Beasthood (The Hidden Blood Series) (34 page)

             
Jaz sprang back, moving just in time before Fraya landed on her but not enough to escape a blow. Fraya caught Jaz across the chest. She choked out the air from her lungs and instinctively bent forward only to be cracked in the jaw with a small iron fist. The force knocked her back against the floor.

             
She managed to thrust herself back onto her feet in a crouched position before Fraya jumped at her again. Jaz ducked just in time, forcing Fraya to dive over her. Jaz grabbed her hovering ankle and pulled her down.

             
Fraya belly-flopped onto the hard floor with a sickening splat. She craned her head round to meet Jaz's face, her body still flat on the ground. Her eyes screamed 'Murder'.

             
Jaz jumped up trying to get away.

             
Fraya flipped herself over, landing elegantly on her feet and pounced on Jaz. Her hands found Jaz's bare throat and she squeezed, hard and merciless.

             
Jaz, pinned on her back, croaked and squirmed underneath her attacker, clawing helplessly at Fraya's arms, trying to reach her face.

             
Fraya was smaller than her and leaner, but Jaz was heavier. She had an advantage. It was the first time she considered her heaviness an advantage. Using it, she snarled in Fraya's face and bit down on the flesh of the arm closest to her, crunching down so hard she tasted blood.

             
Fraya screeched, onlookers gasped, some even let out a shocked laugh, whilst she frantically tried to tug away.

             
But Jaz refused to let go.

             
Fraya panicked from the unbearable pain and punched Jaz square in the face, sending stars shooting across her vision. Her swinging arm put Fraya off balance as she straddled Jaz.

             
Jaz was quick to react, and even though she felt so dizzy she wanted to puke, she  used that moment to violently roll herself taking a startled Fraya with her.

             
Fraya was now underneath her, her eyes wide.

             
Instincts told Jaz to stay clamped down on her arm, and her teeth dug in deeper.

             
Fraya cried out; for the first time she sounded absolutely horrified, not just in pain. She finally surrendered, releasing her weakened grip on Jaz's throat. Jaz responded by unclenching her teeth from her bloody arm and rolling back on her knees, spitting out Fraya's blood onto the floor. Fraya immediately kicked away from her, clutching her seeping wound.

             
Jaz could have caused more damage. Ripped tendons and flesh as she released her biting grip. But she didn't. It was to show she still had her self-dignity. That she didn't fight for the fun of it. A point directed right at Fraya and anyone else who thought otherwise, including herself. Fraya knew it, as Jaz gave her a meaningful glare.

             
Fraya's lip curled up in a snarl. She jumped up; undiluted hate consuming her face as she chiseled Jaz with her charcoal eyes.

             
Jaz got up slowly, in a strange daze, wiping Fraya's blood from her lips and the blood from her nose in one deliberate motion. It spread across her face, painting half of it red.

             
Fraya stared at Jaz in bewilderment.

             
Jaz then quickly saw the burning fire igniting beneath her opponent's stunned expression and in a low voice she warned, “Don't do it, Fraya.”

             
Fraya didn't listen.

             
She jumped forward again, her uninjured arm poised ready to attack.

             
Everything Carr had told Jaz, all the confidence he had tried to bring out in her, expanded in her brain like a star exploding. Just before Fraya's fist met her face, Jaz beat her to it, uppercutting Fraya straight in the jaw. The bone made a disgusting cracking sound against her knuckles. She winced at the pain it sent through her hand.

             
Fraya's eyes stared at her, then glazed over as she lost consciousness. She fell back and almost hit the ground before being caught by Carr. He looked up at Jaz with conflicted eyes.

             
She felt a confusing tingling sensation in her gut.

             
Carr was proud of her and therefore himself, but something else about him made her suddenly feel guilty. Or maybe it was her own conscience. Either way it stopped her from celebrating. 

             
The audience in the gym had on a mixture of pleased, stunned, shocked and a few annoyed faces. The latter were those who had clearly been rooting for Fraya.

             
Jaz didn't care.

             
Fraya wasn't unconscious for long. Carr knelt by her as she sat up -not allowing him to help her- and her eyes met Jaz's. Fraya looked at her for a moment as if admiring something from a distance. Then her jaw set in a stubborn line, which only made her flinch in pain.

             
Jaz was amazed to find she'd fractured her jaw.

             
Carr led her out -Fraya didn't look at Jaz anymore after that- and when Jaz thought she had a moment to collapse on the floor regardless of who was watching, Nik was in front of her. It took all her leg power to hold herself up. Now the adrenaline was depleting, she was beginning to feel all the pains in her body.

             
He gazed at her thoughtfully.

             
A strange expression for someone who'd just witnessed a fight. Especially Jaz's fight with the scariest woman in the Pack.

             
He continued to watch her, to a point where she thought he wasn't going to say anything, until he finally opened his mouth. “Come with me,” he said in a low, gentle voice.  She was sure she detected amusement as he said it.

              People were still watching, though others had gone back to their workout. Nik scanned the room locking onto those who were still staring and bellowed, “Alright people, show's over! I want to see you sweating blood by the time I get back!”

             
Jaz eyed him at those words then turned her gaze hastily back to the floor.

             
He led her to the office off the gym and shut the door behind him. He closed the blinds and turned to face Jaz, but she was too busy avoiding him, looking around the room instead.

             
The floor was grey slate, the walls a dull cream. The furniture was sparse and worn but oddly charming. There was a rectangular, varnished desk to the right, the length of it facing the left wall by the door. There was a bookcase behind the oak desk stuffed to the brim with countless books, niknaks, photographs. The photographs interested her the most.

             
The first one she focused on was of two boys, one of them she suspected was Driver's 'charming' younger brother Swain. The other dark-eyed boy could only have been Driver though he looked much different. His hair was long. Black and slightly waved, flicking out at the sides.

             
They looked about twelve and nine years old, though she wasn't sure what the real age gap was. She still didn't know Driver's true age, but she guessed about late twenties. When he frowned, he looked deceptively older. In the rare few times she'd seen him almost smiling, she had realized he was much younger than she'd initially thought. 

             
Another was of the two of them with a striking man, in his late thirties. He was handsome and looked a lot like Swain with his light brown hair and warm almond eyes. He had a fierce jaw and a thin-lined lip removing the boyish good looks
that set Swain apart from him.

“
Your father?” she cocked her chin towards the photo. She saw Driver bob his head in her peripheral vision; she was still nervous to look him in the eye. From his silence she guessed it was a touchy subject so didn't say anymore.

             
She scanned over the other pictures of gym members, some she recognized, others she didn't.

             
There was a picture of Maria with Driver. She was at least ten years younger and looked much happier. Her beauty was apparent in this photo. Maybe if she didn't look so stern and unapproachable most of the time she might still be considered beautiful by everyone she met. It took a really good look at her to see it for yourself.

             
Jaz suspected this photo was taken before her late husband had died. She remembered Maria mentioning him. Vern was his name, she recalled.

             
It must have been such a hard experience to change her appearance so dramatically. She was still beautiful, but worn with grief and broken, always plastering on a cold, stern exterior to hide the cracks.

             
The photo was overwhelmingly poignant.

             
She smiled as she studied it, but it was a sad smile. Driver saw it and regarded her curiously, glancing at the picture she was focused on. Before he thought to ask her -knowing she'd probably avoid the question anyway- she turned her head to the left to look forward at the wall facing them.

             
There were four paintings, each of beautifully captured wolves in a moonlit horizon, surrounded by forests and mountains. They all posed proudly; powerful and stunning. And a little arrogant, Jaz thought.

             
The fourth painting, on the right side closest to the desk was her favourite. She gazed at it much longer than the other three.

             
It was of one wolf, white as snow, standing daintily by a still lake, giving the whole painting a distinctively feminine appearance. The moonlight reflected across the water, and the white wolf was gazing into it, as if unsure of its reflection. The posture of the wolf was uncertain, cautious yet amusingly curious. She connected with this painting because she saw herself standing there. It was unnerving and strangely comforting.

             
She was so absorbed in the yellow eyes of the white wolf she was startled by the close proximity of Driver's voice. “She's beautiful isn't she?” Jaz glanced at Driver's face, not quite meeting his eyes before looking back at the painting. She nodded. “My sister painted all of these before she left the  Pack a few years ago.”

             
Jaz regarded him clearly for the first time since they'd entered the office.“I never knew you had a sister.”

             
He smiled lightly. “Yes. She's just over a year older than me but acts like she was born a hundred years ago.”

             
Jaz smiled and then stopped herself. She was going to crack a joke but something held her back. Driver studied her face.

“
She's very talented,” she observed.

“
She is. She's the creative one, Swain's the pretty one, I'm the nasty one.”

             
Jaz grinned, forcing her top lip back over her bloody teeth. “I don't believe that.” Driver looked her way swiftly. “Swain's not
that
pretty,” she added with a smirk.

             
He stared at her for a long second, she stared back and then they both started to laugh at the same time. 

             
Driver then frowned, scrutinizing her. “You do know you've got blood all over your face?”

             
az held up her hands and saw the blood had smeared across the back of them. She touched her nose and winced at the stinging pain it produced. Her nose was throbbing and only now she seemed to realize it. “Ow...” She closed her eyes, covering her nose with her hands.

             
Driver lightly gripped her arm and led her to the office chair. His office chair. Not the wooden leather-cushioned smaller chair facing it.  She didn't know why but this tiny detail pleasantly surprised her.

             
After he'd checked to make sure nothing was broken, he brought a first aid kit and a mirror. Jaz cleaned up her face and put plasters on a small cut on the bridge of her nose. Her jaw was bruised and it hurt to move it. She had a headache. The back of her head and spine were also sore and probably bruised but she didn't make a point of it in case he wanted to check. It would have felt too personal and she wanted to distance herself from him as much as she could right now.

             
Apart from that, a few minor knocks and bruises here and there and a foul taste in her mouth, she was surprised she'd come through it as well as she had. She was still mentally numb from the shock.

             
Driver had been sat on the black, leather sofa bed in the far corner facing the door, reading -or pretending to read, she wasn't sure- a thick hardback novel whilst she was cleaning herself up. She tried to peer at the title but it was concealed beneath his enormous, manly hand with the big, silver engraved ring she knew so well.