With weres, a battle could be waged on multiple fronts.
To get away from Adam's gaze, Paul threw another roundhouse with his left foot, but he was too far away to connect effectively.
Stupid waste of energy, I thought, but at least the move let him break eye contact without actually losing the contest.
He was using his legs more than his arms, and I wondered if he had hurt his hands in the fight with Mary Jo.
If so, it wasn't enough to matter.
Paul used the momentum from the wasted kick to spin sharply and drive his right heel in a savage back kick aimed at Adam's stomach.
He might be a jerk, but Paul knew how to move, and he was blazingly fast.
Adam again managed to block the kick, but the block only muted the force.
Adam let the kick fold him over and throw him back across the mat, springing back with it.
Paul came in right behind, arms rising to the high-block position he'd used on Mary Jo.
Adam regained his balance just as Paul closed with him, and spun on his left foot and drove his right leg in a side kick.
There was the crisp pop of fabric snapping as his leg flashed out to full extension, but it missed Paul by a handspan or more.
Paul's hands clenched, and both fists came down in an instant replay of the attack he'd used on Mary Jo.
Adam was bent at the waist, failed kick still extended, his back exposed to Paul's descending fists.
And then he did one of those kung-fu movie moves, spinning horizontally.
I wasn't the only one who gasped.
The kick hadn't missed; it was the start of something beautiful and dangerous.
Adam's left leg hit Paul's shoulder with such force that Paul's blow went wide, flailing at empty space, as he spun in midair before crashing to the mats.
Paul hit like a pine tree falling, and the sound of his arm breaking was loud enough for everyone to hear.
Adam landed on his stomach, one leg trapped under Paul's body, which was perpendicular to Adam's.
Unlike Paul, Adam's landing was deliberate and controlled.
Before Paul could react, Adam twisted his body and drove the shin of his free leg into Paul's chest.
In karate movies, they break celery to mimic the sound of breaking bones.
Trust me, my hearing is acute, and I know these things: Paul's ribs didn't sound anything like celery.
A human might have died from that blow; he certainly would have needed CPR.
Werewolves are tougher than that.
Paul's hand slammed the mat.
"He yields," said Adam.
"Adam wins," announced Darryl.
"Do you accept Paul's yield, Alpha?" "I do," replied Adam.