Chapter 5
725 Words
The morning light barely pierced through the heavy drapes, but I was already awake—sitting on the edge of the massive bed, glaring at the dying embers in the fireplace like they had personally betrayed me.
Sleep had been impossible after Kellan’s visit.
Even now, every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
The sharp, commanding set of his jaw. The slight curl of his dark hair, just wild enough to hint at the beast beneath the polished Alpha exterior. The way his ice-blue eyes cut straight through me, as if he could see every secret I tried to bury.
And Gods help me, the way he looked in that damned shirt—muscles flexing with every small movement, fabric stretched taut over shoulders that seemed carved from stone. When he stepped closer last night, the firelight had caught on the lines of his body—the outline of abs hard enough to break a girl’s willpower, visible even through the thin fabric.
I squeezed my thighs together instinctively, cursing under my breath.
Focus, my wolf growled inside me, though I could feel her own restless energy matching mine.
“I am,” I muttered, dragging myself to my feet. “I’m going to train. That’s all I’m here for.”
And him.
I shoved the thought aside.
Later. After I’ve proven myself. After I’ve earned my place.
I threw on a pair of black leggings and a fitted long-sleeve top, pulling my hair into a messy braid. No makeup. No hesitation.
Just strength.
Just survival.
By the time I stepped outside, the morning air sliced against my skin, crisp and cold enough to clear my head. The training grounds spread out behind the main pack house—a large, open clearing lined with worn mats, sparring dummies, and a small group of warriors already stretching under the sharp eyes of a few instructors.
I slipped into the shadows, watching them for a moment.
Gauging. Measuring.
You can do this, I reminded myself.
I crossed the field, and a few heads turned toward me—some curious, some dismissive. I ignored them all and began my warm-up.
Rolling my shoulders, testing the stiffness in my muscles, stretching deep into each movement until heat started to lick at my skin.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a shadow moving.
Up on a small rise overlooking the field, a figure stood leaning casually against a tree.
Kellan.
Arms folded. Stance deceptively relaxed.
Watching me.
Watching only me.
My wolf stirred, pacing under my skin.
He sees us. He measures us. He will test us.
Good. I wanted him to.
A whistle blew sharp across the field, and the instructor called us to gather.
I barely had time to fall into line when a second voice—deeper, colder—cut across the clearing.
“She spars with me.”
I stiffened.
The others immediately shifted aside, giving him space.
Kellan stepped down from the hill, rolling his shoulders in an almost lazy stretch, but his eyes locked on mine with deadly focus.
Every instinct screamed at me to run.
Every ounce of pride screamed louder to stay.
He came to stand in front of me, towering and solid, radiating raw power.
“Scared, little wolf?” he asked, voice a soft rumble that danced wicked along my nerves.
I smirked, even as my blood pounded. “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?”
A low sound escaped his chest—something between a laugh and a growl. Pure male appreciation.
Without another word, he shifted into a fighting stance, feet braced, muscles coiled.
The instructor barked, “Begin!”
And for one electric heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then Kellan lunged.
Fast. Blindingly fast.
But I wasn’t slow either.
I dropped low, twisting away from his strike, coming up with a snap-kick that narrowly missed his ribs. He turned smoothly, faster than anyone that size should be able to, catching my wrist with a grip that sent heat racing up my arm.
Our bodies collided—sparring, grappling, muscles straining—and everywhere he touched me, my wolf roared approval.
He matches us. He challenges us.
I broke free, panting slightly, and circled him.
Kellan’s lips quirked up at one corner—finally, he seemed to say.
Finally, something worth fighting for.
- Writer
