*
FARLEY STOOD ONthe platform, explaining events to the gathered packs. Finding Weston hovering by the podium, Keon gave his Beta the nod to say Eliseo and his team had left. His Beta returned the gesture and gasped loudly.
“I forgot my notebook. Please forgive me, Alpha.” Weston directed his words to Farley, as the senior Alpha in residence.
Weston ran to the house, and the Meskli continued his speech faultlessly, finishing his explanation of why the challenge was needed, and introducing the challengers: Keon, and Thatcher’s son, Usher.
As the speech ended, Keon grew twitchy. Weston was taking forever.
“You couldn’t find a challenger?” Usher sneered as he bobbed and shimmied in place like an old-fashioned boxer.
Keon rolled his eyes and conserved his energy. “I can fight my own battles,” he argued, though he’d enjoy teaching the arrogant sod a lesson. Like how an Alpha should always fight his challenges. Thatcher was beyond the age most would be expected to face a challenge, but knock ten years off him and Keon would have demanded he fight.
“Ah, Beta!” Farley’s voice rang loud and clear, directing them to Weston settling on a step of the podium. “Prepared to make notations for the official record?”
“Yes, Alpha.” The words were for, and directed to, the Meskli, but Weston immediately glanced at Keon and winked.
Relief Eliseo and his team had crossed through the doorway safely flooded him. Keon had done what he could. It was time to face Usher, give him the beating of his life, teach him a lesson, and get Thatcher off his land, in that order.
Keon shook his limbs to loosen them and thanked his hectic schedule for improving his stamina. He’d never been this fit in Dnara. From pizza to TV marathons, distractions limited his workout schedule. Here, life was devoid of those temptations, leaving him nothing but long runs in the forest, lifting Simeon’s weights, letting his m’weko out, and forcing his unwieldy limbs to adapt to yoga. Anything to keep him limber, fit, and prepared for anything. Like this fight.
“I’m gonna eat you for breakfast,” Usher gloated, drawing closer.
Keon faced him head-on. “Yeah? I hope you choke, because I’m nothing but repressed grief and anger.”
Confusion flickered in Usher’s dull eyes, and he took a faltering step when Farley called his name. Usher responded, sending a last uncertain glance at Keon. Without needing to be called, Keon moved to Farley’s left, as Usher was positioned on his right. He bowed respectfully to the Meskli, while the bastard interloper glanced at Farley and snuffed. Keon didn’t need to ask, because blatant disrespect for the Meskli would be punished the moment the challenge was over.
He had a feeling Farley would have a lot to say to Thatcher when this fight was done. Keon hoped he’d get to hear every word.
As Farley raised his hands, the two packs fell silent. The effortless power he displayed in the dark night, the moon shining and flickering torches at the four corners of the podium, was a feat Keon wished he could master.
“The rules are clear,” Farley called, having run through them prior to the meeting. “This is a fight to the surrender. The challengers may fight as men or m’weko, butmustfight in the same body as their opponent for the entirety of the fight. If one shifts, the other must follow. The challenger, Thatcher’s fighter, will determine the shifts.” He sniffed, evidently displeased with that. “The aim is to stop your opponent from continuing the fight, butnotto permanently disable them. Death blows will be dealt with severely. You are m’weko and know what will cause irreparable harm. Myself and the resident Beta, Weston, will be taking detailed notes of infractions to the rules.”
Farley stared at Usher. “Are you in agreement with the rules I have set?” Usher nodded, leaving Farley to turn to Keon. “Alpha Keon, are you in agreement with the rules I have set?”
“I am, Alpha.”
“We’re ready,” Usher said, giving Farley no time to declare the fight. When Usher took a half step and transitioned into his m’weko, snarling as he landed on four feet, Farley barely stepped aside in time to avoid an injury.
When a guard stepped in to reprimand him, Farley raised a hand to stop him. He met Keon’s gaze across the podium, the smell of polished leather, the trickle of sweat emanating from Usher, and the darkness shrouding his senses.
A single nod from the Meskli spoke volumes.Take him.
He intended to.
Retreating from Usher’s challenge, Keon bought space to move freely and stripped off the ceremonial clothes. Naked, he rolled his shoulders and made the transition from human to m’weko. Despite Drew’s struggles, Keon didn’t feel the excruciating pain and breaking bones of his shift. As ‘half animals’, equal parts animal and human, m’weko possessed two bodies meant to be shared and traded with ease.
A thrill raked his spine as Keon the man—five seven, with dark hair and jade-green eyes—became a m’weko as tall as his chest, broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, and teeth bared. Green eyes, warm as a human, became ice cold as m’weko, glittering with undisguised contempt. The man barely a threat to Usher, at six foot, with an impressive build, had become far more dangerous.
Keon snorted his amusement at Usher’s reaction, brown human eyes becoming copper, wide with shock.Yeah, not as easy as you thought,he thought with grim satisfaction.
Usher was a big guy, taller and wider in human form. Keon’s m’weko stood a chance against him in a physical fight, but he’d learned brawn wasn’t his favourite weapon. The few times he’d bested his brothers, he’d used his mind. He intended to do the same with Usher, who showed the same aggressive, disrespectful nature his brothers had.
When Usher lunged, snapping his jaw, Keon growled and rolled to the side, taking a swipe at his rear leg. His claws made minimal contact, scraping the fur in a scratch. His pack cheered for first blood, in a battle whose sole purpose was to weaken and tire the enemy. Keon’s plan was to wear Usher out, bleed the m’weko until he lost the will to fight.
His roll brought him to his feet, prepared when Usher circled and snapped at his heels. Keon twisted and caught Usher with a bite to his tail. A yelp announced he’d made contact, letting him step aside and evaluate his opponent. Circling wasn’t productive, as it drained energy, but Usher proved a fan. Keon had enough stamina to last hours at this pace, intending to keep Usher occupied as long as possible.
Minutes passed, the senses taking priority.
