Then, when Nero started to turn, Yordan stuck a meaty finger at him. “Don’t you dare!” he growled. “You’re assigned here.” He glanced at Wiz. “You too.”
Which, apparently, was true, because Nero remained, though he refused to shift back to human. He retreated to a corner where he watched everything with steady wolf eyes. It was sort of like being watched by a police dog. The thing was polite, but it didn’t lessen the scare factor. Which left Wiz shirtless, barefoot, and in low-slung jeans. He shrugged and said, “Bring it on.”
Megamouth did. Calisthenics to warm everyone up, sparring outside to “show our stuff,” and when no one wanted to fight him, he sent everyone off on a horrendously freezing jog around the estate. And to deter anyone thinking of jumping the fence, Nero was there in his wolf form to make sure everyone stayed in formation.
And the most humiliating part of it all? Josh was the slowest. He didn’t mind being less capable than the trainers. They were probably subjected to this idiocy often. Laddin was Mr. Nervous Energy, so running was just another way to burn off calories. But being less in shape than Stratos—a woman who was the picture of a pale gamer geek—stung his male pride. Apparently even techies who spent their days and nights attached to their gear got more physical exertion than PhD students. It wasn’t his fault. He’d been in a cramped lab nearly 24/7 for five years now. Of course he was out of shape. He just hadn’t expected to bethispathetic, especially since Nero took great delight in nipping at his heels whenever he got too slow.
By the time they made it back to the mansion, Josh’s feet were numb, which was a very good thing, because he knew they were cut all to hell. He stumbled back into the main backyard only to hear everyone groan about something. Oh hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what. But as he collapsed on the frozen ground, he stared balefully at Laddin. “What now?” he groaned.
“No food,” the guy answered, his misery palpable.
Josh jerked upward. Dreams of a six-egg omelet were the only things that had kept him going for the last mile. “What?”
Megamouth came to stand right over him. “You able to shift yet?”
“I’m exhausted and starving. Plus, I was up all night trying to figure out your magical fire problem. Of course I can’t shift. No one has told me how.”
“It’s not atellthing. It’s adothing.”
That was it—that was all he said as he stared at Josh, expecting him to somehow poof into a wolf. Just like his father, who couldn’t understand why his son couldn’t catch a ball or punch a bully or handle tools in his machine shop. Just because they could do it without thinking, suddenly Josh was deficient because he wasn’t good with his hands. Or his body. Or anything physical at all.
“Spoken like every natural athlete on the planet. Congratulations. You’re good at something.” He straightened up onto his numb feet and matched the asshole glare for glare. And he said exactly what he’d been dying to tell his father since he was three years old. “Too bad you’re lousy atteaching, which is what you’re supposed to be doing right now. So if you want us to go wolf, thentellus how to do it!”
And just like with his father, his words meant jack shit. Megamouth poked him in the chest. “You’re pretty pissed off right now, aren’t you?”
Josh slapped the guy’s meaty arm away. “Yeah, I am.”
“What you going to do about it?” Another poke.
Josh slapped it away harder this time. Or at least he tried to. His swats didn’t seem to have a noticeable effect.
“Want to attack me? Want to rip my throat out like Bing tried? Huh? Huh?” Poke, poke, poke.
Yeah, he did, but he wasn’t stupid. No way could he take on Megamouth physically, and he didn’t have the ability to do a surprise shift. So he went where he always did when threatened: chemistry.
“I’m going to put methylene blue in your Gatorade and stain your teeth. I’m going to put sodium iodide and hydrogen peroxide in your toilet and wait for the next time you flush. And if you don’t take the hint, then maybe I’ll make sure that whatever the fuck solution I have to your plasma fire problem doesn’t work for you. And maybe then we’ll get a teacher who knows how to teach.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did, Megamouth lost his snide grin. It faded slowly until it was replaced with a cold, dark stare. “You’re threatening the life of a packmate?”
“I don’t see a pack here. And believe me, if I did, I wouldn’t be part of yours.”
“That’s right,” he replied. “Because I wouldn’t have you in mine. And for damn sure I’m not going to trust any tech you give me.”
“Exactly—”
“Which means you can’t trust any order I give you, any mission I send you on, or even any training scenario you land in.” He gripped Josh’s chin and tilted it up, forcing Josh to stare him in the eye. “A pack survives on trust, and you’ve just proven yourself too much of a whiny child to be worthy of it.”
Josh tried to rip his face out of the guy’s meaty fist, but the bastard’s grip was too strong. He had a dozen smartass things to say back, but he couldn’t move his jaw enough to say them. And right when he thought he might manage a garbled “Fuck you, asswipe,” Megamouth shoved him away.
“Maybe you’ll grow up after another run. Go!”
Josh wasn’t going anywhere. He was done with—
A sharp nip at his heels had him jumping sideways in surprise. It was Nero, standing between him and the mansion. And when Josh made to go into the house with everyone else, Nero snapped at him again. The bastard made it clear that Josh wasn’t going anywhere but on his run. Josh tried to feint left or right, but it didn’t work. Even a small dog was faster than him, and Nero was a huge wolf.
So Josh stood still. He’d be damned if—
“Ow!”
