Chapter 11

Raven

“Pervert!”

Smacking Neil’s hand away, I grabbed the fur blanket off my bed and quickly covered myself, my cheeks flushing red at the intrusion.

Neil, however, seemed utterly unfazed. He turned on his heel and yanked the shutters open, allowing the first rays of dawn—along with a cold breeze that made me shiver—into the room.

“Goddess, the sun isn’t even up,” I hissed, nuzzling further into my blankets. “What do you want from me this early?”

“It’s past four in the morning,” Neil said with a bitter tone to his voice, as if I’d been sleeping in until noon. “You should have been training with us more than fifteen minutes ago.”

“Four?!” I squeaked. “Sorry, but there’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere except the airport at four in the morning. You can take your training and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

And with that, I flopped back down in bed and shoved my pillow over my face.

But Neil just growled and yanked the pillow away. “It’s non-negotiable.”

“Why?” I sat up and huffed at him, sending a tuft of unruly brown hair flying into my eyes. “The way Eric put it yesterday, women—or should I say, ‘females’—are only good for reproduction. So that means I shouldn’t have to train, right?”

Neil scoffed and shook his head. “This is not your country, petal. You clearly do not understand.”

“Enlighten me, then,” I said, really just looking for an excuse to stall for time.

Unfortunately, my tactic didn’t work; Neil was already rifling through my wardrobe and tossing various articles of clothing at me. I had to shield my face from the leather pants, tight-fitting white shirt, and boots he threw my way.

“Maybe in your country,” he said, “a woman being frail and delicate like a flower is considered ‘beautiful’. That’s not the case here. Women, even nobles, are expected to know how to fight.”

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Furthermore, no one would believe that a Lycan prince would be betrothed to someone with not an ounce of muscle on her body.”

I frowned, but grabbed the shirt and pulled it on over my head, using the blanket to cover myself. I sat up just in time for a pair of white panties to sail through the air and smack me in the face, causing my cheeks to flush. But I pulled those on, too.

“I already told your guards that I can’t put on weight,” I protested as I tugged the brown leather pants on—they were surprisingly comfortable, the leather soft and supple around my thighs. “I’m a model back home. I’m expected to—”

“Stay thin, I know,” Neil cut me off. “But you are going to be dealing with a lot of other Lycan noblewomen during your stay. And they are the most vicious of them all. As a prince’s betrothed, you might be a target; so unless you would like to have your throat slit in the night…”

His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish. I shuddered at the implication.

What sort of barbaric place is this?!

Still, I knew he was right. Maybe I didn’t have to gain weight, but if I wanted to survive long enough to get back to the Werewolf world, to my world, then I needed to know how to defend myself. I could go back to the way things were once I was safely home.

As I laced up my boots, Neil disappeared into the bathroom and returned a moment later with a small knife. He approached me, brandishing the knife.

“Hold out your hand.”

I immediately recoiled at the sight of the weapon in his hand. “You promised you wouldn’t—”

“Relax,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of me. “I am just cutting your nails.”

My eyes widened. Death was one thing, but cutting my nails? I’d worked so hard to grow them out and keep them thick and healthy without gel or acrylics. I’d rather he tried to stab me with that knife than cut me off.

“Uh-uh. I don’t think so,” I said, tucking my hands beneath my thighs. “You’re not taking my nails.”

Neil raised an eyebrow and reached for my wrist. “They’re impractical. They’ll get in the way while you’re training.”

“They won’t,” I insisted, jumping to my feet and scurrying away before he could touch me. “And I spent a lot of time growing them out to look this nice. They’re the one thing I’m not letting you take from me.”

Shaking his head, the prince growled lowly and stalked after me. “They need to go. They’re ridiculous and they make you stand out. Lycan women would never—”

“I don’t give a shit what Lycan women would and would not do!” I squealed, leaping out of the way again. “I’m not cutting them, and that’s final.”

“Damn frivolous Werewolves… Just cut them,” Neil insisted, still coming after me on those long legs of his. “They are just fingernails.”

“No!” I backed into the corner, having nowhere else to go, and bared what little of my fangs I could manage to extend. “I’ll do anything, but don’t take my nails!”

With a huff, Neil grabbed my wrist and held it up, bringing the knife close to my nails. I squirmed, but it was no use; he was too strong, yet again.

Maybe I did need to train so I could fight him off.

“No,” I whimpered miserably as I watched the knife move closer to my precious nails. “Please, don’t…”

I must have looked really pathetic, because Neil paused just as the knife touched the edge of my nail.

“Please,” I whispered. “I just want to keep this one part of myself.”

His blue eyes flicked up to mine, and I swore I saw his gaze… soften.

“You’ll do anything?” he asked. “To keep these ridiculous nails?”

I nodded vehemently. “Yes,” I affirmed. “Anything.”

The prince seemed to consider for a moment, fingers tightening around my wrist, knife still pressed against the side of my nail.

But then he curled his lip and released me, pocketing the knife.

“Very well. You’ll run twenty laps as punishment, then.”

…

My legs felt like they were made of lead as I dragged myself through my fifth lap. The cold morning air nipped at my exposed arms, the once-soft leather of my pants now chafing my thighs, the tall boots giving me blisters in all the worst spots imaginable.

Fifteen more laps of this, running around the athletic field behind the castle…

I might die, I thought, and the thought actually seemed kind of appealing. Aside from ballet as a kid, I’d never been a very athletic person. I could manage a weekly pilates class to keep my ass round for photoshoots but that was about it.

“Giving up already, weakling?” Eric called from the center of the field. I could hear his laughter from here.

It was too much—between my exhaustion and the running and the cruel words, it was just too much.

I’d had enough.

Finally, my legs collapsed from under me. I sprawled out on the dirt, not caring if the morning dew in the air made it cake to the side of my face or if my trainers kicked me for not obeying.

Sweet relief…

“Get up!” I heard Eric yell across the field. “What are you, a baby? I’ve seen toddlers run more than that! Get up!”

“No!” I called out, flipping him the bird from where I lay.

My eyes fluttered shut as I rolled onto my back, panting and sweating like a pig. I heard footsteps coming toward me—likely Eric coming to give me a swift kick in the ribs.

But instead, I heard Neil’s voice from above me.

“You’re going to give up just like that?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yup. And you can tell Eric that his constant yammering and name-calling didn’t help any.”

I heard the prince sigh from behind my closed eyes. “You’re just giving him satisfaction by lying here, you know. Is that what you want, petal? To prove that you are as pathetic as he says you are?”

Pathetic.

That word hit home all too well. It was what Nathan had called me that day, when I had kicked him and Dani out of my house.

“You’re pathetic, Raven,” he’d said from where he was loading his things into his car. “You’re pathetic if you think that this relationship was anything more than a transaction. And you’re pathetic if you think that you’ll ever have a relationship that won’t be.”

I didn’t like to think about those moments, when those words had struck me like a dagger in my heart.

When I had felt my wolf’s presence begin to fade for the first time.

“I’m not pathetic,” I whispered.

Neil bent down a little. “What? I can’t hear you.”

I swallowed hard, willing energy into my aching legs, and rolled over.

“I’m not pathetic.”

I planted my hands into the dirt and lifted myself even though my lungs felt like they were full of water—the same water I’d swallowed when I’d crashed into the ocean. But instead of letting that pain overcome me, instead of letting it drown me, I let it fuel me, fuel my wolf.

“I’m not… pathetic.”

And then, with one final heave, I climbed to my feet and began to run again.