Chapter 254
The next morning, my wolf wakes me up early, knowing that I need it. I mean, she doesn’t frequently function as my internal alarm clock – we both like our sleep way too much for that – but today she gives me a sleepy little nudge with her nose before climbing to her feet and giving her fur a rough shake.
I stifle a groan and take a deep breath, letting my eyes stay shut, wanting desperately to just… lean back in the warmth of Jackson’s body and sleep for just five more minutes…
But my wolf is more disciplined than me, and she gives me another nudge with her nose, and I sigh quietly, forcing my eyes open.
Then, moving as slowly as I can, I lift my head from Jackson’s chest and peer up at him. But he’s still breathing deeply, his eyes shut. Carefully, I lift my body just a centimeter and slowly move away, grimacing the whole time, desperate trying not to wake him.
But just as I’m about to slide completely off his chest and onto the bed, his arm tightens around me, pinning me to him.
“Why are you being so weird,” he grumbles, his voice thick with sleep.
I gasp a little and then scowl, letting myself fall back onto him. “I wanted you to stay asleep!”
“Why?” he asks in a whisper, opening one eye and looking down at me. “When you get up to go to the bathroom you just get up and bounce out of bed, making a racket. Why are you being so sneaky now?”
My scowl deepens, because I thought that I had been shady. But my mate smirks at me, letting me know that I was no such thing.
“Fine,” I sigh, resting my chin on his chest and looking up at him. “I wanted to get up early and go to the shooting range for practice.”
“What?” Jackson asks, blinking hard and shaking his head to wake up more.
“Nooo,” I moan quietly, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. “You stay asleep – you need it –“
He just smirks at me and nudges me down the bond, reminding me that because of his particular magical skill, sleep is largely optional. I just roll my eyes, because even if he can draw on his magic and his body mass for energy, he shouldn’t have to just for me.
“I need range practice every day,” I whisper. “Captain said so. And the only time I can do it is in the mornings before our run.”
“Damn,” Jackson says, his eyebrows going up. “Even more responsibilities? You are…loaded up this semester, Clark.”
“Don’t remind me,” I murmur, shaking my head. “But you go back to sleep, Jacks – just because I have to –“
“No way,” he says, sitting up and taking me with him so that I’m sitting in his lap, his arms supporting my lower back. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to do that!” I sigh, shaking my head. “No one’s even awake to hurt me –“
But he ends my protest with a quick kiss before lifting me bodily and setting me gently on my feet by the side of the bed. I grin over my shoulder at him.
“Go,” he murmurs, giving my lower back a little shove as he reaches for a pen and a piece of paper on my desk. “Brush your teeth and get dressed, I’ll write a note for the other two, who are going to freak out when they wake up and find you gone.”
I grin at my mate, secretly pleased at the idea of having him along, and grab my uniform from where I sneakily hid it last night before bed, tiptoeing away to the bathroom to get dressed for my day.
Fifteen minutes later, Jackson and I are walking in the pre-dawn light across the field behind the castle, my rifle slung over my shoulder. I stifle yawn after yawn as we walk and he smirks at me, already bright and awake.
“Oh shut up,” I sigh, bumping my shoulder into him, which of course does nothing. “Not all of us have magical coffee in our veins.”
“If I did,” he murmurs, looking forward to my blind, “I’d be at risk of you biting me like a vampire, drinking my blood for the energy kick.”
“Yes, baby,” I sigh, trudging forward. “You would.”
Together we make our way to the telephone-pole-like ladder and as I start to climb I laugh when Jackson dips down to put one firm hand beneath my ass, boosting me with little to no effort about eight feet in the air and cutting my climb down by about a quarter. I grin down at him, calling my thanks, and then do my best to scurry up the pole as fast as I can.
Jackson follows quickly – of course – and is already pulling himself up onto the platform before I’ve barely pulled the gun out of its bag. Jackson murmurs his admiration as I set up the gun and then he settles down with his back against the low rail, pulling a book out of his bag but not moving to open it.
“What,” I say, laying on my belly and turning to peer at him. “You’re just going to watch?”
“Watch my gorgeous mate shoot a state-of-the-arts sniper rifle at a target five hundred yards out?” His face bursts into a smile. “Hell yes I’m going to watch.”
I laugh, shaking my head at him as I turn back to the gun, concentrating. “Okay, just don’t interrupt.”
Jackson doesn’t say a word in response and I honestly forget he’s there, falling into a bit of a reverie as I go over the Captain’s instructions about how to take aim, how to concentrate, how to pay attention to the elements as well as my own breathing. Then, slowly, I exhale and begin to shoot.
The first few shots go wide, but I adjust every time. And then, after a few pulls of the trigger, I’m gratified by the sudden grey hole in the fabric of the target. I grin, incredibly pleased, and shoot until I count ten bullets.
Then I sit up, and take the scope off of the gun, using it to peer at the target.
Three hits – all erratic and nowhere near to the bull’s eye.
But still, three hits.
I can’t keep the smile off of my face.
“How’d you do?” Jackson asks, his voice a deep grumble in the morning light.
“I hit it,” I say, shrugging, trying to play off how pleased I am.
But he just laughs at me, because he can feel it down the bond. He raises his chin at the scope. “Can I look?”
“Be my guest,” I say, handing it over to him.
He whistles appreciatively and grins as he hands the scope back to me. “So what, we done here?”
The way he smirks at me lets me know that he knows my answer before I say it. “Oh, settle in, puppy,” I sigh, making him laugh loudly at the renewal of Seraphina’s nickname. “We’re gonna be here for a lot of rounds.”
Jackson stays completely silent as I practice, which I appreciate. I again sink into that concentrative zone, taking my time shooting rounds of ten shots and then sitting up each time to consider my progress, to make small adjustments that I hope will make me a better shot.
By the time about an hour has passed – getting us dangerously close to missing our run with Rafe and Jesse – I’ve shot at least two hundred bullets. And the target is satisfyingly riddled with holes, though they’re still scattered and far apart, none really coming close to the bull’s eye – except for one, which happened when I sneezed.
So. That doesn’t count.
I sigh as I sit up, stretching my arms over my head, still peering at the target which looks…so incredibly far away, now that I’m not looking at it through my scope.
“Nicely done, Clark,” Jackson says, snapping his book shut and holding his hand out for the scope.
I hand it to him even as I start to pack up the gun. “How do you know it’s nicely done?” I ask, smiling and pleased with my morning’s work. “You haven’t looked yet.”
“Because,” he murmurs, peering through the scope, “you did a good job concentrating and making adjustments. Honestly, Ariel, you’re a good soldier. I’d have you on my team any day.”
I grin at Jacks as he peers at my handiwork – guniwork? – and then gasp as I remember something the Captain said.
He immediately turns to me with a frown, concerned that’s something’s wrong, but I just lean forward and snatch the scope out of his hand. “Speaking of teams!” I say, kind of in disbelief that I forgot to bring this up last night – even if I did fall asleep over my chemistry book kind of moments after I finished eating my pasta. “What the hell are these Games the Captain mentioned!?”
Jackson’s face bursts into a grin. “Wait, Ariel - how do you not know what the Games are?”
