Chapter 11
1476 Words
Ivy's pov
I felt as if it was the stupidest thing I had ever decided on, and I knew it as the words left my mouth. A challenge? Against them? Against him? I must've lost my mind. I stood still, my fingers clenched into fists, as my eyes darted between the three of them—Ronan, Elias, and Kiernan–the infamous triplets who wore their arrogance like armor. The air around them practically sizzled with mischief and ego.
I could already feel my skin heating from the silent mockery in their gaze.
Ronan's smirk was the worst of it. That lazy, smug curl of his lips that said I know exactly what you're thinking and it's cute you think you'll win.
I narrowed my eyes at him, my teeth grinding. I refused to let myself be toyed with. Elias was grinning like an i***t, his dimples so deep it made my stomach churn. It wasn't that I hated them–not really. It was just the way they carried themselves. Like the world bent to their will, like they were invincible.
Well, they weren't. At least, I hoped they weren't.
Ronan tilted his head, his gaze fixed on me like I was a puzzle he was slowly unraveling. “You sure you want to go through with this, Ivy?” he asked smoothly. His voice always had that deep, honeyed tone—dangerous and soft, like a velvet knife.
Before I could answer, Kiernan spoke up. “How do we even do this? What are the rules? Surely, you don't want an audience, right?” His tone wasn't mocking, but I could still feel the amusement laced within it.
Ronan was the one who suggested the duel. Of course, he was. “Outside the training ground,” he said. “Away from prying eyes." Just us.”
That meant no pack members, no one to hear witness, no one to save my pride if things went sideways. Still, I nodded stiffly. If I was going to make a fool of myself, I'd rather it be in private.
They led me through the dense woods behind the pack house, the scent of pine and damp earth curling into my lungs. The triplets walked ahead, talking in low voices, every now and then glancing back at me. I hated how calm they seemed, like they knew how this was going to end.
Elias fell into step behind me. “Three rounds,” he said casually, his tone almost friendly. “Simple rule. Whoever gets pinned to the ground loses the first round. First to two wins.”
I gave a curt nor, not trusting my voice to come out without shaking. My heart was already beating too fast. I wasn't scared. Not exactly. I just wasn't ready to be humiliated.
The clearing came into view, a wide-open space marked with old training poles and sparring dummies. The air was thick with tension. Ronan rolled his shoulders, stripping his shirt off without fanfare and tossing it to the ground.
I tried not to stare–but God, it was hard not to. He was all lean muscle and quiet power, the kind of strength that didn't need to be shouted. I turned away quickly, hating the way my throat went dry.
“Ready when you are,” Ronan said.
I stepped into the circle they had drawn in the dirt, my body humming with nervous energy. This was it.
The first round started faster than I anticipated.
I lunged. Ronan dodged.
I swung. He caught my hand.
In a blink, I was on my back, staring at the canopy of trees, Ronan straddling my waist with one hand pinning my shoulder down.
“Round one,” he said smugly. “Guess who won.”
I shoved him off with a growl, humiliation curling in my gut. Damn him. I wasn't even sure how he did it. One second, I was moving, the next I was down.
“Try not to blink next time,” Elias called, clearly enjoying himself from the sidelines.
I ignored him.
Round two began. I adjusted my stance, circling Ronan like a predator, despite feeling like the prey. This time I moved slower, watching him, waiting for an opening.
Ronan chuckled. “You sure you want to keep going? You could always forfeit. Save yourself the bruises.”
“Shut up,” I snapped.
He came at me. I ducked under his arm, swept my leg–but he caught himself. He was too quick, too strong. Every move I made, he had a counter. Every time I tried to land a hit, he was already there, ready to block or redirect.
I was sweating now, my breath ragged, my muscles screaming from the effort. Ronan, on the other hand, looked like he'd just taken a casual stroll through the woods.
“Ivy,” he said, dodging a swing, “I admire your effort, really. But maybe you should've stuck to yelling at me, like you usually do.”
That did it.
Anger bloomed in my chest, fierce and hit. I bared my teeth and struck harder, faster, not caring finesse anymore. Just rage and instinct. But my rage was sloppy. And Ronan? Ronan was clean.
He twisted, knocked me off-balance, and the next thing I knew, my back hit the ground again, a grunt escaping my lips. His weight pressed into me, pinning my wrists above my head.
“Two,” he whispered, too close, his breath brushing my cheek. “One more and it's done.”
I glared up at him, furious.
But somewhere beneath the fury was something else. Something soft and aching. Because our faces were too close. Because his eyes were too intense. Because the mate pull was tugging at me again, cruel and demanding.
He climbed off me slowly, and I could've sworn his fingers lingered.
“Final round,” Kiernan called.
I was already getting up.
This was it.
I couldn't lose.
Not again.
Before I could second-guess myself, I shifted. My bones cracked and morphed, due sprouting along my limbs as my wolf emerged, silver-furred and blazing with defiance.
The triplets stared at me in surprise–but Ronan was already moving, shifting into his own wolf, a large midnight-black thick beast with glowing ember eyes.
We collided in the center of the circle, teeth snapping, claws digging into the diet. I fought like hell, fury and adrenaline making me faster than I'd ever been. I darted around him, snapping at his legs, his tail, biting him into lunging.
He did–and I was ready.
I leapt, sinking my teeth into his shoulder. He howled, turning sharply, but I was already gone, already on the other side.
We danced, wild and unrelenting. He was stronger, but I was faster. He had power, but I had precision.
Then, mid leap, I shifted back. My wolf receded, my human form slamming into his chest as I tackled him, catching him off guard. We tumbled together, limbs tangled, rolling in the dirt.
And then we stopped.
Both of us flat on our backs, our chest rising and falling, breathless.
I blinked.
Ronan was staring at me, his eyes wide with something I couldn't name. Maybe awe. Maybe confusion. Maybe something deeper.
I didn't move.
Neither did he.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. And that's when it hit me.
The mate bond.
It surged between us like a tidal wave, crashing into me with the force of a storm. It was hot and aching, dragging me under. My chest ached with the weight of it, the closeness of him, the way our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces that had always belonged.
Ronan's eyes flickered to my lips. For a moment, he looked lost. Then he whispered, “Ivy…”
I swallowed, hard. My throat was dry.
Our faces were too close again.
Too close.
I hated that I didn't hate it.
Our breathing slowed. The world narrowed to just this moment, just this shared breath and the thunder of our hearts.
I could feel Elias and Kiernan watching. I could feel the cool breeze against my sweat-slick skin.
But none of it mattered.
Ronan was looking at me like I was something he hadn't expected but couldn't let go of. And I–
I wasn't sure of what I felt.
Anger. Yes.
Confusion. Definitely.
Desire? Maybe.
But above all, that ache. That deep, unrelenting ache that only the bond could cause. A pull o couldn't fight.
Eventually, I forced myself to look away, breaking the pull that felt like a spell. I pushed myself up, not bothering to check if Ronan was still watching.
That tether between us. Pulled tight.
The round wasn't won.
But something else had begun.
And I wasn't sure I was ready.
- Writer
