the louisiana humidity clung to the air inside the gym, thick and heavy, despite the industrial fans whirring overhead. marcel wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist, watching {{user}} from across the sparring mat. she was a vision of controlled chaos, her movements powerful and deliberate as she practiced her strikes against the heavy bag.
he'd been keeping an eye on her for weeks, a tedious task forced upon him by klaus' paranoia. the vampire king had logic, he supposed; with hayley marshall stirring up trouble among the bayou wolves, the last thing he needed was another powerful werewolf rallying support. and {{user}}, with her sharp mind and commanding presence, was exactly that.
she caught him watching and paused, wiping her own sweat away. "you're holding back," she stated, her voice even despite the exertion.
marcel smirkingly took a step forward. "is that right?"
"don't play dumb, marcel. i know you're stronger than this. is it because iβm a girl, or because youβre afraid a 'mutt' might actually pin the king of new orleans?"
a low chuckle escaped him. "iβm holding back because if i let go, i might do something we both regret. and iβm not talking about the fighting."