Page 59 of Come for Me
“Everyone? Even the pups?”
“Especially the pups. Dax believes the younger they start, the better. He says they’re the most vulnerable if we fail to protect them.”
That last sentence hits me hard. Pups mean future generations, making them easy targets. They’re also used as bait in wars with enemies. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of innocent pups in the hands of the evil lurking outside our borders.
Afterward, despite Dax’s best efforts, the pups never tired out. They protested when it was time to move on to the teenagers. I was surprised to observe Dax’s teachings were primarily focused on defense techniques, given he was such a renowned predator. I would’ve thought he would them to become little assassins.
A male with shoulder-length brown hair who can’t be any older than sixteen appears.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, Tom,” Dax says to the boy.
Tom looks nervous, with his fists up, but relaxes when Dax circles him. Dax bounces around like a boxer, which makes Tom smile. Dax eggs Tom on, reminding him what he’s worked on and to take it when he sees an opening. When the youth lunges for a swing, Dax ducks out of the way, while the boy’s smile fades, and he apologizes. Which puzzles me because what he’s apologizing for isnotpunching the king in the face.
“Don’t apologize for making an effort,” Dax says as he throws a blow.
Tom’s quick, though, and darts out of the path. Unfortunately, Tom moves so quickly another female his age doesn’t have time to get out of his way and falls on her ass.
“S-Sorry,” Tom says to the girl who scrunches up her nose at him. He reaches out to help her up, but she rejects it and storms off. Tom looks around, clearly anxious about what people might think of him, the awkward guy who just knocked down the pretty female.
“It’s fine, Tom.”
Tom’s eyes water, but he blinks the tears away. He stands in front of Dax in a fighting stance with his feet staggered but forgets to protect his face.
“Hands up, Tom, hands up!”
“Sorry.”
Dax growls and swings punches left and right, but Tom leans his head back out of the way of Dax’s fists. Dax keeps on him until he backs him into a tree.
“Stop apologizing for existing.” Dax lodges his claw into the tree bark beside Tom’s head, then leans into his face, snarling. “And start making people sorry for standing in your way.”
Tom nods and stands straighter.
Dax smiles and pats his shoulder.
Tom’s confidence bodes well for him through their roughhousing.
Dax spews words of encouragement at the outcome when he listens, laughing and smiling with the kid.
Tom still has a lot to learn, but he has the chance to be great if he stops second-guessing himself. Dax must see the same potential in him as the reason he spends the most time working with him. Tom’s training regime is more mental than physical. His lack of confidence, the constant apologizing... To stay safe, he must be used to making himself smaller so he’s not a target. Tom wants what most teenagers his age want: to be accepted, tobe loved, and to fit in. He looks to exist without conflict, but it’s clear the world hasn’t always let him. But people are less likely to hurt you if they don’t know you’re there.
Dax’s training methods toward Tom encourage him to take up space without remorse or fear. Which is starkly different from how he trains the other teenagers and kids. With them, he instructs to get in and get out fast.
Maybe Dax isn’t as my-way-or-the-highway as I thought.He’s willing to adjust his training methods and set aside special time to make sure everyone has an equal opportunity to learn in a personalized way. It makes me swoon... just a little.
Yeah, only a little.
“Keep coming, keep coming! That’s it!” Dax coaches as Tom chases after him, punching Dax in the ribs, not holding back.
Tom lands solid punches. Others stop fighting to watch them, impressed at what Dax was able to pull out of Tom. And I hope, one day, Tom realizes he was never meant to fit in because, when he’s his most authentic self, he stands out.
Dax pats Tom’s cheek in praise, then moves on to training with a younger pup.
Rumors about the young king’s fighting skills and power never did him justice. Dax is always steps ahead of his opponent, never missing, and can’t be touched. Watching him, my wolf squares her shoulders, holding our head high and nodding with approval at our mate’s impressive capabilities.
Sam catches me staring. “Impressed? He was always a good fighter, even when we were pups, but once he got his powers, he was unmatched.”
Dax waits with his hands behind his back while the kid gets himself off the ground. He offers Tom tips and critiques, and the kid hangs onto every word. Dax pats the boy on the back and moves on to the little pups, who all have bow staffs as they work on defensive techniques.
