It was glorious. It was terrifying. It was sheer madness. 

My mother would have had a heart attack where she stood if she’d stayed to watch this. I was now almost glad my parents had been chased away. Almost. 

I’d watched the Twilight movies a shocking amount of times. I’d read my fair share of werewolf novels. But none of it -absolutely no amount of so-called preparation- had prepared me for the real deal. 

A freaking werewolf fight. 

It was surreal just thinking about it, let alone watching it unfold right before my eyes. Every part of my body shook with something between anticipation and dread. My heart thumped a staccato rhythm against my ribcage. No doubt my face had paled with horror. 

I quickly glanced around me to see if anyone was having a similar reaction, forgetting for a moment that I was in the company of a pack of werewolves. 

I was shocked to see the thrill and breathless anticipation in all their eyes. Some of them were even amused, as if this was just a normal ‘spat’ between friends. Their eyes were bright and golden in the night like a hundred glowing fireflies.

I shuddered at the sight.  

My eyes returned to the wolves. 

They were primal power, raw and unapologetic. Xander towered over the other werewolf, a black beast with eyes that glowed like flint, his razor fangs and sharp claws deadly weapons. The other werewolf was chestnut with white stripes going down his side, and while he was bigger than any normal wolf, he was smaller in size compared to Xander.  

A low growl emitted from Xander’s chest, and my own chest rumbled with it. There was fury crackling in his eyes, like lightning. 

The chestnut werewolf made a small whining noise, and his ears flattened against his skull. It looked like he was submitting at first, but then he became visibly aggressive. He bared his teeth at Xander in challenge. 

I thought Xander would leap then, but he began circling the chestnut wolf instead. 

The chestnut wolf kept his eyes on Xander, watching him warily. 

Were they… having a telepathic conversation? It looked that way to me. For some reason, I got the feeling Xander was chastising the other wolf. 

“Fight him! Teach him some manners, Xander!” Someone from the crowd yelled.

“Yeah, give us a show!” Another egged on.

The crowd cheered. 

They were enjoying this, seemingly not the least bit concerned! 

Among the circle of onlookers, I spotted the Supreme Alpha watching the fight. His face was a cool mask of impassivity. I thought he looked like the unaffected referee in a match, presiding over a fight. And then I understood they did this regularly, this show of muscle and sinew and primal strength. They celebrated it like the territorial animals they partly were.

The growling sounds coming from the two wolves escalated, grating on my ears. 

The crowd sensed that the fight was about to begin before I did. The cheering quieted down. 

The chestnut wolf made the first move. He pounced, claws bared. 

I inhaled a sharp, icy intake of breath, and held the breath.

Like water, Xander moved with impossible fluidity and merely stepped out of the way just the necessary amount of steps to dodge the attack. The chestnut wolf landed on his paws and skidded; the ground was wet from snow. He marked the earth with his braking paws as he did, large gashes in the soil that would leave hunters puzzled and unnerved. 

Xander did not seize this moment of distraction to attack. He merely turned to face his opponent. I watched the muscles working beneath his silken midnight fur as he moved, steel covered with velvet. 

Growling, the chestnut wolf finally regained control of his movements and whirled around to face Xander. 

He attacked again, and again Xander dodged. It continued like this to the amusement of the crowd. Xaner was making a mockery of the chestnut wolf. 

It became abundantly clear to me that, aside from a difference in size, there was also a gap of power between Xander and the chestnut wolf. Even though Xander had yet to take a jab or even swipe at his opponent, something told me that he was stronger. There was strength in holding back, I supposed.

Someone near me laughed and said, “He’s playing with him.”

“That’s what he gets for flirting with the Alpha’s Mate. What an imbecile.” 

“He’s never gonna learn.” 

I almost started hyperventilating. Breathing became a struggle. My hands fisted and I practically shook -well, more than I already was shaking. 

This was a territorial fight, I realized. And I was the territory they were fighting over. Xander was defending his territory -me- from a werewolf who’d dared to lay a hand on it. Like I was some piece of property. 

While it probably sounded romantic to Twilight fans, I wasn’t the least bit impressed or flattered. As a matter of fact, it pissed me off more than anything that had happened to me this damned night. A red haze descended over my eyes. 

I seethed. 

Stop this at once. 

Xander’s head snapped to me. 

Now. 

Piercing golden eyes regarded me coolly. Any other instant I’d be quaking where I stood once the wolf laid eyes on me, but not this time. This time I was too angry to think about that. 

I hoped he was reading my thoughts as he was so inclined to do, and could sense my infinite disdain and fury at what he’d just tried to pull.

I would not be owned. I would not submit. Deal or no deal. 

His ears twitched. 

And then the telltale signs of shifting echoed across the clearing. 

He’d shifted back. I was surprised; I didn’t really think he would. 

The crowd murmured its confusion.

“What’s going on?” 

“Why has he shifted back?” 

“Is he going to take on Jackson in human form? Now that will be a show.” 

“Meriam is going to regret not coming.” 

The fight had ended too soon for the crowd’s liking; the victor had yet to be decided. Even the chestnut wolf -Jackson- looked on in confusion, but he made no move to attack. 

I held Xander’s gaze once he was human, letting my facial expression reveal my displeasure. I was affronted that they’d fight over me like I was a piece of steak. 

Xander didn’t say a thing. He didn’t even look sorry. 

I would have gone over to smack the both of them over the head if I wasn’t still inwardly terrified of them. I’d already slapped Jackson once; I doubted he’d tolerate another insult. 

If it weren’t for Xander, what would Jackson have done to me? The thought alone was enough to make my stomach somersault and my skin crawl. If Xander hadn’t intervened when he did...  

I whirled around and went to the tree I’d been taking shelter under until Monica dragged me off to dance. No more dancing for me.