he's 100% sure he can do anything for the woman he loves.
Chapter 1
Lucas Vale strolled casually into his family dojo. It’d been a long time since he’d visited. Too long, probably. But the only things that waited for him here were bad memories and a past he couldn’t escape.
In the back of the dojo, his younger brother Asher was striking a punching bag.
The dojo looked like many he’d trained in over the past years abroad, but was different for one key reason. It was shifter dojo, where he and his werewolf brothers trained other shifters in martial arts and self-defense.
Lucas came up to the desk and rang the bell loudly. Ding, ding, ding . Asher’s punches abruptly stopped, and he paused for a moment, holding the bag to keep it from swaying wildly on its chain.
“Lucas. I could smell you a mile away. What brings you here, old man?” Asher asked, letting go of the bag and walking across the mat toward him.
“Just in town for a few days. Figured I would stop by,” Lucas replied with a shrug.
“Really? Great job letting us know. Did you send an e-vite or something?” Asher replied disdainfully, walking behind the desk into a back room. The sound of gloves being pulled off followed, and the dark-haired man soon reappeared, pulling on a torn T-shirt that referenced some bygone metal band.
“Watch your mouth. Don’t make me kick your ass,” Lucas replied.
“Ha, that’s the Luke I know.” Asher came from around the back of the desk, and the two men shared a firm handshake, then went into a quick but spirited hug.
Their relationship had been tenuous when they were younger. Lucas and his brother Jordan were the sons of their father’s first wife, who had died when they both were very young. Not long afterward, their father remarried an alpha female, and Asher was born. Though they shared everything, the fact that Asher was full alpha and the others were not had always felt slightly awkward. And though Lucas had somewhat come to terms with it, Jordan, their middle brother, never had.
But all three brothers had always shared this together—MMA, the dojo, the love of physical discipline and honing their bodies to be perfect fighting machines.
“Do you have time to spar for a minute before class starts?” Asher asked.
“I think I’ll pass,” Lucas replied coolly.
“You’re not getting soft on me, are you now?”
“Is that a challenge?” Lucas said, starting to loosen his tie. “It sounds like it to me.” The tie came off with a gentle slide, one smooth motion.
“Hey, I’ve heard you haven’t had time for training with all that promoting and business crap you’ve been doing,” Asher retorted, shrugging smugly.
“Well, I can’t have my kid brother forgetting his place, now can I?” The white jacket slid off and was tossed onto a neighboring coat tree. Then the perfectly pressed shirt, button by button.
Taking the hint, Asher moved from the waiting area in front of the desk. The anticipation in the empty studio was tangible. It had been years since either had fought the other, and Asher wasn’t going to waste time getting his brother back in the ring before he disappeared again.
Lucas’s shirt was off now, revealing a perfect set of abs. Lucas might have been a businessman, but he was no desk jockey. The thrill of training, the thrill of fighting, had driven him from childhood to adulthood.
“Not bad. At least I see you haven’t gotten pudgy on me. But can you do anything with it?” Asher taunted from the middle of the mat-covered floor.
“All in good time, brother,” said Lucas as he leaned over, broad shoulders and powerful hands gingerly untying his shoes and pulling off his socks, then kicking them carefully to slide under the hall tree where his coat and shirt rested. Standing back at his full height again, Lucas popped his knuckles and stretched his muscles, a pre-fight habit he’d acquired from seeing so many humans do it. His hulking pecs and biceps finely attuned,
Chapter 1
Lucas Vale strolled casually into his family dojo. It’d been a long time since he’d visited. Too long, probably. But the only things that waited for him here were bad memories and a past he couldn’t escape.
In the back of the dojo, his younger brother Asher was striking a punching bag.
The dojo looked like many he’d trained in over the past years abroad, but was different for one key reason. It was shifter dojo, where he and his werewolf brothers trained other shifters in martial arts and self-defense.
Lucas came up to the desk and rang the bell loudly. Ding, ding, ding . Asher’s punches abruptly stopped, and he paused for a moment, holding the bag to keep it from swaying wildly on its chain.
“Lucas. I could smell you a mile away. What brings you here, old man?” Asher asked, letting go of the bag and walking across the mat toward him.
“Just in town for a few days. Figured I would stop by,” Lucas replied with a shrug.
“Really? Great job letting us know. Did you send an e-vite or something?” Asher replied disdainfully, walking behind the desk into a back room. The sound of gloves being pulled off followed, and the dark-haired man soon reappeared, pulling on a torn T-shirt that referenced some bygone metal band.
“Watch your mouth. Don’t make me kick your ass,” Lucas replied.
“Ha, that’s the Luke I know.” Asher came from around the back of the desk, and the two men shared a firm handshake, then went into a quick but spirited hug.
Their relationship had been tenuous when they were younger. Lucas and his brother Jordan were the sons of their father’s first wife, who had died when they both were very young. Not long afterward, their father remarried an alpha female, and Asher was born. Though they shared everything, the fact that Asher was full alpha and the others were not had always felt slightly awkward. And though Lucas had somewhat come to terms with it, Jordan, their middle brother, never had.
But all three brothers had always shared this together—MMA, the dojo, the love of physical discipline and honing their bodies to be perfect fighting machines.
“Do you have time to spar for a minute before class starts?” Asher asked.
“I think I’ll pass,” Lucas replied coolly.
“You’re not getting soft on me, are you now?”
“Is that a challenge?” Lucas said, starting to loosen his tie. “It sounds like it to me.” The tie came off with a gentle slide, one smooth motion.
“Hey, I’ve heard you haven’t had time for training with all that promoting and business crap you’ve been doing,” Asher retorted, shrugging smugly.
“Well, I can’t have my kid brother forgetting his place, now can I?” The white jacket slid off and was tossed onto a neighboring coat tree. Then the perfectly pressed shirt, button by button.
Taking the hint, Asher moved from the waiting area in front of the desk. The anticipation in the empty studio was tangible. It had been years since either had fought the other, and Asher wasn’t going to waste time getting his brother back in the ring before he disappeared again.
Lucas’s shirt was off now, revealing a perfect set of abs. Lucas might have been a businessman, but he was no desk jockey. The thrill of training, the thrill of fighting, had driven him from childhood to adulthood.
“Not bad. At least I see you haven’t gotten pudgy on me. But can you do anything with it?” Asher taunted from the middle of the mat-covered floor.
“All in good time, brother,” said Lucas as he leaned over, broad shoulders and powerful hands gingerly untying his shoes and pulling off his socks, then kicking them carefully to slide under the hall tree where his coat and shirt rested. Standing back at his full height again, Lucas popped his knuckles and stretched his muscles, a pre-fight habit he’d acquired from seeing so many humans do it. His hulking pecs and biceps finely attuned,
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