Page 8 of The Wolf and the Chimera (The Witch and the Cowboy #3)

Elle

“Keep your hands up,” Ryder said again.

Though my arms ached from exhaustion, I did as he asked.

We faced each other in the corner of the estate’s spacious gym.

Barefoot, we stood on mats designed to soften the blow of one’s fall, or, in my case, my many falls.

To Ryder’s credit, not one of them had hurt—every time he swept my leg or maneuvered me to the ground, he cushioned my landing.

Weight machines, dumbbells, and other torture devices occupied the space to our left. A track hung from above us, and I looked at it longingly. Running, I could manage. I liked running.

Combat was not in my nature.

At least no one is here to witness your epic failure.

Ryder had insisted on training at a horrifically early hour. I suspected he didn’t want anyone to see how weak his mate truly was.

“Ellie.” Ryder sighed. “Are you even listening?”

“Yes,” I snapped, though I hadn’t been. “Stay on my toes, keep my knees softly bent, left foot slightly forward, and keep my hands up.”

He’d fired off the instructions so many times, I could’ve recited them in my sleep.

He raised an eyebrow. “Then why are your hands down by your chest again?”

Because we’ve been going at this for over an hour .

I raised them, and Ryder smirked.

“We’ve gotta protect that pretty face, remember?” he joked.

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think my fists would be enough to protect me from a vampire attack anyway, but carry on.”

Ryder’s jaw clenched. “Not with that attitude. Let’s see some jab-crosses.”

Ryder opened his palms, and I swung at them. My gloved hands bounced off them pathetically.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves too?” I asked.

Ryder snorted. “With the punches you’re throwing? They wouldn’t be enough to hurt a fly, much less a werewolf.”

I glowered in irritation. Though I doubted I would ever be good enough at combat to protect myself, I had shown up at four in the morning to appease his wishes. Now, I stood in borrowed workout clothes, covered in sweat, and shaking with fatigue, yet he still mocked me.

I punched at his hand with all my might, using my hips to drive more force behind the blow.

The burst of energy knocked me off balance and my swing missed his hand entirely.

Without his palm to stop my force, I twisted and careened into his torso.

Strong hands steadied my waist, and Ryder’s laughter tickled my braids.

Humiliated, I shoved myself out of his embrace and stormed toward the door. Faster than I could ever move, Ryder blocked my path and crossed his arms. His lips twitched with effort not to smile.

“Laugh,” he said. “You know you want to.”

Part of me did, but it was eclipsed by the fear I fought every day to quiet that now reared its ugly head.

“Maybe you can find amusement in how pathetic I am,” I argued, “but I don’t find the reminder particularly funny. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to see just how woefully outmatched I am by everyone who wants to kill me!”

All traces of humor left Ryder’s face. Something worse replaced it—pity. When I tried to sidestep him to get to the exit, he blocked my path once more. Exhaustion forgotten, I shook with anger.

“Get out of my way,” I demanded.

Ryder narrowed his eyes. “Make me.”

I scoffed. “You’re an asshole.”

I tried to skirt around him, but he stopped me again. I nearly smacked his broad, t-shirt clad chest with my face.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but I’m not asshole enough to let you keep feeling scared all the time.”

I flinched. Every day, I buried the fear that accompanied my existence like a shadow. In a handful of weeks, Ryder had brought it to light.

Not fair, I thought. Not fair that this powerhouse of a man gets to see right through me.

Ryder couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be hunted and vied for like a piece of treasure—like an object.

“Let me go,” I demanded and shoved his chest. He didn’t budge. “Let me go!”

Something fractured in my chest, and I unleashed it on him. I punched his broad chest with all my remaining strength. Anger eclipsed my fear and sharpened my aim. Ryder stumbled back a step, and I stopped.

We stood in silence only interrupted by our ragged breaths.

“Did you fake that?” I asked quietly. “Or did I actually cause you to move?”

He grinned. “That was all you, Ellie. I knew you had it in you—you just have to believe it too.”

Foolish joy bloomed in my heart. All I had managed to do was shake his balance—while he made no effort to fight back—but I had done something. From Ryder’s smile, he took it as a victory too.

Before I knew what I was doing, I swung my arms around his neck and hugged him. He stiffened but quickly pulled me even closer and buried his nose in my neck. His breath was hot against my skin .

What had started as a mindless, happy embrace sent heat down my spine. Ryder’s hands traveled leisurely up and down my back, but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to leave his warmth and strength and woodsy scent.

Gods, that scent.

Ryder lifted his face and stared at me with intensity I felt all the way down to my toes.

He stared at me like I held the world in my gaze.

His hands traveled to my waist and gripped me. Impossibly, he pulled me closer. Every soft curve of my body touched the hard planes of his. His face dipped lower, and I raised mine to meet him. As we drew closer and closer, his lips captured every facet of my attention.

The door yawned open, and the moment was broken.

I jumped in surprise, but Ryder rested his forehead against mine and grumbled something under his breath. The handful of werewolves—all of them young and male—whistled and hollered. My face heated.

Ryder released my waist but took my hand in his and snarled at the young wolves. They quickly quieted and made themselves busy with the weight machines.

As we left the gym and traveled up the simple stairway that led back to the glamorous halls of the estate, I tried and failed to calm my pounding heart. We hadn’t even kissed, yet that was easily the most sexual experience of my life.

It’s just because you have no experience to speak of, I reminded myself.

My childhood hadn't been like the ones in the coming-of-age novels I had devoured. I hadn't flirted with a boy in class or kissed someone after a first date.

I had never even gone on a date.

As I tried to reason with myself, my skin tingled from the memory of Ryder's touch.

It's not just inexperience, I reasoned. He's your godsdamned mate.

Stupid wolf magic was the reason for my pounding heart and weakened knees. Ryder’s cocky smile or his impossibly strong, toned body had nothing to do with it. His personality was definitely not what drew me to him.

We couldn’t stand each other.

As Ryder opened the door that led into one of the estate’s many opulent, white halls, his expression was impossible to read but his touch on the small of my back was tender. Despite his gruffness and unnatural strength, he never touched me with anything but gentleness.

He caught my stare but quickly averted his gaze. As I realized I possibly was the only one so greatly affected by our encounter, awkwardness stretched between us. My thoughts raced, and my face heated with embarrassment.

Look at him, I thought, he’s probably hooked up with hundreds of women. An almost-kiss is not a big deal.

Luckily, laughter bounced off the walls, and Kieran rounded the corner alongside a few other teenage wolves.

Relieved to have company other than my childish thoughts and stoic, silent Ryder, I smiled at the werewolves.

All of them were muscular, but they maintained the lankiness of youth.

When he noticed us, Kieran’s smile faltered.

The pink-haired girl at his side, with huge blue eyes and petite, pretty features, glowered at Ryder. Her pouty lips set in a thin line. A broad-shouldered man with short black hair and intense, angular eyes stood on Kieran’s other side. His jet-black hair glimmered under the light.

“Good morning, Elle,” Kieran greeted.

“Good morning,” I replied.

The pink-haired girl snorted. “Are we really exchanging pleasantries with your asshole half-brother and his so-called mate?”

Though I’d just called Ryder the same thing, her insult irritated me, as did her distinction of half- brother. Ryder’s grip on my hand tightened.

“Melanie,” Ryder said, “I see you’re still clinging to the Heir’s coattails. ”

I was constantly startled by the fact that Ryder knew these people. I had spent little time with them and Ryder’s pack, yet the two groups were like entirely different species. I wondered how much time Ryder had spent here or with his mother once she found her mate.

I wondered how badly that time together and apart had hurt him.

Melanie bared her teeth and took a menacing step forward, but the man to Kieran’s right reached for her, and she stopped. Ryder didn’t balk.

“He’s not worth it,” the dark-haired man told her in a soft, deep voice.

“And we’re making a bad impression in front of Elle,” Kieran chided. “She’s already stuck with Grumpy. She’s punished enough.”

Ryder tensed, but I rolled my eyes. All of Kieran’s comments were clearly designed to get a rise out of his brother. People didn’t poke at open wounds unless they still ached. Though Ryder failed to recognize it, I couldn’t ignore the hurt his brother clearly carried with him.

I looked up at Ryder, who stared at Kieran with unhidden disdain.

“Let’s go,” I said and tugged his hand.

He didn’t budge.

“Ryder,” I snapped.

He let me lead him past the other werewolves and into the wider, blessedly empty hall. Doors lined the cream walls, though I wasn’t sure where they led. Blue, gold, and black wallpaper stretched across the ceiling, interrupted by bright, round light fixtures.

We walked in silence, other than the soft patter of our footsteps. Throughout our journey across the chateau, we encountered only a few wolves who kept to themselves. When we crossed the threshold of our shared room, I spoke.