Page 17 of The Tracker's Rage
“Is that so?”
I kicked off my shoes, removed my T-shirt, and threw it on top of my duffel bag. I stood in my sports bra and sweats.
“Give me some pointers.” I shook my arms and feet, trying to get limber. I’d learned how to throw good punches in my kick-boxing class, and how to use tricky holds and twists to get free from attackers, but none of that applied to fighting in wolf shape when I didn’t have opposable thumbs.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who did you fight?” Eric crossed his arms, clearly not in a hurry to teach me about lupine butt-kicking.
I sighed. “His name is Blake Foster.”
Eric’s eyebrows rose another inch, almost disappearing into his hairline.
“I take it you know him,” I said.
“You fought Blake Foster, twice, and lived to tell the tale? I think that means your fighting skills aren’t bad at all.”
“You’re kidding, right? He almost killed me, almost crushed me to death.”
“Still, here you are.”
I glanced over at the clock on the wall. “Now who’s wasting the precious three hours I have with you?”
It was 4:10 AM, and he would kick me out at 7 sharp. I had no more time to stand here talking. Besides, tomorrow and Wednesday were my last two days with him. He and Damien had agreed that Eric would teach me for five days, then I was on my own.
I wasn’t ready for that—not by a long shot.
“Precious time, indeed,” he said. “Okay, I’ll teach you what I can, but I’m not joking when I say that surviving Blake Foster is proof that you have innate fighting skills. Good werewolf hunters, werewolf warriors, werewolf leaders come by their abilities through their blood. There are things that cannot be taught. When humans are born, they are entirely helpless. We’re different. We can shift and walk in our wolf shapes right away. We know how to stalk, how to identify the smell of fear and blood, how to tell pack from foe. Your abilities are not trifling. They can be honed, yes, but you are, without a doubt, your father’s daughter.”
Anger flared in my gut, unbidden. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath, trying to focus on everything else he’d said, not that last bit. I failed.
“For someone who doesn’t want to tell me who my father is,” I said, “you certainly bring him up enough.” I didn’t know why I was goading him when I still hadn’t made up my mind about whether or not I wanted to know who he was.
“I will not avoid the topic if it’s relevant, only because it bothers you. As I was saying, your skills, though still not fully manifested, are considerable. So, let’s talk about fighting...” Eric put his hands behind his back and regarded me with his cold blue stare. “The first thing to know, as an alpha, is that fights can be avoided.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are a born leader, Sunder, and learning to wield your alpha powers can make others submit to you.”
“I don’t see how a wolf as big as Blake would submit to me.”
Eric smiled with little amusement. “Well, with that attitude...”
“You’re serious? I could have made Blake submit?”
“Yes.”
Holy shit.
“In theory,” he added, bursting my bubble.
I rolled my eyes. Way to get a girl excited.
“Blake is a strong beta,” he continued, “and yes, he’s big. That’s where he gets most of his confidence, but think about this, he belongs to,” Eric twirled his hand as if to call words from the aether, “Erickson’s pack, right?”
I nodded. He was probably thinking Ulfen and not Stephen, but that didn’t make a difference at the moment.
He paced in front of the mirrored wall. “I know for a fact that Erickson’s wolf isn’t bigger than Blake’s, the man’s a beast. There are actually very few that can reach that size. Perhaps your Jake could match him in size. I’ve never seen his wolf, but I’ve heard rumors that he is impressive.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” I growled, my voice a quiet rumble that I barely recognized. His words had acted like a poker to my anger, stoking it, raising its heat level. “He’s notmyJake, and he never will be.”
