First touch.
Marcus attacked with fierce determination, his body lunging toward the beautiful woman standing across from him. He unleashed a quick series of jabs aimed at her slender figure, his muscles tense while he aimed for her middle. Each punch misses their target.
He could only stare at her light green eyes, she was enjoying it.
Marcus frowned; he had been trained his whole life, yet this woman anticipated his every move.
With a swift twist of her body, she ducked low, her midnight hair flowing behind her like a dark wave as she evaded his strikes. He caught a glimpse of a smile on her rosy lips as she rose back up in a seamless motion, her fist striking his shoulder with a solid thud.
The impact sent a jolt through him, and Marcus cursed under his breath, stumbling back as he fought to regain his footing.
A grin crept onto Marcus's lips despite the sting in his shoulder. He was impressed by her agility, the way her body moved with such fluid grace. He took a deep breath, centering himself, and shifted his feet, ready to attack again.
This time, he drove forward with more aggression, his wolf stirring inside of him.
His wolf’s black eyes flickering through his own brown eyes.
He focused, but the way her soft green eyes narrowed as she concentrated on his movements made him slightly lose focus.
"Damn, she is beautiful." But in his fixation on her gaze, he failed to anticipate her sidestep; her leg shot up with pinpoint accuracy, striking toward his midsection and catching him off-guard.
Marcus staggered back, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him.
His wolf purring with delight.
Before he could regain his balance, she was already on him, delivering a quick elbow to his side with more force than he had thought she was capable of. A soft grunt escaped his lips, the air leaving his lungs in a rush.“Not bad for a low-ranking warrior,” he managed to say as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
He straightened his back as he locked eyes with her.
“Don’t underestimate your opponent,” she replied, her voice steady, stripped of emotion, but her determination shone through like a beacon.
“Again,” his wolf urged, a primal need thrumming through him.
Without warning, Marcus lunged at her again, unleashing a flurry of rapid punches that sought to overwhelm her defense. But she was ready. With lightning-fast reflexes, she blocked and dodged, her feet dancing across the mat with practiced grace. Each block and parry fell into sync with his movements—an intricate dance of combat that made the air crackle with tension.
Inside him, his wolf purred with delight, awakening a raw instinct in response to her presence.
He focused on her face, absorbing the delicate contours of her features—the gentle curve of her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly with each calculated move. Yet, it was the fierce determination in her eyes that captivated him the most, a spark of fire that made her all the more alluring.
Before he realized it, he had lost his concentration, again. With a fluid spin, she swept his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat. The soft thud echoed in the stillness of the room, and his breath escaped him in a grunt.
“Beautiful,” his wolf echoed in his mind, a primal admiration that stirred within him.
Marcus didn’t know if he should be embarrassed or intrigued.
Marcus stared up at her, watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath. She stood over him, a vision of strength and grace, her posture relaxed but ready.
“I didn’t expect that,” he managed, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he pushed himself up on his elbows.
A slight smile appeared on her lips, her confidence radiating from her. “You should always expect the unexpected when training with someone new,” she replied, her voice steady and confident, each word a subtle challenge, her hand extended to him.
Marcus grasped her hand, and with surprising ease, she pulled him up from the ground. Her small hand nearly vanished in his rugged grip, a rush of unfamiliar excitement coursing through him as his fingers gently brushed hers. As she lifted him, warmth radiated from her touch—a comforting sensation that sent his heart racing.
He blinked, his pulse quickening for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, as he gazed down at their hands still entwined—her delicate fingers against his calloused palm, it that felt oddly perfect.
“Guess I need to step up my game,” Marcus said, his voice rougher than usual, tinged with a hint of admiration.
She smiled back, her eyes glinting with something that almost felt like a challenge. “You might just need more than that,” she teased, stepping back with a playful glint in her gaze, her stance poised for the next round.
Suddenly, the room crackled to life with the rhythmic sound of breathing, punctuated by the sharp cracks of strikes meeting their targets. Marcus shook off the moment, pulling himself back to the training room’s familiar surroundings.
He was in the training hall.
The Lunar Training Hall was more than just a training facility; his eyes sweeping over the room, watching as warriors sparred and practiced with both skill and fury. He had been in this place more times than he could count, each time feeling the weight of it settle deeper in his bones, but this was the first time he noticed… her.
He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that began to swirl in his mind. Focus, Marcus. He let go of her hand, but the warmth lingered, an echo of their connection that he couldn’t quite shake.
“Marcus and Lena, are you finished sparring?”
The sharpness of Dante's voice sliced through the air, drawing Marcus's attention away from the match. He turned to see his father’s Beta standing just a few feet away, his posture rigid and his expression as unyielding as granite. The weight of his presence filled the room with an unspoken authority.
“Yes, Dante…” Marcus replied, his voice steady, though his heart raced slightly. He glanced at Lena again, her name lingering on his lips like a sweet echo that puzzled him. Why did he feel this strange flutter in his chest?
“Lena and I are done,” he added, trying to sound casual, but the way her name rolled off his tongue felt like a wish, a promise of something more to come.
Dante’s gaze shifted between them, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if he could sense the unspoken tension hanging in the air.
“Then find new partners,” he commanded.
Just as the words left his lips, a loud, authoritative voice cut through the atmosphere. “Marcus.”
Marcus instinctively stepped back from Lena, his eyes locked onto his father standing at the door.
Anton’s presence was magnetic, commanding respect and authority. He was not just the Alpha; he embodied strength and resolve, both physically and mentally. He inspired a blend of loyalty and fear, and above all, he was Marcus’s father.
“Enough.” Anton’s voice was low but carried a weight that silenced the room. “Playtime is over.”
“I was just getting into it, Father. A little sparring is good for—”
But his father interrupted him with his stone cold eyes. “I said enough.” Anton's voice sliced through the air like a blade.
His expression was hard: “There’s no time for games. Leave the little she-wolf and come with me.”
Marcus felt the air thicken around him, “Father, I—”
“Now, Marcus,” Anton insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Marcus shifted his focus away from Lena, the spark of connection they had shared dimming under the weight of his father’s tone.
“Dante, you can continue training,” Anton instructed as he turned. His presence demanded obedience.
“Yes, Alpha,” Dante replied, his eyes still locked on Lena.
As they walked out of the sparring area, Marcus looked one last time at Lena, her figure framed by the soft light of the training hall.
His wolf yelped in regret, as soon as Marcus tore his gaze away from her.
“What’s going on with me?” Marcus muttered, rubbing his neck and following his father out of the training hall.
