Page 29 of The Wolf and the Chimera (The Witch and the Cowboy #3)

Elle

In the sandy pit of the coliseum, the foggy gray sky hung over us like the perfect reflection of my mood. The chilly breeze bit into my simple, pale blue tunic and nipped at the tip of my nose.

Once again, my chimera training had gone… array.

Circe had planted me in a pit of snakes and told me my chimera form offered immunity from their venom—if I mustered the control to summon it.

My chimera had allowed me that, but I hadn’t been able to form the claws I desperately needed to climb out of the pit. I had been bitten.

Over and over and over again.

The snakes had brutalized me to the point where venom may not have been a concern, but blood loss certainly was.

Eventually, the ancient witch had taken pity on me and flashed me into the coliseum, where my mate and my father now threw such fits over the blood coating my skin, I almost wanted to go back to the snakes.

Almost.

The two had been sparring in the coliseum when we appeared. The only silver lining in all this was that the others weren’t here to witness the spectacle.

“The girl is fine,” Circe insisted .

She waved a hand in my direction, and light flashed. Warmth spread across my skin in a pleasant wave. My stinging wounds abated. When I blinked away the lingering blindness from the flash of light, I touched my arms and realized Circe had healed me. Only dry, crusted blood remained.

Hands still shaking with rage, Ryder stormed to my side.

Gently, he picked up my hand and touched one of the bloody spots. His power loomed in the air like an axe waiting to fall.

“I’m okay,” I said in a low voice.

If anything, it riled my inner beast’s nerves to have everyone treat her like she was made of glass. After the hell she had put me through, I didn’t care about her feelings, but the coddling irritated me too.

Luckily, Ryder saw what I needed and backed down.

My father was another story.

“I don’t care if you healed her!” he shouted. “She shouldn’t be covered in wounds anyway!”

Ryder stiffened, and Dad glared at him.

“What kind of mate are you?” he demanded. “You’re okay with Elle being hurt?”

Ryder’s jaw clenched, and I grabbed his hand.

“No,” Ryder growled, “but I respect Elle’s choices.”

Dad shook his head and scoffed. “You’re just too scared to say something she doesn’t like.”

“That’s enough,” I snarled. “There is too much at stake to waste my time arguing with you.”

I turned to Circe. In her gold and maroon chiton, the ancient witch watched me with her cold, cunning gaze.

“What’s next?” I asked. “Daylight magic training?”

She sighed. “You didn’t summon a single ray yesterday. I think it’s time we change course.”

Grumbling under his breath, Dad stormed toward the distant stone gate.

“Actually, Lee,” Circe called, “I’m hoping you can help us with this part. ”

I frowned in confusion, and Dad paused.

“Elle needs to develop her hand-to-hand combat skills,” Circe continued. Her smile was feline. “You are an expert, aren’t you?”

I almost told Circe no, that there was no way in hell my father would be helpful, but Mom’s words rang in my ears.

Icing him out after so long waiting for you…it’s killing him.

“I’d really like your help, Dad,” I said. I’d really like for you to believe in me.

His wild gaze softened, and he nodded.

With Circe and Ryder watching from the side, we took up positions across each other.

“Hands up,” Dad instructed.

I fought a smile. Though Dad had shown none of his usual warmth toward Ryder, their advice was similar.

As he launched into a series of explanations on footwork, punches, and kicks, we fell into rhythm. His directions were clear, as were his corrections. I lost myself in the easy flow of movement. Soon, sweat coated my brow, and my muscles ached from fatigue.

“Your greatest strength will be your fluidity,” Dad said. “Fighting is as much a dance as it is a battle. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

Like you have my whole life?

I balked at the venomous thought, and Dad landed a punch to my rib cage, though he pulled it enough to barely hurt.

I clenched my teeth and launched my own attack against him.

I began the combination he had taught me—jab, cross, hook—but I surprised him with a switch kick to his left.

I didn’t knock him down, but his knee wavered under the force of my blow to his calf.

Ryder whistled, and my chimera preened.

That wasn’t for you, I told the creature.

The internal argument with myself broke my concentration.

“Hands up,” Dad barked .

“If I was anyone else,” I reminded him, “you would’ve gotten my attention by sweeping my leg—not with a gentle reminder.”

I came at him with more force.

Kick, jab, jab, hook…

He deflected the blows with ease.

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “A few weeks with the wolves, and you’re craving brutality.”

His words only stoked that hideous anger.

“My enemies are brutal,” I said. He flinched, but I forged ahead. “I must be brutal too.”

Mirroring my own emotions, hurt and anger loomed in Dad’s eyes. Though every fiber in my being had missed him—had desperately, secretly hoped to see him again—we were not the same people we had been before that day on the burning yacht.

I was not the same.

“Just say it,” Dad said quietly and lowered his hands. “Say what you’ve been wanting to say since you saw me.”

I swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The words tasted like a lie. Memories swirled in my mind, faster than I could stop them.

Flames, then suffocating darkness and prodding touches and silence so loud it drilled into my ears—

“I know you, Ella-Bella,” he said. “You’re angry with me.”

My heart throbbed, but I didn’t release the words clogged in my throat. I couldn’t—I wouldn’t . Once I unleashed them, I couldn’t take them back.

My inner beast stirred beneath my skin, and heat surged through my veins. I stiffened my lips to lock in the truth.

It wasn’t fair to spew my thoughts, not when what had happened was my fault. I had lost that damned pendant. I had given the High Witch the key to finding me, all for foolish, stupid dreams, but—

“Tell me,” Dad commanded.

He looked so different—so different from the man with the kindest smiles and the best sundaes and the greatest stories.

Before becoming my parent, he had been a history professor, who specialized in mythology.

Violence hadn’t been in his nature, but he had crafted himself into a weapon. He fought like it was an art.

Combined with his teaching skills, he was a hell of a trainer.

“Why?” I asked. Tears brimmed in my eyes. “Why did you leave me defenseless? Why didn’t you teach me how to fight back?”

There had been a moment.

There had been one precious moment between the cloying effects of the High Witch’s sedatives and the clasp of a Handmaiden on my arm. I had been given one, tiny moment to fight before getting put on that altar like a slab of meat, and I hadn’t used it.

I hadn’t thought there was a chance in any dimension that I could fight back.

Desperate to escape the memory, I squeezed my eyes shut.

As Dad’s arms wrapped around me, I sobbed into his chest.

“I didn’t fight, Dad,” I whispered. “I should’ve fought back, and I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

I sensed Ryder drift closer, but my focus remained on my father. I pulled away from him to meet his stare.

“You were always so kind,” he said and smiled sadly. “So empathetic and curious and kind. You had no interest in your mother’s and my training.”

He was right. As a little girl, I had been more interested in Dad’s history lessons or visiting local art museums than in Mom’s weak attempts to teach me to fight.

“Your mom wanted to train you,” he said, “and she was right to want to train you, but as I watched you grow up, I couldn’t help but think how unfair it was.

If you were any other kid, you would’ve never formed a fist in your life.

We would’ve enrolled you in art classes or debate or anything you wanted. ”

I saw it—the life he dreamed for me—the one in which there was no monster under my skin, no sorceress watching over my shoulder, and no witch hunting me with her every breath.

Human Elle would’ve gone to school with other kids and worn a fabulous prom dress like the ones I had admired on social media. She would’ve attended a good college and been in a hundred clubs and later worked as an archaeologist or art dealer or professor.

She would’ve been normal and unthreatening and free.

“I didn’t want to change you,” Dad said and hung his head. “I didn’t want to force you to be someone for the sake of survival. I thought-I thought I could protect you for longer.”

Dad hadn’t just protected me from those who hunted me, but from the weight of my future. He had let me follow my joy and hone my wits instead of my body. He had let me dream of being someone else, someone human.

Instead of fearing her, people would’ve liked human Elle.

I would’ve liked her.

The beast beneath my skin stirred.

But she wasn’t real.

And it was time for both of us to let her go.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hugged Dad again. He squeezed me so tightly, I wondered if he would be able to release me. Eventually, he did, and when I spoke, he listened.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for protecting me in ways I never realized, Dad, but I’m more than a magicless girl with her nose stuck in a book. I’m-I’m ready to be more.”

Dad nodded, and our training began anew.