Page 20 of The Alpha’s Chosen Mate

Chapter Nine

HARRISON

18 years old, January 1991

The only weak wolf is an untrained wolf.

I’ve heard my dad say this countless times. He ingrained it in me from an early age, and he’s ingrained it in all the Crescent Lake warriors.

But there’s more to it than that. There’s nuance to it. It’s not as straightforward as the more you train, the stronger your wolf is. You can train until your feet fall off, but without self-confidence, you’re stuck at square one.

Which is why, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve added my own mantra to my dad’s: You’re only as weak as you believe yourself to be.

And right now, Emily still believes she’s weak—the weakest of the weak, the lowest of the low. My job is to convince her she’s wrong. To believe in her until she can believe in herself.

Beyond helping her shift, getting her to believe she’s strong is my primary goal.

“Are you ready?”

Emily stands with me at the edge of the training field closest to the forest, arms crossed over her chest. She’s pulled her light-brown hair into a ponytail, and she wears a cobalt tracksuit that makes her gray eyes lean blue. It’s a week after her failed shift, and her bruises are finally gone. But the defeat lingers, settling deep in her demeanor.

I hope I’m enough to bring her spirit back.

“I’m scared.” The confession falls from her lips in a shy whisper. “What if I fail again?”

“You won’t.”

My fingers twitch to reach out and reassure her by squeezing her shoulders, but I refrain. She’s closed herself off from me in the week since she left the pack hospital, and I don’t want to push her further away by crossing a line.

Instead, I opt to dip my head and force her to meet my eyes. “I’m an excellent teacher, remember?”

That remark earns me a smile. A short-lived one, but I’ll take what I can get.

“And you’re a fast learner,” I remind her.

“Learning to catch berries is much different from learning how to be a real werewolf.”

“I’m not sure.” I rub my chin, pretending to mull over the idea, hoping to get another reaction from her. “As the resident expert on both, I’d say they’re incredibly similar.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Harrison.” No smile. Just words.

“You’ve already mindlinked,” I point out. “So you’re well on your way to being a ‘real’ werewolf.”

“I can’t mindlink.”

“You can mindlink. You already have.”

She flinches back, confused. “When?”

“In the hospital. I mindlinked you. I asked if you could hear me. You didn’t reply, but I could feel your mind listening to me.”

“That was a mindlink? I thought it was all in my head.”

“Well, it was in your head. Technically.”

“Ha. Ha.” She relaxes a little, shaking out her arms and loosening up her shoulders. “So, what’s first?”

“First, we warm up. It may not be a very chilly January this year, but your muscles are still cold. You need to stretch so you don’t injure yourself and—”