Page 26 of Forged Alliances
The old lake he’d swum in as a kid glittered ahead, and Dax slowed. A couple of cars parked in the gravel spots that had been carved out long before his time. The wind carried a foreign scent, the damp musk of the bear shifter making Dax’s fangs protrude on instinct. A low, guttural growl ripped from his throat. If he glanced to the mirror, his eyes would be glowing as his beast emerged.
The old tree stumps and folding chairs they used during meetings had been pulled out to the sidelines while the beaten earth of the fighting circle remained pristine and clear. Already the five Tribe members he’d met the other day took their seats, right at the edge of the circle. A man he’d seen twice before paced in front of them, bulging arms crossed. The slope of Dorlan’s ebony eyes and the thick, even darker hair falling down his back in waves hinted at Cherokee heritage, and the man brimmed with more aggression than Dax remembered.
He pulled his truck to a quick halt and sucked in a deep breath. Calm and cool—patience would win him this fight, not rushing in half-assed and raging. And no mistake about it, he had to win.
Sun spilled through the trees, causing the lake to glow. The sight was a reminder of easier days with him and Drew when the only fights between them revolved around who could stay underwater longer. Dax rolled his shoulders back, pushing himself to stay loose and relaxed as he strode toward the Tribe.
He didn’t need to look to his left when tires crunched gravel as someone else pulled in. The moment she arrived, his body stood at attention like a tuning fork, honed to her. Even as Sierra slammed the door to her car and jogged up behind him, her presence caused a prickle along his skin, an awareness he couldn’t deny due to the bond between them.
“Is this the guy I’m supposed to be fighting?” Dax called out, his hands in his pockets as he strolled up to the Tribe. “When you said bear alpha, I was impressed—expecting some big, brawny thing—but instead, this beanpole shows up.” He flashed his teeth with his smile, knowing in this case he poked the bear.
Dorlan growled, a deep guttural bellow threatening to rip through the place.
Dax winked at him. “Save it for the match, hot stuff.” If looks could kill, he’d be dead at this point. Beyond all else, he excelled at pissing people off. What most didn’t realize was that in keeping his temper, he had the advantage. Besides, serious types were all too fun to torture. He’d delighted in pressing Sierra’s buttons from the moment they’d met.
“I’ve never seen Dorlan that irritated. You truly have a gift for annoyance,” Sierra murmured as she stepped beside him. Dax delivered a half bow with a flourish of his arm. She reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Better hone all those skills into kicking his ass. You still owe me a favor that’s going to be tough to uphold if you’re not alpha of the Silver Springs pack.” The words were casual, as was the touch, but the scorching way she looked at him was anything but.
“Your wish is my command,” he said with a salute as Navi stepped away from the rest of the Tribe. The short woman cut the fiercest presence out of the Tribe members, like bringing a flamethrower to a shooting range.
“Enough with the pleasantries,” Navi cut them off. “You’re not here to flirt; you’re here to fight, Williams.” The sun caused her skin to glow, enhancing the contrast between the thick black lines of the tattoos marking her entire body.
He shrugged, trying not to let nerves overtake him. “Can’t help if I’m talented at both.” Navi crooked a brow at him, even though she fought with a twitch at her mouth threatening to turn into a smile.
“Come on, lion-boy,” Dorlan muttered, making his way to the center of the thirty-foot circle. “Let’s see if you can back up all your big talk.”
Despite the worry marching a consistent beat in the back of his brain, Dax sucked in the sweet breath of the moisture-laden summer air and flexed his arms, relishing the way the sun’s heat caressed his skin. The animalistic side of him welcomed this, the urge to mark his territory growing stronger with every step.
Dorlan faced him on the other side of the ring, his silence palpable.
Dax never liked ceremony, and too much seriousness grated on his nerves, but he’d have to be beyond stupid to mouth off too much in front of the Tribe. Even though he stood a chance against the big ole alpha from Underwood, every member of the Tribe, from pint-size Navi to big-beater Lucas, could thrash his ass into next Sunday. So he rolled his shoulders instead and faced his opponent, sizing up the asshole from Underwood who figured he could take a bite out of him.
“Shifted or human form?” Dax asked, glancing to the Tribe members who sat in their lawn chairs as if they were holding fucking court. Though in their case, they pretty much were. The size and strength of your beast reflected the individual, but with the way Dorlan’s eyes burned, this serious bastard planned on throwing all his weight into this match. Seeing him in action would tip off if he had reflexes to back up the brawn.
“Territory is the animal’s right,” Lucas said, his voice booming across the terrain. “So this challenge will be in your shifted forms.” He regarded both of them with his palms out and hands spread wide. At the announcement, Dax kicked off his loose pants and tossed his shirt out of the way while Dorlan followed suit.
“Dorlan Tully of the Underwood pack and Dax Williams of the Silver Springs pack, you are to face one another in combat over the terrain of the Silver Spring shifters. The first one who doesn’t rise, loses. The winner will advance to face the next contestant.” Lucas’s gaze sharpened as he regarded them.
Dax’s muscles tensed, waiting for the impending signal.
“Ready?” his voice boomed, the air thickening. Cars pulled up in the interim; closing doors and crunching gravel echoed over to where Dax stood. More folks approached the clearing by the minute, but the noise and the people had all become peripheral for Dax. Right here, right now, he focused on Dorlan while waiting for Lucas Diaz to say the word. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he flexed his fingers.
“Fight,” Lucas shouted in a roar, his voice quaking the surrounding air.
At the sound of Lucas’s voice, Dax shifted.
His mountain lion surged to the surface, the transition happening as fast as falling water. His fangs emerged, claws pricked out, and the fur coated his skin as his bones began to meld in different directions. Within the span of a second, he no longer stood on two feet, but rather crouched on all four.
Ahead of him, Dorlan shifted into a hulking black bear, the fur ink-stain dark, and those eyes shrewd. The air around them turned as tense as a thundercloud as they began to circle the clearing. Shifters from the Red Rocks, Silver Springs, and Dorlan’s pack surrounded them on all sides, watching the match—most had a stake in the outcome. As the mountain lion, he could feel his people on the peripheral, presences who’d become his family over the years. And of course, he felt her there in attendance, her appearance bolstering his confidence.
Dorlan’s back paw kicked off. The motion snapped Dax’s focus to the forefront, but his muscles bristled at attention. The bear barreled for him, lumbering with the force of a falling tree trunk. Dax swerved back and forth in a radius of a couple of feet, not giving the bear a direct target to focus on. Even though Dorlan rushed for him like a juggernaut, Dax didn’t duck out of the way. Not yet.
He kept weaving, back and forth, back and forth as Dorlan thundered toward him, closer and closer. Dax’s heart hammered in his chest as his paws pounded a rhythm on the beaten earth.
Dorlan launched forward, feet away from him.
At the last second, Dax leaped to the right—out of the way. Dorlan skidded to a halt in the spot Dax had just been, kicking up dirt and pebbles in the process. Speed was of the essence. Seizing the seconds granted, he whipped around and sank his claws into Dorlan’s flank. The black bear growled, a thunder that quaked the earth around them, but before he could turn around the entire way, Dax disappeared from the spot, slinking away.
As he’d thought. Slow reflexes.