The part of my mind that understands where Grant is coming from is shoved into a deep, dark corner. I can tell that he's in alpha mode and just wants to fix whatever problems his pack is having. That's still not the best excuse.
When I finally get tired of using up half of the house’s water, I step out of the bathroom. Most of my energy is back now, and I'm nowhere near as tired as I was more than thirty minutes ago.
I know that I have a few advantages over shifters who were born this way, and maybe quick recovery is one of them.
I step out of my room, turning to look down the hallway. The sounds from the room adjacent to me indicate that Grant is back at work.
I'm not ready to see him just yet.
I head in the opposite direction and walk down the stairs. Molly is waiting at the bottom, wearing her apron. There's a very sweet smellcoming from the kitchen nearby, and it has the chef's name written all over it.
“Good morning, Molly,” I greet.
“Good morning, dear. I'm glad to see you're back. How're you feeling?”
Just great. I'm sure everyone sees me as the wolf too scared to turn back. God, I'm so embarrassed.
“I'm alright,” I state. “Something smells good.” Even though it's the truth, I'm happy to use that as a distraction to pull the conversation away from me.
“Thanks. I'm trying out a few new muffin recipes. Maybe you'd like to be my taste tester.”
My eyes widen. “Are you kidding? I'd love to.”
“Awesome, but not right now, though. Give it some time.”
“Oh, okay, I'll be in the gym if you need me.”
I wave goodbye to her before strolling to the empty gym. There's an unfamiliar scent, likely from one of the wolves that came for the transformation. But now, I have it all to myself.
I walk over to my favorite area, put on a pair of boxing gloves, and get to work. All my anger and frustration are poured into the large punching bag. I use every bit of force I can muster, hitting the bag with groundbreaking power.
I'm not sure how long I spent releasing my anger, but it must've been over an hour. The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes me pause mid-punch.
I take deep breaths, trying to regain my composure before Molly appears. I don't want her to see me being wild with anger.
It's not Molly who appears at the entrance, though. It's Grant. He shows up in a sleeveless shirt, revealing absurdly ripped arms.
He folds them over his chest, making them pop even more. Looking down from that, I see that he has shorts on, exposing toned legs.
This isn't the first time I've seen him like this, but the view is still enough to make me pause every single time. However, I soon remember that Grant is the reason I'm so worked up in the first place.
I look away from him and go back to beating the shit out of the punching bag.
“Try to drive like you're going upward,” he says, not moving from the door. “That'll generate enough force.”
“You've come to tell me what to do again?” I throw back at him.
He grunts and moves from the door frame. “I was making suggestions, Leena. I haven't given you orders. Believe me, if I give you an order, you'll know it.”
Grant's words make me shudder, causing a tingle in my spine. I hate how he has this sort of effect on me, even when I'm upset.
He reaches me and moves past the punching bag, before picking up a few wearable pads for his hands. He drops his phone on the floor before coming back to meet me.
“You hate to hear it,” Grant says as he wears the pads, “but that doesn't mean it's not the truth. Turning often helps with the pain.”
“You don't even have any regard for how I feel about this,” I counter.
Grant lifts his hands, urging me to punch them. “Come on.”
