I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward, a blur of motion. But every time I landed a blow, it felt like hitting solid stone. He didn't even flinch, parrying my strikes with effortless grace, his skin hot whenever we collided.
"You're overthinking," he murmured, his physical voice mixing with his mental one. "Stop trying to fight like a soldier. Fight like my mate. Let the wolf out, Rachel."
The command triggered something deep inside me. I stopped trying to be technical. My eyes shifting to that amber-gold hue as my wolf took the lead. I launched a series of strikes so fast the guards around the pit stopped their own drills to watch.
I managed to catch him off guard, a palm strike landing squarely against his chest—right over his heart—that actually forced him back half a step. The silence
