Page 82 of Wolf Cursed
Idrissa looked at me expectantly. “Got it?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I looked back and forth between them, realizing, for the first time since I’d volunteered myself, that I was inevitably going to get killed in that fight.
“Just put your hands up,” Idrissa said impatiently.
I did as she asked and then was promptly tossed onto my ass.
Rubbing my hip, I glared up at her from the ground. “What the hell?” I demanded. “You said you weren’t going to hurt me.”
“You have to plant your feet,” she said.
“This is going to take a while,” Isaac said and wandered off to drag over a lawn chair.
I took a deep breath and climbed to my feet for round two.
Two hours later, my ass whooping was complete, but my wolf hadn’t so much as stirred. Isaac had switched with Idrissa halfway through, and I now knew better than to think he would be easier on me than his badass sister. He was not.
If anything, he was harder because he “believed in me” as he put it. Between punches and kicks, he shouted inspirational quotes like “you only get out what you put in.”
I wanted to punch him but damn if I landed a single swing on that encouraging mouth of his.
Sweaty, exhausted, and pretty convinced I was going to die in that fight, I sprawled on the grass and waited for my lungs to either fail me or recover. I’d surrendered to either option at this point.
Isaac stood over me, drizzling water into my open mouth. Idrissa tossed a towel at my feet and paced.
“You need some serious conditioning,” she said.
“How does conditioning help trigger my wolf?” I asked, mostly because the thought of hard exercise kind of made me want to eat donuts and yell curse words.
“Our wolves need the freedom of running, especially on the full moon. If you offer that up, maybe she’ll take the bait and want to join you,” Isaac explained.
Idrissa nodded her agreement. “We’ll start with running every morning.”
I groaned.
“Push-ups, Sit-ups,” she went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“The bag at the gym would help with the sense of threat,” Isaac said.
She stopped and gave him a look. “Yes, except the gym is full of Silas and his crew.”
“Assholes,” Isaac muttered.
Idrissa went back to pacing. “You also need to work on your—”
“What’s that?” Isaac asked.
I looked up at where he stood over me, bottle of water poised to pour into my mouth. He was staring at something on my stomach. I followed his gaze and realized with horror that my leggings had tugged down on my hips.
Shit.
The mark.
“Nothing,” I said, pulling the waistline up as Idrissa marched closer.
“It looked like ink,” Isaac said.
“It’s my zodiac sign,” I said.
