Fated By Starlight by Krista Street
Chapter 24
~ AVERY ~
Holy shit, she’s really going to make me do this. Major Fieldstone wished me good luck before he exited the training room. That left me with Major Armund and Reese on the sidelines, while Wyatt prowled the perimeter.
Reese’s anxiety pulsed toward me, but this was just training, right? My commander wouldn’t actually hurt me. Right?
Oh please, let that be right!
“No going easy on her, Wyatt.” Major Armund’s dark eyes flashed his way, her meaning clear.
I gulped. Okaaaay. Maybe he would hurt me.
Wyatt’s nostrils flared before he stepped onto the mat. Energy undulated from him, hitting me again and again. Already, I was having a hard time standing upright, and the man hadn’t even done anything yet. How the hell was I supposed to battle a supernatural like him?
I’m dead if this ever happens in real life.
And I knew I would be. While my training was proving more useful than I’d ever dreamed of, I also knew my limits. If a rogue alpha werewolf ever set his sights on me, I was a goner—end of story.
“When you’re ready.” Major Armund crossed her arms.
I took a deep breath. Seriously, the woman was a bit of a sadist. I knew she had my best interests at heart, but two full-blooded, uber-powerful supernaturals in one morning?
That was just mean.
I bent my knees, not knowing what to expect from Wyatt, as his alpha power continued to barrel into me. I gritted my teeth and whispered my spell under my breath. Surprisingly, he didn’t pounce.
“Jamison . . .” Armund said in a warning tone.
My spell hit him, making him go rigid.
I turned to sprint toward the door, but I hadn’t even gone two feet before he landed on the ground right in front of me, catapulting over my head as if he were hopping a crack on the sidewalk.
My eyes bulged. He’d moved that fast in his human form and had broken through my spell in milliseconds.
I backpedaled, but it was no use. Wyatt wrapped his arms around me and hauled me to his chest. He spun me around, and my back was pressed against his hard abs as his arms locked around my waist.
Ignoring the quiver that began in my stomach, I immediately started to kick, going for the arch of his foot and kneecap, but he shifted his weight, deflecting my blows each time as if he were coddling a toddler having a tantrum.
I tried every defensive maneuver Major Armund had taught me to break out of his hold, but each time I tried something new, Wyatt seemed to anticipate it, effectively halting my efforts.
No wonder the fucker was a high-ranking SF member. He knew every move in the book.
“Dammit,” I muttered, and finally gave up. My chest heaved, and my muscles were screaming in agony at the never-ending onslaught of torture from this morning’s training session. “You can let me go. I can’t break your hold.”
Without a word, Wyatt released me. The feel of him vanished, and damn me for missing it. I laughed humorlessly to myself. My trainer may be a sadist, but evidently I was a masochist, because Wyatt had treated me like garbage, yet I still wanted him touching me.
Seriously, Avery. That’s just sad.
Anger scorched through me that I was still attracted to him after his soul-lashing rejection, but I squashed it down as far as it would go, and when I faced him again, my expression was carefully blank.
Energy strummed from him as we stared at each other, his eyes like emerald sparks, until Major Armund’s command jolted me out of my immobility.
“Again!”
Wyatt growled. “You said one time, and she lost!”
I flinched. Was it really so horrible to spar with me that he couldn’t stand doing it? But I immediately stitched up the hole that tore into my heart. I would not let him affect me.
Thankfully, Wyatt didn’t seem to notice my momentary relapse in feelings. His attention was focused on my trainer who either didn’t care or chose to ignore Wyatt’s reluctance.
She took an assertive step forward. “I said again. I’ll decide when we’re done for the morning. Avery needs this, and it’s helping me too. It lets me see where her weaknesses are so I’ll be able to train her better. I don’t have much time left. She needs this, Wyatt, and so do I.”
Well shit. I grumbled. How do you argue with that?
I eyed my commander, wondering if he would even try to.
With a snarl, Wyatt stalked back to the other side of the mat.
Apparently not.
I took a deep breath and tried not to let humiliation flood me. My commander obviously didn’t want to be here, but Major Armund was right. I did need this, but surely Wyatt wasn’t the only alpha werewolf in the SF.
“Maybe there’s another werewolf I could spar against, ma’am?” I offered. “If Major Jamison would prefer not to?”
Wyatt spun around. “What? No.”
“But you seem—”
“I said no!”
I jolted at his harsh tone, my embarrassment turning to confusion, and then to anger again. He seemed grumpy that he’d been roped into this, yet when I offered an alternative he refused.
Fucking typical. Act one way but say something else. Why did I ever think he was a noble person to be admired?
Grumbling beneath my breath, I retreated to my side of the mat. “Fine. Whatever.”
“What was that, Private Meyers?” Major Armund asked.
I forced a tight smile. “Nothing.”
“And Jamison, what about you?”
He just tipped his chin higher.
Major Armund scowled at us, letting us know that she didn’t approve of our attitudes.
I checked myself, even though it was hard. I was letting Wyatt get under my skin again, and hadn’t I learned better? And what would the Institute think of their newest member not being able to control herself around a werewolf? They wouldn’t approve.
Remember your ambassador training, Avery.
Smoothing my expression and suppressing my emotions, I dipped my head respectfully. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”
Her scowl lessened. “Thank you. Now, again. This time, try the maneuver we practiced last week. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I figured she was being purposefully vague so my commander couldn’t anticipate that move.
“Major Jamison?” she said.
Wyatt glared at her before turning his attention back to me. Strong energy still pulsed from him in never-ending waves. Annoyance at his dominance flared in me, but I forced myself to let it go.
The Institute was right about one thing. Training at the SF definitely had its merits. Because if I could survive three months with Wyatt Jamison and not kill him, surely I could survive anything the Institute threw at me.
Gritting my teeth, I held my ground and whispered my spell again, but I wasn’t even halfway through it before he was standing in front of me and knocking me to the ground.
I shrieked and windmilled my arms—my mind and body blanking at his unseen attack—but before I could land flat on my back, Wyatt was breaking my fall and lowering me to the mat.
My breath rushed out of me, surprise stealing my voice. One second I’d been standing, casting a spell, and the next I was flat on my floor with my commander hovering over me.
The only positive aspect of my predicament was that his body wasn’t directly touching mine. He maintained the plank position, so all of his weight fell onto his forearms and the balls of his feet, yet his scent still flooded me, and only inches separated us.
I stared up at him, my heart suddenly beating two hundred times a minute. Moss-green irises stared back at me, their bottomless depths pulling me in like a siren’s call ensnaring an unsuspecting sailor at sea.
Why? Why did my body betray me like this? Why did I still find him attractive even though he’d made it clear we would never be anything?
His nostrils flared. Something flickered in his eyes, then his face tightened and he sprang up, the air rustling around me from his abrupt movement.
“She’s not ready for this,” he growled. Anger radiated in his tone as he addressed Major Armund and Reese. “I was on top of her before she’d said two words of her spell.”
“I know.” Reese let out a heavy sigh. “Her spells work when she uses them, but against someone such as . . .” He gestured toward Wyatt. “She doesn’t have many defenses.”
“What she needs is a bodyguard twenty-four seven if the Institute’s going to put her life in danger,” Wyatt snapped.
My jaw dropped, and I scrambled to my feet. “A bodyguard? Are you kidding me? No ambassador travels with a bodyguard, even if they have low magic. That’s not going to happen.”
Wyatt rounded on me. “So, then what? You walk into a new position, in unstable territory, only to be put in jeopardy? Are you telling me that’s okay?”
“Well, no, but the chances of me ever being in that situation are very small. Most positions are in territories that are peaceful, and yes, I know there’s a chance I’ll be assigned to an area of the world that’s experiencing unrest, but that’s what words are for, sir.”
“Words?” Wyatt huffed. “Do you really think a discussion is going to stop a rogue werewolf or an ancient vampire? They won’t listen. What you need is either a bodyguard or better magic, because this isn’t cutting it!”
His chest heaved as anger strummed from him in powerful waves, but instead of arguing further, I took a step back.
I tried not to let his stinging accusations hurt me, but he was right.
I was weak.
Even though I’d been training my butt off, I would never be strong. And the truth was, no matter how hard I worked, I would never stand a chance against someone like him.
I forced my chin up, hoping he wouldn’t see the pain needling my heart. “You’re right, sir. I’m not strong. I never have been, but this is how I was made. I can’t change it, and ambassadors don’t get bodyguards. The Institute doesn’t have funding for that, so what I have when I leave here is all I’ll have to fall back on. I’m sorry that disappoints you.”
To my utter mortification, tears welled in my eyes. Blinking rapidly, I turned to Major Armund. “If it’s all right with you, ma’am, I would like to break for lunch now.”
She gave a brisk nod, then turned her glare back on my commander.
I hurried from the room as quickly as I could without making it look like I was running away, but that was exactly what I was doing.
Because even though I was trying so hard to keep my emotions in check and not let Wyatt affect me—it hurt. It hurt so damned much that Wyatt pointed out my shortcomings time and time again.
The bottom line?
I would never be good enough for him.