Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 34 - Diversions

Hello there. Happy Ramadan. Happy Royal Wedding. Happy Exams. Whichever tickles your fancy.

I hit the dirt again. Hard. The air whooshed from my lungs, and my stomach throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I could hear the pounding in my head, and I could feel the pain echoing a second later. It was nothing new. The wound had closed, the internal damage had resolved itself, but the huge, blotchy bruise remained, even three days later.

This time, Eira let me pick myself up before she flew at me again, a flurry of fists and blows. I swept her legs out from under her, because she had put too much weight on her front foot, but even as she fell, a weight crashed into my back, sending me tumbling with her.

I managed to avoid crushing her — which was my mistake, apparently, because she used the opening to lodge a knee in my ribs. And as I faltered, my sister's hand touched my neck. In a real fight, she would've had her knife, and in a real fight, she would've opened my carotid, and I would've been—

"Dead," she sighed, "again."

Yes, I was. And she was barely winded. Lee had barely needed to involve himself. I knocked her hand away and sat up to knock the mud and grass from my back. I must have bitten my tongue at some point, so I spat out a mouthful of blood.

Lee threw up his hands, looking apologetic. "I think he's had enough, Eira."

I stared at him, and a few feet away Eira did the same. Within seconds, Lee was squirming, and soon he dropped his gaze.

But he had a point. Me against Eira — that was a fair fight. We each won as many as we lost. But throw Lee into the equation, and you had a serious imbalance. I could put one of them onto the ground, but the other would take the cheap shot at my back while I did it. Eira had never been above playing dirty, and Lee was a bloody rogue; there wasn't a scrap of honour between them.

So I was getting my ass kicked without a hope in hell of winning, ever, and now he was feeling uncomfortable with the undercurrents of masochism.

"Fine," he muttered. "Find someone else to beat you up, then."

And then he slipped away in the general direction of the showers, pulling off his sweaty shirt as he walked. It was warm for early May, and the sun was coaxing a sweat out of every shifter on the patch of grass designated for training and petty squabbles. On that morning, there were about a score of us, from assorted raiding teams.

Eira looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Plenty of potential training partners, but she wasn't sure we should involve anyone else, and I agreed with her. It was too personal — while I was at odds with my own wolf, I would rather not be scrapping with a stranger.

"It's because you're ignoring your wolf," Eira took it upon herself to inform me. She was right, of course. I was missing half of my instincts — the better half. But I couldn't listen to him without getting lectured on how we could be halfway across Snowdonia, cosying up to our mate, and I couldn't argue with him, because he was right.

"So ... maybe you should go see her?" she suggested when I didn't say anything.

No, I should not. If Jessie was my mate — and that was a big if — she could do without my shit. She could do without fraternising with a criminal, especially since New Dawn had started printing wanted posters that weren't far off the mark. I shook my head.

Eira sighed at me. Within a minute, I had found my feet, spread them and settled into the slight crouch which began every fight. She almost did the same, but something stopped her. It was probably the look in my eyes.

"I'm done, too, Ric," she said softly. "Sorry."

Fine. Eira wasn't one for emotional coddling, so I trusted the call. If she thought it was time to stop, it was time to stop. I dropped my shoulders, letting my body relax for the first time in an hour. And, after taking a minute to catch our breaths properly, we left the training ground together. Eira seemed to have a destination in mind, and I tagged along obediently.