Raw Honey | Lesbian Werewolf Romance | FemxStud | DISCONTINUED

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐂

I wiped the blood off my nose. Treyvon wiped my forehead as he spoke. "Why do you wanna even fight if you're going to lose each time?"

I pushed his hand away from me and leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look at my nose. Shit, it's broken. "Told you before, I just like the thrill of it. Ain't gotta fight to win."

Despite me pushing his hand away, he still wipes sweat from my forehead. "Crazy ass."

Fighting for me has always been a form of expression. When I was younger, I would always get in trouble with mama and Pops for starting fights with my pack mates. They always told me I needed other ways to express myself so they did what any parent would do, which was stick my ass in art but it ain't stick. When I became a teenager and found out about underground street fighting, I dove into this gritty world of blood, sweat, broken bones, and losing teeth. My first time fighting against someone, I landed them in the hospital.

That's when I quickly realized how different wolves were from humans when it came to strength. While we wolves are much more powerful in wolf form and in our human form, we still rely on our wolf instinct most of the time when we are in our human form. When I fight now, I have to reduce my strength. Humans are fragile as fuck. Just a roundhouse kick from me would kill them.

Wolves are also much more adapted to a life of predation and competition than humans. In other words, we are better equipped to take part in physical confrontations. As a result, even when a werewolf takes on a human form, they still possess an immense amount of strength and power. This puts us at an advantage in physical confrontations.

These fights were seen as a way to measure strength and courage. It was a way to show that you could stand your ground and not be easily beaten. It was a matter of honor and respect among peers to be brave and willing to fight and demonstrate strength. Even though I was losing on purpose, I still felt a sense of pride in being seen as brave and shit. So right now my chest hums with pride while I bleed from my broken nose.

Treyvon left to get me a bottle of water. I adjusted my broken nose. It was going to heal in a couple of hours anyway, and I didn't need my shit to be crooked when it does heal. 

"You did well tonight." The female voice belongs to some white chick named Rebecca who I fought against. She leaned against the table edge, unwrapping the boxing tape from her knuckles. "Proud of you, kid."

"Yeah, thanks," I said. But I knew the bitch wasn't proud of me. I could practically smell the cockiness coming off her. She threw her boxing tape in the trash across from me. Rebecca broke my nose and bruised my ribs.

Part of losing on purpose is acting like it doesn't really hurt my pride as an Alpha and Imani's too.

"Really stood your ground against me tonight kid. Most people would have tossed in the flag," she said. I watched her reflection in the mirror as she undid her sandy brown hair. It stopped at her waist. Sweat dampened her hair. Rebecca probably had blood specks in her hair from all the fights she fought.

I look over at her, and she smiles. One of her front teeth was missing, but the woman pulled off having just one missing front tooth.

"Yeah, most people," I said.

"And you aren't nothin' like'em," she said. "I remember watchin' you for your first fight, kid. I thought, damn, this kid really is talented. I got to go up against her. But after that fight, you started losing all your other fights and I never understood why. So tonight I thought maybe, just maybe, you would give a good fight. But you didn't. Disappointed, yes, surprised no. You got to get back to the old you."