Alpha Rogue 3 (BBW Paranormal Wolf Shifter Romance) by Terry Bolryder Page B

misery, or something like that.
    All I can feel is a terrible sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach. And somewhere, Rose’s eyes are on me.
    Can’t let her down now.
    I rush at Legrand, hoping to land a knee square into his chest. This time, Legrand moves, redirecting my knee with a circular motion made with his elbow.
    Finally, a target that moves.
    I counter with a left hook, then a right. Legrand’s technique is good though. Really good. He’s able to put his arms up to catch my swinging fists with his hardened shoulders, avoiding any real damage. Hoping to catch him off guard, I whirl with my elbow toward his face. The cranking motion of the attack creates incredible force, and it’s often enough to knock an opponent out in one blow, if it lands correctly.
    Legrand just ducks to the side, looking completely unaffected, his facade unbroken. I spin again on the ground, hoping to sweep his leg and bring him to the ground, where I’m confident my Jiu-Jitsu practice will come in handy, but he simply skips backward.
    Not only is he fast, he’s experienced too. When did Mr. Shifter-Murderer have time to work on his MMA form?
    I’m not used to matches like this, and I step back for a second to catch my breath. Even going at my fastest, he’s unnaturally fast. I remind myself that he’s a shifter too. Except that even most shifters wouldn’t be a match for me.
    He’s just got great technique, I think. It’s just that, right?
    Legrand’s eyes have changed. They’re no longer thinking, as if he’s somewhere in the back of his head. They’re focused now, completely on me, like one of those creepy optical illusions that is always staring at you, no matter what direction you look at it from. Only instead of a statue or a creepy ghost, it’s the eyes of a killer.
    I got this though.
    Legrand approaches me, throwing a roundhouse, which narrowly misses my face as I duck under it. Instantly afterwards he throws several jabs. I’m able to block them, but they’re not the jabs from a human MMA fighter. Or any normal shifter for that matter. It stings, even though I’m able to mostly deflect the blows with the harder parts of my body. He leaps and brings his knee toward me, and I back up quickly, the force of it narrowly missing me.
    While I’m still trying to process the rapid change of events, The Chainsaw swivels and throws his leg backwards, catching me squarely off guard. The force is incredible, and it throws me back against the cage, which is closer now than I remember it being.
    It looks like he was trying to corral me against the edge of the ring. It’s a terrible place to be, generally. The only way out is through your opponent.
    Being slammed against the cage hurts, but I’m reeling from the blow from his heel. It felt like a thousand bricks focused into only a couple of square inches of space. Even my incredibly hard abs are struggling to recover, and I’m trying to gasp for air.
    Wasting no time though, Legrand charges into me, slamming into the reinforced fence that acts as the boundary for the ring. He’s locked one of my arms in his, the other hand wrapped around my neck, preventing me from slipping past him.
    I try to wriggle free, but it’s no use. Not only is his technique flawless, his strength is incredible. I’ve fought shifters before, often outnumbered, and they were never a match for me. Until now.
    Legrand, his face inches from mine, looks into my eyes, which I can now see are dark grey, cold and soulless.
    Using my free arm, I try to get Legrand to move, striking him in the side. But stuck against the fencing, I can’t get any leverage. There’s no space to move in to get behind any of my punches.
    He holds my locked arm tighter, and I can feel my joints and bones bending as he tries to snap my arm with the vice made by his armpit. I’m able to resist it, but just barely.
    Legrand just looks at me and shakes his head slightly.
    “Tsk, tsk, Hawthorne. You didn’t think you were