Eli
I hate sparring.
Or more accurately, I hate getting my ass handed to me in front of half the pack while Jace shouts 'helpful' advice like, 'Use your agility!' and 'Come on, Eli, you're not dead yet!'"
Hazel just slammed me into the dirt hard enough to make me see stars, and I’m ninety percent sure there’s a bruise blooming across my ribs in the shape of her elbow.
I almost don’t mind, because she didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t treat me like I was fragile or off-limits just because I’m the Alpha’s pet project. It makes for a refreshing change.
Or maybe she just hates me. Who could blame her? At least my glowering mate is out of sight.
I push myself upright, dirt clinging to my skin, lungs heaving. Jace offers a hand and I glare at it. "Don’t say something motivational
