Page 53 of Taming of a Wolf

“Then come out here and show me how to make it.”

The door opens, and Jace comes out, face sticky with tears and snot.

“Wash your face, then get in here.”

Nodding glumly, he goes into the bathroom, returning moments later with his face still splotchy but clean. “What do you need help with?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

Surveying the beast of a contraption before me, I say, “How in Hel’s name do you work this thing?”

The boy manages a laugh, face brightening as he grabs a big pan and hefts it up onto the stove. He flicks the knob, and I jump back when bright blue flame bursts to life beneath the pan.

“Ah. That was… simple.”

“It’s not too hard. And you can adjust the temperature too, see?” He rotates the knob, reducing the flame’s brightness. While I wait for the pan to heat, I stare uselessly at the broccoli.

“Need a knife? They’re in here.” Jace slides open a drawer built into the counter, revealing many knives of various lengths and blade types.

Picking up a knife that looks suitable for chopping vegetables, I set to work. “Put another pan on the stove, lad.” Once that is done, I throw the chopped broccoli in and turn on the heat. I also toss in some diced onions.

“You should put this on too.” Jace holds up a bottle of something. “It’s soy sauce. It’ll make it taste better.”

Opening the bottle, I give the contents a sniff and recoil. It smells salty, but I’ll trust the boy’s judgment. Once I’ve poured alittle of the contents over the vegetables, I watch the steak sizzle in the pan. “Who did that to your face?” I ask, motioning at the bandage on his cheek.

Jace’s nose wrinkles in anger. “Kevin. He’s a jerk. He’s always teasing me.”

A growl rumbles up from my chest. “Why?”

Bobbing his shoulders, Jace sighs. “Don’t know. I never did anything to him.”

“Children can be cruel.” There’s a sour taste in my mouth. “Especially when another child has something they do not.”

A memory bursts into my mind of me shoving Wulfric to the ground and laughing with the boys I’d thought were my friends as he’d cried.

“Were you bullied too?” Jace asks.

I rotate my jaw, muscles popping. I don’t have the heart to tell him I was just like the boy who bullied him… still am, in some ways. “I can tell you that the whelp’s behavior has nothing to do with you. So, you had enough and hit him, yes?”

“I tried.” Jace glowers at his fists. “I suck at fighting back. He’s way bigger and stronger than I am.”

An idea pops into my head. Turning my back on the stove, I hold up my hand, palm facing him. “Hit it.”

Jace’s eyes go round with surprise. “What?”

“You want to learn how to defend yourself or not? Hit it.”

Holding up his fist like he’s only just noticing it for the first time, he smacks his knuckles against my palm. It’s like a punch from a puffin.

“Again,” I growl.

“But what if I—”

“You won’t hurt me.”

He hits my fist again, leaving behind a dull ache.

“Again!” I snarl.

With a frustrated shout, Jace pounds my palm with his fist, making vibrations tingle up my arm.

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