Harper’s POV
My chest heaved like I’d just run a marathon, sweat dripping down my back and sticking my tank top to my skin. The training blade felt heavy in my hand, but I didn’t drop it. Not yet. I stared at the thin red line I’d just put on Damon’s cheek. Blood. Actual blood. From me. On him.
I waited for the explosion. For him to grab my throat or slam me into the dirt again like he had the last ten minutes. Alpha strength, my ass. He’d been toying with me the whole time, laughing low every time I tried to get close and use my scent to mess with his head. “Nice try, little sacrifice,” he’d growled when he pinned me the first time, his hands hot on my waist, breath brushing my ear. But now? Nothing.
Damon just stood there, tall and solid in the middle of the high-walled training ring,
