Blooded Mate

Chapter 51 - Borrowed Fist

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Ethan groaned as the banging at his door pierced through his sleep-addled mind. But he did move from where he had burrowed himself in the soft, cloud-like sheets.

"Son, if you aren't out in the next five minutes, I'll make sure you don't see your mate for another month."

Ethan's eyes flew open, and he tossed the covers off.

He knew Zyga would make good on his threat if he failed to comply. Last night the older wolf had shown him exactly why he was known as the best tracker on the east coast. He had thwarted all of Ethan's attempts to go be with Jan.

Each time Ethan had stepped anywhere near the exits on their floor, Zyga would appear out of thin air with a task that needed to be done a day ago. Finally, out of ideas, Ethan had slid his window open, gauging how feasible it was to scale up the side to the vampire's room, only for a dry voice to interrupt his thoughts.

"It's a long drop to the grass if you miss a step, son. You won't die, but it'll definitely hurt."

Zyga's head had popped out through the open glass panes some suites down, while Jeb leaned out next to him, chuckling.

Biting his tongue to hold back a snarky retort, Ethan had retreated to his room. He had only intended to wait for an hour or two till he was sure Zyga had gone to bed. But, alas, he had fallen for his own trap when sleep had claimed him.

Grumbling about over-protective fathers, he shuffled over to the white marble bathroom. After splashing water on his face, he put on a pair of sweatpants and sneakers, grabbed his hoodie, and stepped out of his suite.

A ticked-off Zyga stood outside in workout gear, tapping his foot impatiently. Without another word, he led the way to the elevators and then down to the ground floor. But instead of heading out to the forest like Ethan expected, the tracker walked him down the hallway to a gym where Jeb waited for them.

The treadmills, stationary bikes, and other equipment had been moved to one side of the room, creating a large open space.

"C'mon, shoes off," Jeb ordered, motioning him over. "Let's start with hand-to-hand combat, but I want you to work on listening to your wolf and controlling your transformation. Time it to when it's the most advantageous."

Fifteen minutes into his morning workout, Ethan was flat on his back sporting a bloody nose and busted lip from Jeb's fist.

Jeb held out a hand to help him up. "You need to think ahead, Ethan. Be more proactive instead of reactive."

Ethan nodded, wiping his nose.

"And I'm still not seeing fur, son." Zyga griped from the side.

Ethan groaned, rubbing the spot where his elbow hit the floor during his last ungracious tumble. "I'll happily turn if you tell me how. I have nothing to go on. I don't even know where to start."

Jeb circled him, bringing his fists up. "No one can teach you that. You are your wolf, and your wolf is you. Call him out. It's like walking. I can't teach your brain how to tell your leg to move. We can only create the circumstances for your body to react, and you pick up the clues. Listen to what your body is telling you."

"Well, that doesn't help much. The only thing my body is telling me now is that it hurts-"

Before he finished talking, Jeb lunged at him, and Ethan had to step back to avoid the charge. But the vanguard warrior literally disappeared in a whirl of movement right in front of Ethan and reappeared as a pair of glowing yellow eyes on the left. Again, Ethan ducked on instinct, barely missing the incoming punch.