Chapter27
889 Words
Willow’s Pov
I couldn't concentrate.
How could I?
The heat of his mouth still lingered on mine. I lay in bed, my covers, tangled around my legs, staring into the dark, reliving the moment again and again..the way his lips had hovered over mine, the rough command in his voice when he whispered, “you don't know how much I want you Lylah”.
He said my name like it belonged to him.
But when dawn came, reality hit harder than any dream.
At breakfast, Kael barely looked at me. His gaze flicked past me as though I were smoke, nothing but air. He spoke to his soldiers, his sister, even the servants but not to me. And when our eyes finally met, his jaw tightened, and he looked away as if I had burned him.
It was torture.
Because I knew he had felt it too. The way his body had leaned into mine, the way his lips trembled with the shackles of holding back. I had seen it hunger, raw and in his eyes.
And yet he avoided me.
The days that followed were worse. Kael trained with the warriors, but every time I entered the grounds, he left. If I tried to speak to him, his replies were short, distant, as though I were no more than a guest he was obliged to tolerate.
He wasn’t just ignoring me.
He was running from me.
The more he avoided me, the more I wanted him. My skin ached for his touch, my lips throbbed with the ghost of his kiss. At night, I lay awake, furious at myself for craving a man who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.
Until fury turned to humiliation.
The training grounds were alive that day with the clang of swords and the thud of boots. Wolves barked instructions, blades sliced through the air, and yet for me, the world had narrowed to one figure.
Kael.
He stood at the far end, his back to me, sword shiny as he demonstrated a precise movement to a younger warrior. His posture was just perfection, straight, commanding, and effortless control in every line of his body. My heart twisted with parts of desire and fury, because he hadn’t spoken a word to me since that morning at breakfast.
Not one.
Not even when I entered the training yard.
He glanced at me once, briefly, and then… nothing.
I picked up the practice blade, its weight heavy but familiar in my grip. The urge to scream at him, to demand he “see” me, was overwhelming.
So I fought.
When my turn came to spar, I stepped forward. I could feel Kael’s gaze flick over me before he deliberately looked past me, his expression hard as stone. He paired me with one of the older wolves, a man who fought with brute strength and little finesse. I parried, blocked, moved with speed and grace but my mind was not on him. My mind was on Kael, standing just a few steps away, watching but not watching.
I stumbled when the wolf lunged harder, his blade grazing too close. Kael’s voice cut across the yard, sharp, cold.
“Your stance is wrong.”
The words cracked like a lash. My head snapped toward him, my pulse leaping, but he didn’t even meet my eyes.
“Keep your weight balanced,” he continued, his tone still cut. “You’ll be thrown to the ground if you lean too far forward.”
I swallowed, heat rising in my throat, not just from toil but from the sting of his dismissal. I adjusted my stance, glaring at him, willing him to look at me. But he simply folded his arms, expression unreadable.
The sparring continued. My opponent came at me harder, and again Kael’s voice cut through, cold, detached.
“Too slow.” “Your grip is weak.”
“Don’t hesitate.”
Each correction was a dagger, precise, intentional, and utterly impersonal. He could have stepped forward, shown me with his hands, guided my body the way he had before. But he didn’t. He refused to touch me.
And gods, that hurt more than the strikes of my opponent’s blade.
When the match ended, I was panting, sweat sticking to my skin, my chest heaving. My opponent grunted in approval before stepping away. I looked toward Kael, waiting, hoping, needing something more.
But he gave only the faintest nod, like I was no different from the others.
Something inside me snapped.
“Do you have anything else to say, Alpha?” I asked, my voice sharp and mocking. A few heads turned in the yard, warriors pausing mid swing.
Kael’s eyes flicked to me, just for a second. That was all. Then he said, coolly, “No. You’re dismissed.”
Dismissed.
Like I was nothing.
The fire in my chest blazed, of humiliation and hunger. He thought he could keep this wall between us, that his cold corrections and lack of touch would push me away. But all it did was make me ache for him more, ache and burn and rage.
As I stalked off the field, my grip on the sword was so tight my knuckles turned white, one thought repeated in my mind.
He would not win this game.
Not this time.
- Writer
