Delicate

Chapter 3

Damon's P.O.V

I watch carefully at the many pairs of pack members fighting in the large open field. Surveying their movements from afar as skilled warriors walked around them, inserting little pieces of advice which seemed to help a bit.

But even with the help, they were still shit.

A smile tugs at my lips when I catch Josey throw someone easily three times her size over her shoulder and onto the ground. She teases them aimlessly before offering them a hand and pulling them up, then they start again. 

I keep observing at my spot beneath a large oak tree, catching the mistakes that the warriors didn't, making a mental note to tell someone to deal with it later. I could not necessarily go and tell them myself, they'd back away, some even run. I didn't even train with my pack anymore, I'd sent too many of my own to the healing centers and in my dad's own words, 'didn't know when to stop' and 'had a minimal level of self-control'. 

It wasn't my fault they were all weak.

So I just had to watch from afar and take mental notes. It wasn't all that bad since some of the pairings were a bit mismatched and that made for great entertainment. My favorite ones to watch were the pairings which involved a witch or warlock and a wolf. It was usually a little bloody, rawer as people diverted to their natural instincts.

Over the years, many of their kind had trickled into the pack and we'd learn to accept them, despite the way our genetics detested it. But it'd given us more than a step up when facing our enemies, it changed the game entirely.

I was the one who suggested that we let them join the training sessions, it was a good way to let each species release the natural tension formed with one another's presence and I was right. The pack relations had quelled a shitton ever since and the hatred lingering between the two groups faded significantly. I personally never mind them much, after all, I grew up with the best of their lot as an aunt and one of my closest friends was one. 

As if hearing his name, Mekhi approaches me after finishing his own little sprawl. His shirt drenched in sweat and clinging to his skin, claw marks slashing through it at various parts. The blood beneath was easy to see, yet Mekhi was smiling while drinking his water as if he'd just won the fucking lottery.

"You did good out there," I admit as he slumps down beside me.

"You don't have to do that alpha nice shit with me, practice on someone else." He says dismissively and I release a small breath of relief.

I'd say Mekhi was probably the only person I knew who didn't mind the way I was. That's why we got along. He was the exact same in his own rights, a killer to his kind but he didn't care. Mehki joined our pack after I ran across him in the woods, I was enjoying chasing a rogue and crashed into him when he was chasing an incubus. After we'd both killed our prey, we kind of just started talking and then just went out separate ways. Until we ran into one another again and again and again, all during one of our hunts. So after many conversations, he told me that he didn't have a home and no coven, so I invited him to the pack. It was dumb in hindsight, he could've been lying but I didn't get that vibe from him so I went with my gut and my gut was right.

"Your brother looks like he's in hell," Mehki says after a moment pointing across at Peter. 

He was right. Peter was shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down his face while dad tried to encourage him to try a little harder. It was the first time Peter was training in years and it was all because of what happened last week Thursday.

Dad basically lost his shit when we got home and saw Peter's condition. After fawning over him for countless hours, he decided that it was time that Peter went back to training. Peter begged and cried for him to change his mind but he didn't and for once, I didn't fight him on it.