CHAPTER 21
1544 Words
ADINNA’S POV
Combat class was supposed to be about strategy, precision, and control.
At least, that’s what the instructor kept preaching while we stood in the training hall. It’s a massive stone room that smells faintly of sweat, metal, and burnt magic. The air is humming with energy as every student is being paired off. Claws, fangs and egos are on full display.
I’ve been paired with a werewolf named Carter. He has big and broad shoulders, with the kind of grin that screamed “I bench press people for fun.” He cracks his knuckles as if the sound alone would intimidate me. It doesn’t although I’d be lying if I said my palms aren’t sweaty.
“Try not to embarrass yourself, witch,” he says as he paces the circle. His teeth flashes as he smirks at me. “Wouldn’t want your pretty little face to bruise.”
I twirl the short staff in my hand, letting it hum with a flicker of energy. “Don’t worry,” I say sweetly. “I’ll aim for your ego instead.”
Laughter ripples from a few students nearby, which only pisses him off more. His eyes flashes amber, and that is all the warning I get before he lunges at me.
He’s fast. Too fast. But I’m smaller, lighter, and not stupid. I duck under his swing and jab the end of my staff into his ribs. The satisfying grunt that leaves his throat almost makes up for the fact that my arm now feels like it collided with a brick wall.
“Point for the witch!” someone shouts.
Carter straightens and rolls his shoulders with his grin sharpening into something darker. “Lucky hit.”
“That’s what all losers say,” I retort, panting a little.
Something in his eyes changes and the amusement drops and is replaced by something meaner. I see his hand slip into his pocket and every instinct in me is screaming at me to move out of the way but I’m a second too slow.
He flicks his wrist and a glittering cloud spirals through the air, catching the light like ash. The familiar scent hits me before the sting does.
It’s wolfsbane dust.
My stomach drops because I’m not fully recovered from all the wolfsbane in my system.
“Carter, don’t do it!” someone shouts.
I throw up my arm too late and then a blur of motion slams in front of me.
Dean.
The impact is immediate and brutal. The dust hits him full-on and begins to hiss against his skin like acid. His shirt is burned through at the shoulder and the flesh beneath it is sizzling. The smell makes my stomach churn. He staggers but doesn’t fall.
“Dean!” I scream and dropping to my knees beside him. My heart is pounding so hard it hurt. I grab his wrist with my trembling fingers and begin to brush the powder off but it only smears and makes the burn worse.
“You i***t, why would you do that?” I ask him with a shaky voice.
He winces but doesn’t pull away. “Because you didn’t deserve that.”
My throat closes up as the words hit me somewhere deep. I pour my water bottle over the wound with my hands still shaking so badly I almost dropped it. The dust sizzles out but leaves his arm raw and angry red. He hisses softly, but still manages a faint, crooked smile.
“You still think you could’ve taken him?” he teases with a rough voice.
“Shut up,” I say with teary eyes. “You could’ve died.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead he gives me a maddeningly calm look that tells me that pain was like just a minor inconvenience.
And then the atmosphere changes. The air shifts, heavily with something electric and then a low growl rolls across the room. The sound is so deep that I feel the vibration in my chest.
Every head turns toward the sound.
Jace standing at the entrance of the training hall with his eyes glowing faintly gold and his aura so thick that it makes the air feel thinner. Even the instructor freezes as Jace walks forward, silent but deadly, like a predator sizing up his prey. And his gaze is locked on Carter.
Carter’s confidence vanishes faster than his color does and he takes a step back. “It was just… it was part of the exercise, I swear—”
Jace doesn’t blink and in one movement he’s right in front of him, his voice low and dripping with venom.
“If you ever touch her again,” he says, with each word measured and dangerous, “I’ll rip your throat out with my bare hands.”
No one doubts that he would.
The room goes completely silent. Carter stammers something, but Jace doesn’t stay to hear it. His eyes flick briefly to me, sharp, assessing and unreadable, before he turns and walks out.
No one breathes until he’s gone.
The infirmary smells like antiseptic and guilt. Dean is seated on the edge of a bed with his arm wrapped in silver-infused gauze to counteract the wolfsbane burn. The nurse said he’d be fine, though I doubt she has ever had to patch up Dean’s kind before.
He glances at me with his brow raised. “You gonna keep glaring at me like that, or say thanks?”
“Thanks? You got yourself fried!”
He chuckles softly. “Better me than you.”
I fold my arms, torn between wanting to hug him and shake him. “You’re insane.”
“Probably.” He smiles faintly. “But you’re worth it.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So, I don’t.
That evening, I find Jace leaning against the wall outside the training grounds. He looks like he’d been waiting for me. Hands in his pockets and a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. The sunset caught in his hair, turning him into some golden, infuriating statue of arrogance.
“What the hell was that back there?” I demand as I march up to him.
He arches a brow. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I tend to cause a lot of hell.”
“Threatening to murder someone in front of the entire class!” I snap. “Do you even realize how that makes me look?”
He straightens slowly and takes a step closer. “Like someone I protect.”
“I didn’t ask for your protection!”
“You didn’t have to.” His voice dropps, soft but sharp. “He touched you.”
“And that gives you the right to act like I’m your property?”
He tilts his head, his smirk turning wolfish. “Maybe you are.”
My pulse stutters. The audacity of this man. “You can’t say that”
He steps in, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His eyes are molten gold now, glowing faintly in the dim light. His breath brushes against my cheek.
“Because,” he murmurs, “no one gets to hurt what’s mine.”
The words hit me like a physical touch. My breath catches. Every nerve in my body screams at me to move, to shove him away but I can’t.
Then he says more quietly, “Even if it’s you.”
That broke whatever spell he’d cast and I shove him back, hard enough that he stumbles a step. “I’m not yours,” I say, my voice shaking with anger. “And I’ll never be.”
He watches me for a long moment with an unreadable expression. Then, slowly, he smiles. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll see.”
I turn away before he can say anything else, before I can betray the heat crawling under my skin. I hate that part of me reacted and that his words made something flutter traitorously inside my chest.
Hate. That’s what it was. It has to be.
By the time Dean shows up at my door later that night, I’ve replayed the scene a hundred times in my head and still can’t figure out what disturbed me more. Jace’s words or how my pulse had reacted to them.
He stands at my doorway, hair slightly damp, arm still wrapped. “Hey,” he says softly. “Just wanted to check if you’re okay.”
I force a smile. “I should be asking you that.”
“I’ve had worse,” he shrugs. “You?”
“I’m fine.”
He gives me that knowing look that makes it clear he doesn’t believe me. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I lean against the frame, trying to sound casual. “Today was just a lot.”
“Yeah,” he says and adds with a smirk, “Next time, try not to make me play hero. It’s exhausting.”
He winks at me and then he’s gone, leaving me standing there with my heart racing, mind spinning, and still with no idea which of them terrified me more.
- Writer
