Alpha Gray by C.J. Primer
CHAPTER THIRTY
Fallon
It may have gotten off to a rough start, but now I swear I’m having the best goddamn week of my life. Yesterday’s little rendezvous with Gray was by far the hottest sexual experience I’ve ever had, even if it was interrupted before we could seal the deal. Now I know for sure that this thing isn’t over between us, despite what he said before. Yesterday proved that he wants me every bit as badly as I want him, and when I want something, I fucking go for it. No, this definitely isn’t over, and I’m eagerly awaiting the next time we’re alone. Having an alpha punch my v-card will be a pretty epic way to lose it.
I was riding the high of my little tryst with Gray when I entered the arena to face off against Brennan yesterday, and my wolf absolutely destroyed his. The alphas didn’t even have to deliberate- I was the clear winner, which means I’ve moved on to the next stage of the tournament. They threw in another wildcard to account for the odd number again, so there are six of us left. The top four will advance and fight again today, followed by the main event; the top two. I’m so close to victory that I can taste it.
The six of us left in the tournament are Davis, Judd, Shay, Maxwell, Carter, and me. Davis will take on Shay, Judd is going up against Maxwell, and I’ll be facing Carter. I should probably be more nervous, but my confidence is through the roof right now. I hope I can ride this wave straight to the win.
Davis and Shay are first up, and the crowd of recruits is roaring by the time they shift and take their positions on either side of the arena. I’ve always admired how beautiful Davis’ white wolf is. He stands proudly in his position, waiting for the signal to begin. In contrast, Shay’s wolf is jet black, already poised to spring into action.
Brock gives the announcement for the matchup to start and the crowd goes wild when the two of them collide in the center of the arena. What Shay lacks in size against Davis she more than makes up for in skill, snapping at his throat and taking him down. He’s strong, though- he throws her off of him, springing back up onto his paws and getting the jump on her as she’s still struggling to her feet. Davis plows into her, sending her flying across the arena.
Her body lands with a thud and the crowd hushes, waiting to see if she’ll get up. She does, and we all start whooping and cheering again as she whips around, baring her teeth. The two of them circle one another and I hold my breath, waiting to see who will strike first. It’s Davis, but Shay turns and kicks out her back legs right as he’s about to jump on her, sending him careening into the dirt. He lands hard, sliding to a stop before he scrambles up, shaking out his fur.
As I watch the showdown between Davis and Shay, I start to wonder who I’m really rooting for. Of course I want my friend to win, but I don’t want to go up against Davis in the semi-finals. Then again, with how skilled Shay is, I’d be a little apprehensive to face her, too.
When you’re in the arena, eight minutes flies by. However, when you’re in the bleachers, it seems to drag on for an eternity. I wince every time Shay lands a blow on Davis, flinch every time one of them hits the dirt. When time is called, I honestly don’t know who won- they were both fierce; there’s no clear winner. The wildcard for next round will likely be drawn from this matchup.
The alphas group up across the arena to discuss while Shay and Davis shift back and dress. After a few minutes, Gray strides to the center of the arena to announce the victor. My heart flutters as I watch him, his toned muscles rippling beneath his t-shirt as he walks. I’m practically drooling, picturing him completely naked…
Gray gestures for Davis and Shay to come toward him, and they do, standing on either side. Both of them are sporting visible cuts and scrapes from their fight and look itchy with anticipation for a winner to be announced.
Gray lifts his gorgeous, muscular arms, then points to Davis. The crowd erupts again and Davis just grins, basking in his victory.
I don’t have much time to celebrate Davis’ win, though, because I’m up next. I climb down from the bleachers, heading to the east side of the arena. I dart a glance at Gray as I pass him, and when I reach the end of the arena, I take my time undressing, knowing that while everyone else is politely looking away, he’s likely watching.
Eat your heart out, Gray.
I call my wolf forward, feeling the familiar tingle on my skin as the air shimmers around me and my body rearranges itself, shifting. Then I’m on four paws, stretching and circling to face Carter’s wolf on the other side of the arena. He’s silver, like the rogue was, and I let that notion fuel me, thinking of how that rogue attacked me and how I want retribution.
In reality, I’ll never get my own revenge on the rogue- he fought back when the squad tracked him down and tried to bring him in for questioning, and they had to eliminate the threat. He’s long gone, but my memories from that night are still with me, fueling my fight today.
Brock calls for the fight to start and I sink to my haunches, waiting for Carter to make the first move. I know my biggest advantage is my speed, and if I can play keep-away, tire him out, I’ll be able to take him down easily.
He falls for the bait, charging toward me. I wait until the last second to dart out of the way, sending him skidding across the dirt. He doesn’t lose his balance, though, and I circle around, putting some distance between us as I wait for his next advance. He comes at me again, full speed, and I manage to dodge his blow, ducking and rolling to the side right before he can land.
My plan works like a charm. With each failed attempt to take me down, Carter gets more angry, coming at me harder, faster. When he’s riled up, he doesn’t think to conserve his energy or try a different tactic. I can tell he’s wearing himself out when he’s panting heavily and he starts to get sluggish, and I take advantage of my window of opportunity. When he lunges at me again, I don’t avoid him, but instead brace for impact, teeth at the ready. I sink them into the scruff of his neck, holding on, while careful not to draw any blood.
My move catches him off guard. Carter’s wolf wines, but instead of trying to throw me off, he drops, rolling. It’s a maneuver I didn’t expect or plan for, and as I release my hold on Carter’s neck, I taste dirt as I hit the ground. He’s on his back on top of me, writhing and trying to stand.
I hear a snap and I’m suddenly blinded by pain. It takes me a second to even realize where it’s coming from- my back leg. In his struggle to get up, Carter’s big clumsy ass stepped on my leg. It must’ve been in a weird position and he must’ve put all of his weight on it, because as I roll over and try to stand, it becomes apparent that it’s broken.
Crap.
The pain is white-hot, radiating from my back right leg up to my flank. I nearly cry out as I get to my feet, allowing my other three paws to support my weight as I hold my injured leg off of the ground. This was not the plan. Carter backs up, circling me, looking to me to see if I’ll call the fight. I’ll be damned if I’m going to go out like this.
I lower my head, baring my teeth to signal to Carter that I’m not giving up; I’m not finished with him. I can’t leap at him to attack given the condition of my back leg, but I’ll fight him off with everything I have.
He circles me a few times and I can see the hesitance in his eyes. He’s just as competitive as I am, though- there’s no way he’s going to forfeit. Carter lunges at me, and from the moment he makes contact, I fight. I fight through the pain, through the nagging inevitability that I won’t be moving on in the tournament. Every time Carter bumps my leg, the pain is dizzying. Still, I press on. I don’t give up; I give it my all.
By the time Brock calls for the matchup to end I’ve gotten several good blows in, but I know it’s not enough. Even if I had been able to win somehow, my injury is too significant to continue fighting in the next round. It’s hopeless, but at least I tried.
I limp back over to the east side of the arena, shifting and pulling on my shorts with great difficulty. I shrug my tank-top on over my head, and only then do I look down at my right leg to survey the damage. My shin is a mottled blue and purple and the front of it is protruding forward. Something in there is definitely broken.
I glance up to see Gray, Jax, and Brock heading in my direction. They all look concerned and I wince as I try to put weight down on my foot to turn toward them.
Gray slides a hand behind my back, helping to hold me up as Jax crouches down beside my leg to examine my injury. Gray’s touch immediately calms me, soothes me- but when Jax touches my leg, I almost howl in pain, tears stinging my eyes. I bite my lip, forcing them back as I throw an arm over Gray’s shoulder for support and balance on one leg.
“You okay?” Gray murmurs in my ear.
I bite my lip harder and just nod. It’s sweet that he asked, but he and I both know I’m not okay.
Jax rises to his feet, drawing a breath. “It’s broken, we’ll have to set it.”
Damn. The memory of having my wrist set last week floods back to me and I cringe as I recall how setting the bone hurt worse than the actual break.
Brock sighs, tucking his long Jason-Momoa hair behind his ear and leaning in. “Look, you’re not going to be able to fight again today…” he mutters. “We’re gonna have to declare Carter the winner.”
I blow out a breath. The longer I’m standing here, the more my adrenaline is wearing off and the worse pain I feel radiating up from my leg. “I know. I figured.”
Gray starts tracing circles on my back with his fingers, like he’s trying to console me. As shitty as this situation is, I appreciate the gesture and revel in the delightful little sparks his fingertips leave behind.
“It’s a shame it had to end this way,” Brock says, glancing down at my leg, then back up to my face. “Even with a broken leg, you never gave up. That’s a sign of a true warrior.”
His compliment takes me by surprise, but I bask in his praise. Brock’s never really seemed like my biggest fan, so it means even more coming from him.
“Fucking legend,” Jax agrees, beaming. “Now let’s get you off to the infirmary, eh?”
Jax steps toward me, but Gray pulls me closer to his side protectively.
“I’ve got her.” He ducks out from under my arm and stoops down, sliding one arm behind my knees and the other behind my back so he can pick me up. As he lifts me like a bride, my legs swing and I almost cry out in pain, wincing and biting my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. I look up at Gray’s handsome face and he’s just staring at me, his eyes clouded with concern.
“I’m fine,” I breathe, looping my arms around his neck. The warmth of his body against mine soothes me, tapers off the pain.
Gray starts to walk, carrying me, each of his movements careful and precise so he doesn’t jostle my injured leg.
“I’ll be back. Go ahead and start the next matchup,” Gray calls over his shoulder.
I lean my head into his chest and just let him carry me. As badly as my leg hurts and as disappointed as I am to be out of the tournament, Gray taking care of me like this is a decent consolation prize.
