Before I can move, Ryker’s arm wraps around my waist, yanking me hard against his chest like I’m a plaything he’s reluctant to let go of, and I gasp, the instinct to fight rising in me like a storm threatening to break. The moment his grip tightens, panic surges through my veins, a vicious chill slamming into the warmth he brings.
“Ryker, let me go!” I plead, my voice strained, but he just laughs—a dark, dangerous sound that ignites fear and something else entirely deep within me. “What better defense class,” he growls against my hair, breathing in like I’m some heady drug he can’t get enough of, “than training with three Alphas?”
His body is a wall of heat and muscle, caging me in a grip of iron. The clean, earthy scent of him, pine needles and damp soil clogs my senses, a stark contras
