Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1) by Kelly St. Clare

Author:Kelly St. Clare [St. Clare, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-05T18:30:00+00:00

16

I punched the pad, setting my teeth.

“You seem… angry,” Rhona noted, nearly stumbling back with the force of my hit.

I grunted. Correct.

The name switch shouldn’t bother me. The Alarick and Sascha thing. But it did—more so, since I learned Alarick was the fake alias.

Why did he lie? I wasn’t even a threat back then—unless he counted my similarity to Rhona as reason enough.

“Just tired,” I told her as the timer went off.

Gerry, the old trainer, nodded, moving to where Wade and Cameron sparred at a far higher level. I winced as Wade smashed his fist downward, just missing the intended target as Cameron shifted her head to the left.

Rhona pulled off my gloves, and I tossed my liners in the laundry basket, groaning as I shook out my arms.

Ouch.

That earned me a grin from Rhona. “You’re gonna be sore after that.”

No kidding. Angry punching was only a good idea if a person had actual arm muscles.

We walked to a large red oak, and I leaned against the trunk, accepting water from her.

“What were your thoughts on last night?” she asked, sitting straight-backed and alert.

Uh. That this was far more of a war than I realised.

“We won,” I answered. “The violence of the game was a shock. That could take me a while to stomach.”

“We can’t pull Operation Charise again,” Rhona said. “That was a one-off. If the Luthers win and pick Sandstone again, we’ll need something else to keep them at bay. Something good.”

That I agreed with—simply for knowing Sascha Greyson.

Kind of.

I scowled.

Rhona slid me a twinkling look. “Let’s try a switch on Dad.”

“He’ll see through it.” We might have inherited our appearance from Grandmother Charise, but our personalities were as different as night and day.

“Usually, yes. But when you were hungover pissed off the other day, you had everyone convinced. And for whatever reason, you’re just as pissed off today. This could work.”

I tilted my head as she stood, dusting off her exercise tights.

“You’re not always angry,” I told her, accepting a hand up.

She looped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t lie to me.”

Not a lie.

Saying the words aloud would drive her away though. We were hardened shells. Hers was painted in defensiveness, and mine in emotional distance.

What a pair.

She stopped us in the manor entrance, glancing around.

Our clothing was similar enough. Black exercise tights. I had a white T-shirt on. Hers was light grey. Rhona yanked out her hair tie, studying my sweaty hair do as she quickly braided the thick length of her hair over her shoulder.

I shook out my braid and threw my tresses into a replica of her messy bun.

She sprayed the contents of her water bottle over her head. “You’re really sweaty.”

I snorted, stealing her towel to dab at my face and arms. I couldn’t recall my forearms sweating before, but there it was.

Rhona studied me. “Scowl a bit more.”

I bared my teeth, growling.

She rolled her eyes, and I took it back a few notches, curling my lip. Folding my arms, I cocked a hip.

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