Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
Then it’s our turn to try. Lisa goes first, her face set in concentration as she attempts to mirror Amara’s movements. It’s a little clumsy, but she executes the block successfully.
“Good,” Amara praises. “Remember to keep your weight centered and your arm firm.”
Lisa nods, blossoming beneath her praise. Jericho snorts, but by some miracle manages to keep himself from saying anything terrible.
I step up next, taking a deep breath to center myself. Amara nods at me to begin.
I move through the motions, muscle memory from Jericho’s training kicking in. The block is solid, my stance steady. Amara’s eyebrows raise slightly, a hint of surprise flickering across her face.
“Well done,” she says. “You’ve clearly been practicing. Next time, commit to the movement. You’re hesitant, and hesitation will get you killed.”
“I understand.” Pride surges through me as I glance toward Jericho, who watches me in continued silence. Maybe I’m not as far behind as I feared? Maybe I can hold my own here after all.
We continue like that for a while, Amara showing us new moves and critiquing our form. It’s challenging, sweat dripping down my back as I push myself harder, striving to perfect each technique. I have to repeat. them multiple times, and despite her initial reticence, Amara proves herself to be a dedicated teacher.
Lisa and I take turns facing off against each other, putting our new skills to the test. Lisa is a quick learner, her determination making up for any shortcomings. She gets me down more often than not, but I can tell a difference in our strength. Jericho has said nothing about itbut I can feel it now.
I’m stronger. This is beyond training, but something else. Like my enhanced healing, and how I woke up from a threeweek long coma no longer needing glasses to see.
By the time Amara calls for a break, my muscles are burning and my lungs heaving. But beneath the exhaustion is a sense of accomplishment.
There’s definite progress, and it’s exciting. Even Lisa, who’s usually dead after a long day of training, bounces with more energy than usual.
As I gulp down water, a prickle of awareness runs along my spine. Glancing up, I find several of the male shifters watching me with interest. It makes me want to squirm, their gazes a little too intense for comfort.
I look away, focusing on Lisa instead as she chatters excitedly about everything we’ve learned. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself smiling, the unease from earlier fading.
***
The first day was a fucking bait and switch.
Jericho leaves ús to Amara’s tutelage, and over the nout five dove wa’ra brutalizad and hanton to the mat
Lisa isn’t smiling anymore, and I no longer feel pride over my improvement.
If Amara ever looked at me with more than mild curiosity and distance, I would be certain she’s trying to bully me out of Westwood. Instead, she’s meticulous in explaining what she’s teaching me and what I’m doing wrong.
There’s nothing, technically, to complain about.
But there’s just something, a subtle energy among the shifters, in their eyes and the way they speak.
They are jealous, Selene opines, sounding distracted.
Are you watching your trashy TV show again?
Of course. I can sense her tail swishing despite our distance. It is very entertaining. Humans know how to tell a story, even if their accuracy is subpar.
“Focus!” Amara shouts, and I drag my head back to the situation at hand.
One of the other shifters, a younger male with a cocky swagger, is my opponent this morning. He’s one of the many who watch me from the sidelines, judging every move I make.
I’m lacking.
It makes sense, knowing they think of me as their alpha’s mate. Their future Luna.
Don’t worry about what they think. They are all beneath you. Selene’s natural arrogance is probably because of her Lycan soul; I don’t know how she cares so little about how other people think of me.
They are not our pack, she says, without me asking. How they think of you is inconsequential. If they have something to say, they can do it through a challenge. None of those pups is arrogant enough to challenge one who might become their future Luna.
Still.
It’s hard to let go of a lifetime of conditioning, where knowing how your pack feels on any given day could save you from a beatingif you run fast enough.
When you are strong enough, there is no need to run.
Simple words from a simple view. It must be nice to be a wolf.
It is, she agrees, sounding only halfinterested again.
A fist flving toward my face reminds me it isn’t the time or place to be focused on discussions with my wolf.
Giving up on any semblance of grace, I drop to the ground with a broad sweep of my leg, halting his advance. I can tell out of the corner of my eye that Amara’s unimpressed with the move.
I already know what she’s going to say. Too flashy.
The male shifter lunges at me again, undeterred. I block the first punch, but the second clips my jaw, snapping my head back. Pain explodes through my face. Shit, that hurts.
My knees buckle and my stomach twists, nausea sliding in as a vicious response to the pain. I stumble back, shaking my head to clear it, setting my jaw against the urge to vomit.
Breathe. You’ll be fine.
Selene’s unconcerned but kind advice helps me power through as I stumble, shaking my head to clear it.
He presses his advantage, crowding into my space with a flurry of hits. I backpedal, struggling to remember my training, to find my footing.
He gets me in the ribs twice and again in the face, but at least this time I don’t feel like I’m going to vomit from the pain.
Focus, Ava, Selene chides in my mind. You’re overthinking it. Let your instincts guide you.
Easier said than done. But I try to clear my head, to let my body take over. Slipping to the side, I evade a vicious right hook. Therean opening. It’s classic and obvious and it might be a trap, but I dart forward, inside his reach, and drive my elbow into his solar plexus.
He grunts, doubling over. Not letting up, I grab his arm and pivot, using his own momentum to flip him over my hip. He hits the mat hard, the breath knocked out of him.
For a second, I just stand there, stunned. Holy shit, did I actually just do that? A slow grin spreads across my face.
“Good!” Amara calls out. “That’s enough for now.”
We break apart, both of us panting and sweaty. I glance over at my opponent, expecting to see grudging respect or even surprise. Instead, fury contorts his face, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage.
A chill runs through me. Did I just make an enemy?
Anxiety claws at my throat; I know what it means to have a pack who detests me. Even with the guards Lucas has me under, I have no faith that I’m safe if I’m hated by everyone in Westwood.
I know what happens in the shadows.
Before I can smooth things over, the shifterI think his name might be Ben or somethingbows, his expression smoothing into polite neutrality. “Thank you for the match,” he says stiffly. Then he turns on his heel and stalks away, leaving me staring after him in confusion.
Did I imagine that look? I replay the moment in my head, trying to pinpoint what I saw. But with each passing second, I grow less certain. Maybe it was just the heat of the fight, the sting of being bested. Surely he doesn’t actually hate me for throwing him once… right?
You did well, Selene says, her voice warm with approval. Don’t let one surly pup shake your confidence.
Shaking off my worries, I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing in my jaw. It reaches deep into my car. My ribs ache every time I breathe, but I fill my lungs anyway, before consciously relaxing my body, one muscle group at a time.
Selene’s right. I can’t control how others react to me.
I’m here to train. If they want to hate me, there’s little I can do about that.
I just have to keep training. Improving. I’m going to get bruised, but eventually, I’ll be able to give back as much as I get.
Still, as I towel off and head for the showers, I can’t quite shake the unease prickling down my neck, making me shiver beneath the sweat cooling on my skin.
“Ava!” Lisa pops out of nowhere, which isas far as I’m concerneda specialty of hers. “I threw a girl called Anneliese today. She told me I’m not bad, for a human.”
Lisa’s enthusiastic arm collides with my tender ribs as she loops our limbs together in a familiar hug. Pain lances through my side, stealing my breath for a moment. I grit my teeth, waiting for the ache to subside.
“Oops, sorry!” Lisa’s eyes widen as she realizes her mistake. She quickly withdraws her arm from mine, looking sheepish. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I manage, straightening up with effort. The bruises throb in protest, but I ignore them. “How about you? Hanging in there?”
Lisa’s grin returns, undimmed. “I’m sore as hell, but it’s getting better. I think they went a little easier on me todayonly a couple new bruises to add to the collection.”
“Lucky you,” I mutter, only halfjoking. My whole body feels like one giant contusion.