Chapter 2: The Beast Within
1309 Words
(Lucian POV)
I couldn’t get her out of my head.
Sophia Hart.
The name alone sent a growl rumbling low in my chest, my wolf pacing restlessly under my skin.
I’d barely made it back to my penthouse suite after that gym encounter, her scent clinging to me like smoke and sweat mixed with that fresh citrus tang from her shampoo, and something sweeter, deeper, that screamed mate. Human mate.
Fuck.
How was that even possible? I’d built this empire, this pack, based on control.
She cannot just make me lose control like this.
Blackthorn Resorts wasn’t just a chain of luxury hotels; it was my territory, my shield against the old ways.
And now this woman waltzes in, lifting weights like she owned the night, and everything unravels.
I stripped off my shirt as I paced the room, the cool air doing nothing to calm the heat building inside.
My muscles were tense, coiled tight from holding back.
Watching her in that sports bra, the way it hugged her full breasts, sweat trickling down between them… her abs contracting with every pull of the bar, thighs flexing in those tight leggings.
She was strong, curvy in all the right places, built like she could take whatever I threw at her.
My c**k twitched at the thought, hardening just from the memory.
I adjusted myself, groaning. The bond hit hard, felt fated and undeniable.
But she was human. No fangs, no pack blood. The elders would lose their s**t if they knew.
Hell, I was losing mine.
And that red moon tonight? I’d seen it from my balcony, hanging there like a warning.
It was the third sighting this month.
Marcus, my beta, had already texted about it: “Scouts on the perimeter again. Crescent smell. Are you sure about the new trainer?” I ignored the subtext.
The prophecy was ancient crap— “When the Alpha’s true mate is human, the blood moon shall rise, heralding the Great Unraveling.”
Yeah, right. We’re talking boardrooms and stock options now, not moonlit rituals.
Damien Black and his Crescent pack could sniff around all they wanted; I’d crush them like always.
But Sophia… She complicated everything.
My wolf wanted to claim her right there in the gym, pin her against the mirrors, tear those leggings off, and bury myself deep until she screamed my name.
I took a cold shower, trying to wash away the urge. It didn’t work. By the time I dried off, I was already planning.
I texted Marcus: “Schedule a private session with Hart. 6 a.m. My gym. No interruptions unless it’s war.”
Sleep came in fits, bits, and pieces. I had dreams of her body under mine, her moans echoing.
When it was dawn, I was in my private gym on the top floor already, surrounded by sleek black equipment, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights fading into the morning.
I wore black athletic shorts and a fitted tank top, the fabric stretching over my chest.
I was waiting.
She arrived exactly on time, a duffel bag over her shoulder, her hair in a high ponytail that swayed with her steps.
Those hazel eyes met mine, wary but sparked with that fire I’d seen last night.
She wore the same black sports bra and leggings, her skin still glowing from whatever routine she’d done before.
Damn, she looked edible, curves that begged to be touched, strength that made me want to test her limits.
“Morning, Mr. Blackthorn,” she said, dropping her bag.
Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight hitch, the way her gaze flicked over my arms, my chest. She felt it too, that pull.
“Lucian,” I corrected, stepping closer. The air between us was humming, and charged.
“Warm-up first. Show me what you’ve got.”
We started with dynamic stretches—lunges, arm swings. She moved like liquid steel, graceful but powerful.
I mirrored her, keeping pace, but every brush of air between us felt like a tease.
Then we did circuits: burpees, kettlebell swings, push-ups.
She was good—better than good. Her form was perfect, breaths controlled, sweat starting to sheen her skin.
I spotted her on squats, standing behind, my hands hovering near her hips.
The temptation to touch… God, her ass rounded perfectly as she dipped low, thighs straining the fabric.
“You’re holding back,” she said midway, circling me during my push-up set. Her voice had that edge, challenging.
I laughed, low and rough. “Trust me, you don’t want me going full out.”
She dropped into a plank beside me, our shoulders inches apart. In the mirror across the room, our eyes locked—hers darkening, her lips parting on a breath.
The scent of her arousal hit me faint but real, mixing with her sweat. My wolf surged, demanding. I wanted to flip her over, strip her right there, and taste every inch.
By the cooldown, we were both slick with sweat, breathing heavy. I grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, handing her one.
Our fingers brushed—electricity shot straight to my groin. She felt it; her cheeks flushed deeper.
“What is this?” she whispered, not pulling away. Her eyes searched mine, confused but hungry.
I set my bottle down, stepping into her space, backing her gently against the mirrored wall.
“The pull,” I said, voice gravelly.
“Between us. You feel it every time we’re close.”
She swallowed, her chest rising fast, n*****s hardening under her bra.
“You’re my boss. This is insane.”
“Insane?” I leaned in, my lips hovering near her ear, inhaling her scent. My hand trailed up her arm, light, teasing.
“Or exactly what you need?”
She didn’t push me away. Her hands fisted my tank, pulling me closer.
Our mouths crashed; it was hot, desperate, our tongues tangling in a fight for dominance.
She tasted like salt and desire, her moan vibrating into me. I growled low, my hands sliding down her sides, gripping her hips, lifting her effortlessly.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, core pressing against my hardness. I ground into her slowly and deliberately, feeling her heat through the thin layers. Friction built, her gasps turning to whimpers as I rocked harder, my c**k straining against my shorts.
“Lucian…” she breathed, nails digging into my shoulders, sending sparks down my spine. Her body arched, breasts pressing into my chest. I nipped her neck, sucking lightly, imagining my mark there.
The kiss deepened, my fingers slipping under her bra, thumb circling a n****e until she bucked against me.
She was wet—I could smell it, feel it in the way she moved. I wanted more, to peel off those leggings, slide into her right against the mirror, watch her face as she came undone.
Then my phone buzzed on the bench—insistent, emergency tone.
Marcus.
I broke the kiss, cursing under my breath. Her lips were swollen, eyes glazed with need.
“Tonight,” I said, voice thick. “My suite. After the gym closes.”
She nodded, but doubt flickered in her gaze, mixing with the heat.
“This better not be a mistake.”
I set her down, adjusting myself painfully.
“The only mistake is waiting.”
As she grabbed her bag and left, my phone lit up again.
Marcus: “Red moon afterglow fading, but scouts breached the outer fence. Crescent’s moving in. And the elders are calling a meeting—prophecy talk.”
I clenched my jaw, my wolf snarling.
She was walking into danger, and she didn’t even know.
But now? There was no letting her go.
A distant howl echoed outside—too close for comfort.
Was it one of ours… or theirs?
- Writer
