Chapter Six
759 Words
The days following their night in the clearing blurred together, a fragile truce forming between Lyra and Kael. She still kept her distance, but something had shifted. Kael didn’t push—he simply lingered, his presence a steady reminder that she wasn’t alone.
Lyra hated how comforting that was.
One evening, she found herself in the pack’s training grounds, sitting on a wooden bench while the warriors sparred under the fading sunlight. The rhythmic clash of claws and fists filled the air, accompanied by grunts of exertion.
Her gaze drifted to Kael, who stood at the edge of the group, his arms crossed as he observed the younger wolves. He was dressed simply in a black T-shirt and jeans, but there was nothing simple about him. His presence dominated the space, a silent command in every glance and gesture.
He must have felt her eyes on him because he turned, his golden gaze locking with hers. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, and Lyra’s heart did a maddening little flip.
“Damn him,” she muttered under her breath, tearing her eyes away.
She didn’t hear him approach, but suddenly he was there, standing in front of her with an easy confidence that made her bristle.
“Enjoying the show?” he teased, his tone light.
Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Kael chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Too late.”
He sat beside her, his broad shoulder brushing hers. She stiffened at the contact, but he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he did and just didn’t care.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come out tonight,” he said after a moment.
Lyra shrugged, keeping her gaze on the sparring wolves. “Figured I’d get some air.”
Kael leaned back, his arms resting on the bench. “You should join them.”
She gave him a flat look. “Pass.”
“You’re a fighter,” he said, his tone turning serious. “I’ve seen it in the way you move, the way you hold yourself. Sparring might help... clear your head.”
Lyra snorted. “What, you think a few punches will solve all my problems?”
Kael smiled, but there was something thoughtful in his gaze. “No. But it might remind you how strong you are.”
The words caught her off guard, a flicker of something warm stirring in her chest. She quickly buried it, refusing to let him see how much his words affected her.
Before she could respond, one of the younger wolves approached, his breath coming in short gasps. “Alpha Kael,” he said, bowing slightly. “Care for a round?”
Kael grinned, the sharp, predatory edge of it making Lyra’s stomach flip. “You’re feeling brave tonight, Eli.”
The younger wolf laughed nervously. “Thought I’d test myself against the best.”
Kael stood, rolling his shoulders. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
As he stepped onto the training mat, Lyra found herself watching him more closely than she intended. He moved with an ease that spoke of years of experience, his every step calculated yet relaxed.
When the sparring began, it was clear Kael was holding back. He dodged Eli’s strikes with minimal effort, his movements fluid and precise. But when he countered, it was with a controlled power that left no doubt about who was in charge.
The match ended quickly, with Eli on his back and Kael offering him a hand up.
“Good effort,” Kael said, clapping the younger wolf on the shoulder. “You’re getting faster.”
Eli grinned, despite the sweat dripping down his face. “Thanks, Alpha.”
Kael turned back toward Lyra, his gaze locking on hers as if he could sense her thoughts.
“You’re staring,” he said, his voice teasing as he approached.
Lyra rolled her eyes, though her cheeks burned. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He stopped in front of her, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Care to test your skills, Lyra? Or are you afraid I’ll win?”
Her competitive streak flared at his challenge, overriding her instinct to keep her distance. She stood, squaring her shoulders. “Fine. But don’t cry when I wipe the floor with you.”
Kael’s grin widened, the playful glint in his eyes making her stomach twist in a way she refused to acknowledge.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, stepping aside to let her onto the mat.
- Writer
