Witch Born - LJ Swallow Page 0,14
for the fourth time, I watch open-mouthed. I thought our powers were muted here?
Nobody else runs at his speed. He takes massive strides, aided by the length of his legs, and his physical bulk has no effect on him either. Ethan runs with the ease of the leanest Olympic sprinter.
The guy is a machine.
Sucking in air, I watch my feet and keep running.
“Times up!” yells Roger.
I pull myself out of concentrating one foot in front of the other, and the pain in my lungs, to look around. Some leave the tarmac square, hands in pockets and chatting as they finish their morning’s torture and I swipe rain from my forehead. Five more?
“Eloise, Suzette, Rona, Tyler, Dorian. Five more.”
Dorian? He was ahead of me but slowed to a walk, and now ambles past Roger with a mock salute.
Zeke watches from the side-lines. “Bad luck, dude. Feeling a little weak today? No witch energy to help you?” Zeke points at a girl I’ve seen Dorian with once.
“Fuck you, Zeke,” he calls back.
Zeke flips him the middle finger and strides from the exercise area, one arm slung around a girl with long brown hair, his fingers centimetres away from her breasts straining against the too-tight white shirt.
The witch who Zeke indicated catches up with Dorian. She's slender with the right amount of curves to stop her looking skinny, and her long black hair is tied back from her face. She's also chosen to wear a top tighter than most girls here, distracting the guys around her.
“What happened, Dorian?” She looks at him from under her lashes, pouting her full lips in concern.
“I felt like a walk in the beautiful weather, Lara.”
“You're not too weak today?” asks the skinny guy with her, as they keep pace with his walking.
Dorian halts at the guy’s words. “What the fuck did you say, Andy?”
“Uh. I mean. Dude. Sorry, not weak. I mean are you too tired? Busy night?”
Dorian looms over Andy. “Watch your mouth or I’ll show you how not weak I am.”
“He’s distracted, that’s all,” says Lara, and she glances my way.
I duck my head.
Five more laps will kill me.
“Wait over there for me to finish,” Dorian snaps and jabs a finger at the space beneath the eaves.
“Man. It’s cold,” Andy complains.
“Should’ve kept your damn mouth shut. Wait for me or I’ll tell a certain shifter about you and that Beth chick. Zeke doesn’t like filthy hands on his property.”
Lara gives a harsh laugh. “She’s everybody’s property.”
I break into a run again, in case the trio drags me into their conversation.
Dorian's demands to his friends continue. “Wait. The. Fuck. Over. There.”
“Hurry up, Dorian,” says Lara in a sweet voice. “We’re missing our extra 'us' time before class.”
“Not interested, Lara. I'm done with you now.”
Wow. Subtle. I speed up. Or attempt to.
Puddles splash as Lara and the guy walk away. I’m unsurprised when Dorian appears at my side again. “Are you struggling, witch?”
“I’m okay. Thanks.” But he laughs at my laboured breathing and breathless words.
“Damn, you're slow.” He effortlessly keeps pace with me as I continue in silence.
“What are you doing?” I ask him as we reach the second extra lap.
“Running?” he suggests.
“I don’t want to run with you.” My chest burns as if someone has punched a hole in my lungs, and my protesting legs are about to go on strike.
But I refuse to show weakness to this guy, who still hasn’t broken a sweat. “Did you know that if you miss the timer for ten laps, that you come back here later?”
I finally halt, something I wanted to do laps ago. “Here later for what?”
“More exercise. Angus likes us to understand that failure isn’t an option.”
“That’s dumb,” I pant. “Why train us to be fitter?”
He snorts. “Like we’re going to revolt and leave? No, he wants us exhausted and pushes us to our physical edge to keep us subdued.”
I rest against the chain fence, which bends behind at my weight. I don’t want to talk to this guy; I want to rip his beautiful face off.
I slide my hands down my legs and heave in deep breaths as I lean forward. There’s no point. I won’t make ten laps. Instead, I’ll be back later to discover what the ‘extra’ physical endurance task is.
“Chin up, witch. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Piss off, freak.”
He moves my hair from where it hangs into my eyes and across my burning cheeks. I slap his hands away as he leans closer and his face comes into view.
“You poor thing. You have a