Mercenary's Choice

EIGHT - Sparring

Owen had seen it in Cyra's eyes. She was going to run. He doubted she'd make it far, and it would certainly be easy to track her by smell. Whatever scent concealer she had been wearing the previous day had worn off, and now he had her scent completely. It had enveloped him as soon as he entered the house. She smelled warm, like cloves and orange and something he couldn't place. He hated how easy it was for him to fall into the smell, he hated that he'd stayed even though he knew he should have run as soon as she entered the house.

    "We're ma—" Owen barely made it to the second word when she took off running. He sighed and sat on the bathroom floor a moment longer. What if I'm wrong? He thought for at least the tenth time. The next thought followed quickly. She knows it too, that's why she ran. I'm not wrong.

    With a heavy sigh, Owen got to his feet and walked down the stairs. In her haste, Cyra had left the door open. He could feel that she hadn't made it far and when he walked out the door he could see her kneeling at the treeline, clearly crying. Not knowing exactly how he was going to handle this, he watched her for a long moment before stepping outside.

    He was five steps from the door when the sky opened up and began to dump rain. He was already shirtless, but his pants were soaked to the skin in seconds. In front of him, Cyra lifted her head leaned back and let the rain stream onto her face. Is she laughing?

    Cyra was now grinning wildly as rain poured over her face and ran through her hair. Maybe she's actually crazy. He stopped, unsure if he should go any further. Would it just make her cry more to have him out there? Owen didn't know if Cyra understood how much he needed her. He hated that he felt that. It had always been himself that he'd relied on, never anyone else. The knot in his stomach when she'd ran away had made him angry at himself that he was suddenly depending on someone else.

    His choice to move was taken away when Cyra stood up and leveled him with a very even stare. Although her eyes were slightly puffy, he could tell that she was no longer crying. She now held a long branch in her hands, it had one smaller branch poking out of it, which she broke off with a loud snap. Despite himself, Owen winced. I'm an Alpha. I'm not scared of a fucking stick. She pointed the stick at him. Does she know she's challenging me?

    When she came at him, he didn't know what to expect. The first blow from her makeshift staff landed across his left elbow. The pain was surprisingly sharp. "What the fuck?" So she is challenging me.

    "Fight me." Cyra said. If we fight, I'm going to kill her. She walked slightly past him.

    "I'm not going to fight you." He turned his head to watch her.

    "That's what you think now." A part of him did want to fight her, to see what it was like. He wanted to see how she measured up. Is she strong enough? Every other woman that had thrown herself at him in an attempt to be an Alpha's mate had fallen short. No one seemed to have what it would take. Certainly none of them would have challenged him like this.

"I'm not—" He tried to convince himself.

"Defend yourself!" Her next blow hit him behind the knees. It was a solid hit and his knees buckled.

"Damn it, Cyra!" Owen swept his arm out towards her trying to grab the staff. Cyra laughed wildly and jumped away. They squared off. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." She promised.

When her next blow came, he was ready. He caught the stick and yanked her toward him. She let go almost instantly, causing him to stumble back one step. Clever. As he did this, she fell into a lower stance, and swept out her leg into his. The move caught him off guard and he fell on his ass. She's not using her swords.

She was on him in an instant, and the feeling of her warm body against his was distracting. Cyra didn't seem to suffer from the same issue. She threw her weight into him, knocking him fully to the ground. She must know she's at a disadvantage down here.

Owen grabbed her, locking his arms around her. Clearly, she'd anticipated this, because she'd already started to roll, and her back was to him. She threw her elbow into his solar plexus, and he wheezed as the air left his body.

The opening was enough for her to begin to scramble away. Owen's hand locked around her ankle and she tripped, falling back to the ground. In a flash, Owen was on top of her, his body weight pinning her to the ground. He grabbed her wrists and held them to her chest.

Cyra gave him a massive smile. "What are you doing?" He snarled.

"Losing."

"You don't seem upset about it."

"You're the Alpha of the Front Range Pack. I didn't think I actually had a chance." Around them rain continued to pour down, but Owen wasn't ready to move. He stared into her bright blue eyes, unable to look away. Heat ran up his arms from where he held her wrists.

"Are you going to let me say it this time?"