Bechora
My lungs burned as I raced across campus to the training pitch. I’d lost track of time in the library, reading through the handful of books the librarian helped me find aboutmates. I’d managed to read through two of them fully, not finding much about demon mates, before the clock above the librarian’s desk chimed out, causing me to realize I was going to be late to combat class if I didn’t hurry. I skidded to a stop at the end of the line of students just as the professor strolled onto the field.
“Greetings. I am Professor Rumlock, and this is combat training.” The tall, muscular fae spoke, his voice booming across the pitch. “Our first lesson will be spent working to gauge your current combat abilities. Once you’ve all changed into your training gear, we will go through a series of warm-up exercises, and then I will pair you off to assess your skills.”
Nerves fluttered in my stomach as his eyes moved along the line of students, the white scar cutting across his left eye down the side of his face, giving him a severe look. Something about the male screamed violence, and I worried I would be found lacking. Sure, I’d lived on the streets, fighting for literal scraps to survive, but I’d never had any formal training.
“The male’s locker room is to the left, and the female’s to the right. You will find lockers with your name on them containing your gear. You have fifteen minutes to change and be back on the pitch ready to go,” Rumlock barked out.
We scattered like mice, hurrying to our designated locker rooms. It was almost shocking how normal the girls looked. There were rows of lockers with benches in front of them andshower stalls tucked away in the far corner. The familiarity of it was comforting as I scanned the labeled lockers, finding mine. Tucked inside were a pair of black, form-fitting pants littered with various weapon sheaths, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a vest. I changed as quickly as I could, trying not to marvel at how sturdy the material felt under my fingers, before putting on the black tennis shoes provided for me and making my way back to the training ground.
In the short span of time since we’d left the field to change, it had been transformed. In place of the green field were various training mats and weapons racks. Professor Rumlock stood in front of the nearest mat; his arms crossed over his chest as he watched students file out of the locker rooms. His hard expression was the only thing that kept me from gawking at the new setup.
After several more minutes, Professor Rumlock dropped his arms to his side and began calling out orders, organizing us into neat rows. Once he was satisfied with our formation, he began a series of exercises meant to get our heart rate up and muscles warm. The warm-up alone worked muscles I didn’t realize I even had, which was saying something considering all the ways I’d worked my body on stage at the club.
I was starting to think the combat professor just enjoyed torturing us with the insanity he called a warm-up when he finally started splitting us into pairs. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the way the professor paired students off as I watched girls be paired with boys and take their place on the mats. I felt a brief moment of relief when I was partnered with another female—at least until she gave me a predatory grin once we faced each other across our assigned mat.
“You will be allowed to use your abilities when you spar. This will help you hone them as tools in your arsenal. The pitch is spelled against lethal actions, so this is the one place on the grounds you will be able to use your magic to its full extent. As I’m sure many of you have noticed by now, the rest of thecampus prevents some of the more harmful magic from being used outside of specific spaces. That is not the case in this class. Many of you will be carried off the mats today and taken to the infirmary.”
My heart dropped into my stomach as Professor Rumlock continued his speech. I had no idea how to access my magic. Everything I’d managed so far was an accident while I was sleeping. Looking across the mat to find my sparring partner still wearing a feral grin, I knew I was going to have to fight dirty—and even then, I would probably still be one of the students carted off to the infirmary.
“You may begin!” Rumlock’s voice boomed across the pitch.
My partner immediately shifted into a bear without a care for her training uniform.
“Oh shit,” I squeaked as she swiped a large paw at me.
I barely managed to dodge the swipe, her claws snagging on one of the weapon slots on my right thigh and tearing it open. She lumbered backward before letting out a roar and charging me. I dove to the mat, avoiding the impact and finding myself under her furry belly.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I gritted out, shaking my hands in the hopes that something would happen.
The bear chuffed almost like she was laughing at my inability to defend myself against her and swiped a paw under her body where I lay on my back. I screamed as her claws tore through my vest and shirt, digging deep into my shoulder.
“How the fuck am I supposed to fight a bear?” I whimpered, grabbing my wounded arm and kicking my feet at her belly as hard as I could.
Somehow, I managed to get out from under her and scramble to my feet at the far side of the mat. She paced on her side, her lips pulled back in what I could only describe as a twisted, taunting grin. My eyes roamed over her massive form, looking for any weak points, but I didn’t know anything about bears to know what I should be looking for. The girl stopped pacing, and I could tell she was about to charge when a bolt oflightning struck her in the back, crashing from the sky with a loud crack. My mouth fell open in awe as the scent of burnt hair and flesh overtook my senses.
“Sorry!” a curvy blonde called from a few mats away. “Sorry, I wasn’t aiming there!”
“Ms. Forrester!” Professor Rumlock’s voice called out. “Aim for your own sparring partner!”
“Yes, sir! Sorry!” the girl squeaked out.
My stomach roiled in relief as I eyed the now unconscious bear splayed out on the opposite side of my mat. I kept my hand pressed against my injured shoulder, blood pouring through my fingers as I waited for the professor to make his way to me.
“Mr. Dreadgrave,” he barked out, catching the attention of a lean-built male with brunette hair twisted into a bun at the back of his head. “If you would please take Ms. Tarrene and Ms. Knight to the infirmary.”
“Yes, sir,” the guy called out, moving from his mat to mine so fast that he was a blur.
“And Gabriel, I feel compelled to remind you that, though Ms. Knight may be bleeding, she is not your thrall. Fangs to yourself,” Professor Rumlock said sternly.
Gabriel chuckled under his breath as he lifted the unconscious bear over his shoulder with ease. He jerked his head for me to follow and headed off the pitch. I kept some distance between us, the professor’s words still ringing in my ears.
“You should pick up the pace,” Gabriel called back to me, not bothering to take his eyes off the direction he was walking. “I don’t need eyes to know you’ve lost a lot of blood. I can smell it.”
“You… you cansmellit?” I squeaked out, picking up my pace.
“Well, yeah. I’m a vampire. Of course I can smell it.” He scoffed.
