“I think you’ll manage.” There’s a glint of challenge in his eyes. “Besides, I like to know the measure of wolves in my territory.”
This is a test.
“I assume you’ve got rules about not maiming guests,” I say dryly.
He laughs, the sound surprisingly warm from such an imposing figure. “First blood or yield. Nothing permanent.”
“Fair enough.”
We move to the center of the yard, circling each other warily. Ryker is built like the predator he is—powerfulshoulders, efficient movement, eyes that miss nothing. His reputation as a warrior is legendary, and I can see why.
He strikes first—a quick jab that I barely deflect, followed by a sweep that nearly takes my legs out from under me. I counter with a straight right that he slips away from with insulting ease.
“Not bad,” he comments, circling again. “But you’re telegraphing your moves. And you’re slow.”
“I’m definitely out of practice,” I admit. “Let’s go again.” His next attack comes faster, a combination that forces me to give ground. I block the worst of it but take a glancing blow to the ribs that makes me wince.
“Lithia’s changed since she returned,” Ryker says conversationally, as if we’re not in the middle of a fight. I feint left, then drive in with a shoulder check that catches him by surprise. He stumbles back a step before regaining his balance.
“Is this where you tell me not to hurt your Beta?”
“Lithia can take care of herself,” he replies, landing a solid hit to my solar plexus that leaves me gasping. “But she’s more than my Beta. She’s family.”
I understand what he’s trying to say. This isn’t just the Alpha protecting a pack member, this is personal.
“I would never hurt her.” I block his next strike and counter with one of my own. “Not intentionally.”
“Intentions aren’t always enough,” Ryker replies, his tone thoughtful rather than accusatory. “Especially for someone who’s spent so long alone.”
The observation stings because there’s truth in it. I’ve been a nomad for most of my adult life, never staying anywhere long enough to form real attachments. What do I know about commitment, about pack bonds, about the kind of loyalty that keeps a wolf in one place for years?
But I know Lithia. I know what she means to me.
Pissed off now, I unleash a flurry of attacks, driving Ryker back across the yard. He blocks most of them, but I manage to slip past his guard with a strike that opens a small cut above his eye.
First blood.
“Match,” I say, stepping back.
Ryker touches the cut, looking at the blood on his fingertips. “Shit. Kitara’s gonna give me hell if I come back with this.” With his Alpha healing, the cut is already closing. He swipes his hand on his jeans. “You’re not as rusty as you claimed.”
I shrug. “Survival’s a good teacher.”
“So it is.” He offers his hand, and I take it, surprised by the firm clasp of his fingers around mine. “You’re welcome to train with us. The pack could use someone with your skills.”
The invitation surprises me. It stretches beyond a simple sparring, to one that offers the opportunity to stay.
I can’t help myself. “Playing matchmaker for your Beta, Alpha?”
Ryker’s eyes sharpen, all traces of casual conversation gone. “Let me be clear, Kier. I don’t invite wolves into my pack because they’re fucking someone I care about.”
I wince.
“I see a wolf who survived three years in a prison that would have broken most of my wolves in months,” he continues, his voice low and serious. “I see you have combat skills sharp enough to draw blood from an alpha—despite your weakness. I see someone who risked his freedom to save one of mine.” His mismatched eyes bore into me. “That’s what I’m interested in.Notwho you’re sleeping with.”
The rebuke is gentle but firm, and I feel properly chastised… and appreciated. It’s a weird feeling. “Thanks. I’ll consider your offer.”
He nods, then turns to leave, but pauses after a few steps. “For what it’s worth,” he says, his mismatched eyes holding mine, “I think you’d be good for the pack. And us for you.”
