the sort of thing I needed to learn to take my power back.

Locke pushed to his feet and offered me a hand. I took it, shaking off any lingering anxiety.

“I’m going to bind your hands in front first. These are shifter-resistant zip ties—the kind that are harder for us to break,” he explained, showing me the plastic lengths.

“Let’s do this,” I said, squaring my shoulders and holding out my hands.

Locke quickly put the ties on so they bit into my skin but didn’t cut off circulation. “Test them.”

I tugged gently, then harder. As far as I could tell, there was no way I could get them off without losing a hand in the process.

“Good,” Locke said. “See this?” He pointed at the bracket holding the plastic in place.

“Sure.”

“That’s what we need to focus on breaking, not the plastic cord itself.”

Interesting. Whenever I’d been tied up in the past, I’d always tried to fray the length. I looked up at Locke. “How?”

“Pressure and force.”

“Science nerd,” Puck called.

“A science nerd who has saved your ass more than once,” Locke shot back.

Puck just grinned and shot me a wink. “He’s right.”

I shook my head and turned back to Locke. “Show me.”

He held his hands in front of him as if they were bound. “Lift your hands as far away from your body as you can.”

I mirrored his movement with my arms, studying all the angles.

“Good. Now, what you’ll do is bring your hands down in one swift movement, as fast as you can.” Locke executed the action. “If there’s enough force, the bracket will pop right off.”

It made sense, but it would hurt like hell if it didn’t work. I made the motion slowly at first, ensuring I had it down. Then, taking a deep breath, I did it at full speed.

My fists slammed into my stomach and the ties burned the hell out of my wrists but no bracket broke. I coughed and doubled over.

Locke muttered a curse and moved in to help me straighten.

“You didn’t commit.” The voice was one I’d only heard a couple of times today. Now, it carried criticism as Ender glared at me.

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered as I stood up fully.

“You would’ve had it if you hadn’t let doubt get in your way at the last second. You can do this. Don’t doubt yourself,” he commanded.

A flicker of warmth took root somewhere deep. Because Ender’s critique was how he showed he cared.

Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my hands again.

This time, I closed my eyes. I remembered how powerless I’d felt at the hands of Bastian and his men, all the pain they’d caused me over the years.

I let those memories fuel my anger. And as my wolf snarled within me, I slammed my hands against my body.

Pain flared at my wrists, but it was fleeting because a pop sounded, and then I was free.

My eyes flew open, a grin stretching across my lips. “It worked.”

Locke pulled me in for a quick hug. “Told you. Certified badass.”

“Are there different techniques if your hands are behind you or tethered to stationary objects?”

Locke nodded. “We can work on a different one each day.”

Excitement bubbled. “Thanks?—”

Movement caught my eye, and I whirled, catching the bo staff just before it smacked me in the face.

“Come on, Kitten,” Ender growled. “Let’s go.”