“What kind of training?”
“Controlled stress exposure. We’ll teach your body that a threat doesn’t mean you have to shift.”
He was quiet for a moment, thinking about the night before. The things she’d done to him had triggered something deep inside him. He trusted her. Wanted to please her. If anyone could help him learn to control himself, it was Siren.
Siren found them a camping spot deep in the national forest and parked the van near a clearing. There hadn’t been any sign of other people for miles. The clearing was fifty feet across and ringed by pines and carpeted by dry grass. Reed stood at the center of the clearing with Siren facing him.
“This isn’t about fighting,” she said. “You’re a grizzly. Your bear knows how to fight instinctively. This is about control. About choosing when to shift instead of letting your bear choose for you.”
“How do we start?” he asked.
She stepped closer and the scent of her enveloped him. “You stay human. No matter what I do.”
He nodded.
She slapped him across the face. Hard.
The crack echoed through the clearing. His head snapped sideways, heat blooming across his cheek. His bear surged up instantly, snarling, clawing inside his chest.
Reed clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose. The bear pushed harder, but he held it down.
“Good,” Siren said, nodding. She circled behind him. “You had the instinct to shift, but you didn’t.”
“Yeah.” His voice came out rough.
“That’s your nervous system trying to protect you. It thinks you’re in danger. It wants to give you claws and teeth and eight hundred pounds of muscle.” She came back around to face him again. “Your job is to convince it that you don’t need those things.”
She hit him again. Harder this time. With a closed fist to his shoulder that spun him sideways.
His bear roared. Reed felt his hand start to change, bones aching, claws pushing at his fingertips. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced it back.
“You’re holding.” Her voice was clinical. “Just barely. I saw your hand start to shift.”
He opened his eyes and looked down. His fingers were human, but the knuckles were swollen, red like the claws had been right there under the skin.
“What now?”
“Now I make it harder.”
She shoved him and he stumbled back before catching himself. She shoved him again, following, not letting him get his balance.
“You’re soft,” she said. “You know that? You’re a liability. Every second I spend protecting you is a second I can’t spend on this mission.”
She swept his legs, and he hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through his spine.
“If you’d shifted during the ambush with any control, you could have helped. Instead, you panicked like a child. You lost control, and I had to handle six men while you ran around in circles.”
She stood over him. Her face cold and empty.
“You’re not a warrior, Reed. You’re not even useful. You’re just a witness I need to babysit.”
He knew what she was doing. Trying to provoke him. But knowing that didn’t stop the shame from flooding through him. It didn’t stop the anger.
His bear was howling now. Demanding release. His skin prickled with the shift trying to break through.
“Stay human,” Siren commanded.
“I’m trying.”
