AVERY

We spent the rest of the day training and working out. After the ropes course, we ran, did sit-ups and push-ups, and hiked a long trail in the woods. My body ached by the time Wyatt called it quits in the early evening.

The only ones who didn't seem fazed by the physical exertion were Chris, Charlotte, and Zaden, which wasn't surprising. Vamps and wolves gave supernatural its meaning.

"You all did well today," Wyatt said as we stood around him on one of the large training fields. The sun had begun its western descent, the temp finally cooling. "Tomorrow we'll continue training, much as we did today. Expect to be sore and tired every morning when you wake up. Know that I won't go easy on you. This is why you're here, and physical fitness is expected from all of you."

I made my shoulders stay back and kept my head high even though all I wanted to do was crumble to the ground and go to sleep. Fire burned in my muscles, and my legs felt about to collapse.

Wyatt's attention shifted to me. "I know this isn't easy for a lot of you, but you've made me proud." He placed his hands behind his back. "Now, grab some dinner and enjoy the evening. We reconvene at 0630 tomorrow morning in front of the women's barracks."

Everybody started heading toward the cafeteria, but Wyatt stepped in front of me before I could join them. Scents of oak and pine, his natural woodsy fragrance, wafted toward me. My head spun. I hadn't scented that in eight years, and it brought back a firework of emotions.

Despite reminding myself to act professional, my stomach dipped. It didn't help that I had to arch my neck back to make eye contact. My gaze crawled up his chiseled chest, strong jaw, and aquiline nose.

But his face remained expressionless. "Private Meyers, I noticed that your hands are bleeding."

I curled my fingers into my palms, embarrassed that I was the only one that hadn't properly figured out how to slide down the ropes without hurting myself. "It's okay, sir. It'll heal."

"You should head to the healing center. The witches can help with that."

"Oh, of course, sir. I'll go there now." I bit my lip, trying to remember which building and door would lead me to the healing center.

His lips quirked up. "Do you know where it is?" I shook my head.

"I'll take you. Follow me."

The rest of my squad mates were already a fair distance away, but Charlotte looked over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow in my direction. I firmly ignored her. The last thing I needed was her making a sly comment about Wyatt and me again. A comment that my commander would undoubtedly hear.

Wyatt led me in the opposite direction of my squad. I hurried behind him, not sure if I should stay following or walk at his side, but he slowed his pace and inched over until we strode alongside one another.

Around us, other SF members walked on the various pathways in the early evening sunshine. Some marched in groups, others practiced shooting in the distant fields, and some just sat on benches chatting with one another. It was easy to forget that this facility wasn't just for training. Hundreds of SF members also called this place home since they lived permanently in the barracks.

"You did well today." Wyatt's chin dipped my way. "I know it wasn't easy for you."

I grimaced in humiliation because even walking at the moment hurt like a bitch, never mind how I would feel tomorrow. "Thank you, sir, but I think we both know that I'm the slowest and weakest in the group. If the Institute and SF didn't have a training agreement, I wouldn't be here. I never would have qualified."

He shrugged. "Maybe not, but you didn't give up today. That's admirable."

I laughed softly. "To be honest, giving up was tempting."

A crack of a smile parted his lips. "Was it the rope burn that made you think twice?"

I studied my palms again. Dried blood caked the cracks. "No. I won't lie, the rope was a bit painful, but it wasn't the ropes course that made me cringe. I think it was the running. In general, I don't really run. Well, not unless it's away from something, like my neighbor at my flat back in London. That woman could talk to you all day about the lotto tickets she'd purchased and how each one was going to be the big one. It was amazing how she could spend twenty minutes telling you how accurate her predictions were, only to lose and return to the corner shop the next day to purchase more tickets. I always wished her the best for winning, but when she cornered me it was hard to find an escape, so I generally ran the other way when I saw her coming, but that's probably the extent of my running experience."

Wyatt gave a choked laugh but then smoothed his expression. "So, no gambling either for you then?"

"No." My lips curved up, and despite knowing better, I felt myself slipping back in time, feeling and acting like I had in high school. "I've been a poor college student for the past few years. I prefer to keep my meager savings in my pocket . . . sir." Damn, it was so weird to call him sir and not Wyatt.

"So, you're saying to motivate you, I should begin discussing the SF's weekly gambling pot about who's going to return from an assignment with the most scars?"

My eyes widened. "The SF has that?"

His lips tugged up, his eyes sparkling. "No, but if it helps to motivate you, I'm fine with spinning a few tales."

I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me before I could stop it.

Another smile graced his lips just as a fellow commanding officer passed us on the sidewalk. "Major Jamison," he said, nodding his head in greeting.

The smile on Wyatt's face disappeared. "Major Carlisle."

I sobered when I remembered we weren't alone, and we weren't back in high school. We were at the SF. And he was my commander.

I garnered Wyatt felt the same since a veil descended over his features, his sparkling eyes dimming.

We walked a bit farther but then curiosity got the better of me. "Sir, gambling and running aside, has there ever been an ambassador recruit who didn't pass training?"

"A few."

I nearly tripped on the sidewalk. Righting myself, I stopped to face him since the healing center waited ahead with its glowing green medical sign hanging above the door.

"So there's still a good chance that I won't pass training?"

His eyes softened. "Given how hard you worked today, I don't think that's likely."

"But will I be able to do it tomorrow?" My muscles were already killing me. A sense of sudden doom came over me. Yes, I'd worked hard today, but could I keep it up? Could I do this day in and day out?

I didn't know.

And if I couldn't, I wouldn't be allowed to begin my ambassador position at the Institute. My heart withered.

All I'd dreamed about during my years at university was becoming an ambassador, but training at the SF was mandatory for acceptance into the Supernatural Ambassador Institute. I'd already finished the other requirement—my degree in paranormal politics—but without passing SF training, that degree would be useless.

Wyatt placed his hands on his hips, his expression fierce. In the early evening sun, his brown hair glinted with chestnut streaks, and his deep-set grassy-colored eyes were so vibrant that for a moment, I completely forgot what I was stressing about.

"I know that you're worried, Avery, but remember that a lot of what we ask of you, what I'll be asking of you, is mental." He relaxed his stance, and a slight twinkle lit his eyes again. "And while physically, yes, it can hurt—as you may have experienced with running today—you need to remember that our bodies can withstand so much more than what we ask of them. Every time it hurts, every time you want to give up, remember why you're here. Use that to focus, and it will help you push through the pain to persevere."

I nodded and let his words sink in. "So focus on my goal and remember that it's all mental."

"Exactly. The first few weeks are the hardest. Get through those, and you'll make it."

I took a deep breath, my anxiety subsiding. "Okay. I think I can do that."