I swallowed and stepped into the ring. My side still ached faintly from the wound that had nearly ended me weeks ago, but the pain was nothing compared to the focus sharpening in my chest. Skylar’s magic brought me back from the brink of death, but I was drained. And my alpha ordered me to rest and recover.
Zola turned to face me, eyes unreadable, black as the space between stars—endless and mesmerizing. Her expression softened faintly, just enough for me to glimpse her excitement for our sparring match.
There was a challenge there, one that both infuriated and excited me. Shifters were born to fight, to respond to a challenge, and rise above.
My little shadow better be ready for me.
“Ready?” she asked, voice low but steady.
“Always,” I replied.
We circled one another, carefully testing and measuring strengths and weaknesses in the slow motions around the ring. The world beyond us faded—the shouts of the other warriors, the metallic tang of the yard. Even Gunnar’s cackling all but disappeared beneath the intensity of my focus.
Zola struck first.
She was ruthless, fast, and precise. Her blades were silver arcs in the reflecting sunlight. I blocked her first strike. The force of the vibration of metal on metal shivered up my arm. I noted the small adjustment she made as she followed through—tiny, subtle, a detail most would have missed.
But not me.
Her wrist twisted, and one of her blades nicked my shoulder. Pain flared, bright and immediate. I breathed through it, keeping calm, cataloging the strike.
That’s nothing, I thought.I’ll let her have that.
I countered, pivoting to use her momentum against her. My own blade cut low, forcing her to twist away from a deadly strike to her thigh. Her eyes flicked to mine for a second, with a flash of acknowledgment showing in her smirk. She recognized skill when she saw it. It pleased me on a primal level to know I was impressing her.
“You’re holding back,” she said.
“So are you,” I replied.
She huffed a laugh, her grin feral.
Then in the next second, she leaped toward the corner of the ring cast in shadow and vanished. I only caught the faintest shift of air where she had been, searching for where she might appear next.
I adjusted my stance, knowing she could leap into any shadow and then quietly stalk me from a new position. My instincts sharpened.
Unfortunately for her, I could sense her even when she was unseen. The bond hummed faintly beneath my skin, guiding me. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes to concentrate, blade at the ready.
Come and get me, my little shadow.
In a blur, I sensed her reappear behind me, throwing a blade aimed at my spine. I spun in time, steel meeting steel with a loud clang, causing the hairs along my arms to lift. My panther surged inside me, claws itching, muscles coiling. A heat stirred within as my shifter magic rose to the surface. I hadn’t released my panther since the day I almost died.
The world snapped into focus—every sound, every scent, every minute movement of her body as she stalked me around the ring.
Leaning my head back, I glanced at my mate. “Get ready.”
In the next instant, I shifted, and everything came into clear focus. Fur replaced skin in a beat, and I landed on all fours, tail sweeping behind me. The true predator that lived within my soul was now awake.
She froze for a moment. Then the faintest smile crested her lips. “Well… now it’s a real fight.”
I growled softly, not as a threat, but a promise.
She vanished again, leaving only the shadowed space where she’d been. I followed instinctively, my senses stretching, my heart racing, yet I remained calm, calculating, predicting.
We moved through a warrior’s dance of blades and claws. Strike, vanish, counter, lunge—each of us measuring the other, testing, learning. Each strike carried meaning. Each attack was a conversation in a language only we knew. Every time I thought I had her cornered, she melted into darkness and appeared again, blades repositioned and ready to attack once more.
Gunnar’s voice cut through the hum of concentration. “Shifter, you might want to watch your tail.”
I rolled my eyes as a small snort escaped me. Gunnar had a unique way of lifting the tension, even in the middle of a fight.
