Chapter 37
The training ground turned out to be exactly what I needed, even if my body was screaming in protest by the end of it.
“First rule,” Kiara had said before starting her torture in training form, “Forget everything you think you know about fighting. Your
wolf won’t always be there to save you. Sometimes you need to rely on what the moon goddess gave you in human form.”
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The next three hours were brutal. She taught me how to throw a proper punch without breaking my own hand, how to use my
opponent’s weight against them, how to spot the telltale signs that someone was about to strike.
My muscles burned, my lungs felt like they were on fire, and I’m pretty sure I have bruises forming in places I didn’t even know could
bruise.
Every time Kiara or the other ladies landed a hit during our sparring sessions, I reminded myself that this pain was different. This
pain was for growth, for strength, for making sure I never felt helpless again.
“You’re holding back,” called out Sarah, a petite woman who’d been teaching me defensive stances. “I can smell your fear from here. Whatever happened to you before, you need to let that anger fuel you, not paralyze you.”
She was right. Every time someone came at me, even in practice, my body would freeze for just a split second. Muscle memory from all those times Daxon raised his hand to me, all those moments when fighting back only made things worse.
“He’s not here,” I whispered to myself, blocking a slow–motion punch from Kiara. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”
By the time we finished, I was exhausted but oddly exhilarated. My hands were shaking from adrenaline, and I could taste blood where I’d bitten my tongue during one particularly intense round, but I felt more alive than I had in months.
“You did good tonight,” Kiara said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Come back next week. We’ll work on some ground techniques.”
I nodded, already knowing I would. This felt like the first step toward becoming someone who could protect herself, someone who would never again cower in a corner while someone else controlled her life.
After I thanked everyone and said my goodbyes to Leah, who was beaming with pride like she’d personally orchestrated my breakthrough, I walked outside and checked my phone. The time nearly gave me a heart attack.
12:47 AM.
I couldn’t believe it was that late. How had five to six hours passed so quickly? I was wondering how I’d even get home, especially looking like I’d been in a bar fight. My hair was matted with sweat, there was dirt on my clothes, and I’m pretty sure I had the beginnings
of a black eye forming.
But this time, I’d accepted every hit, every bruise, every moment of pain. This time, the beating was for growth, not destruction.
When I stepped outside into the cool night air, I was surprised to see a familiar figure leaning against a sleek black motorcycle under
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Chapter 37
a streetlight.
d
Tristan was still there, waiting for me.
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“You waited?‘ I said, walking up to him on unsteady legs. My body was starting to really feel the effects of the training now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
He nodded, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity that made my stomach flip. Without saying a word, he handed me his spare helmet, the same one I’d worn dozens of times before.
I took it from him, and our fingers brushed for just a moment. The contact sent an electric shock racing up my arm and straight through my entire body.
This time it wasn’t out of fear or trauma – it was something else entirely, something I couldn’t name but that made my wolf stir restlessly inside me.
I knew Tristan felt it too because I heard him take a sharp intake of breath, his hand freezing where it had touched mine.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry as I stood there not knowing what to do with the energy crackling between us. The air felt charged, like right before a thunderstorm, and I could smell his scent more clearly than ever before – pine trees and motor oil and something uniquely him that made my head spin.
“You should hold on tight, Tristan said, his voice rougher than usual as he broke whatever spell had just fallen over us. “Especially if
you’re sore from training.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice to work properly, and swung my leg over the bike behind him. When I wrapped my arms around his
waist, I had to remind myself sternly that he wasn’t just my brother’s best friend. He probably had a mate somewhere, someone who was
waiting for him to come home every night.
I needed to quit being such a horny, confused mess. The man was just being kind to a sister who needed help, nothing more.
As we pulled out onto the empty street, Tristan’s phone started ringing. I could feel the vibration against his chest where I was
holding him, the insistent buzzing cutting through the rumble of the motorcycle engine.
He didn’t answer it at first, probably because he was focused on driving safely with me as a passenger. But immediately after it
stopped, it started ringing again. Then again.
Whoever was calling really needed to reach him.
After the fourth call in less than two minutes, Tristan cursed under his breath and pulled the bike over to the side of the road. He
killed the engine and pulled out his phone, his jaw tight with concern.
“I need to take this,” he said, glancing back at me apologetically. “It might be important.”
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Chapter 37
རཱ(46)
I threw my face away, staring at the empty street instead of watching him. I didn’t want to see his expression when he heard his mate’s voice, didn’t want to imagine what ever unhealthy feeling that was already trying to claw its way out of my chest.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. Ever since that dream I had about him, I can’t stop feeling things I have no right to feel.
“What happened?” Tristan’s voice was sharp, commanding in a way that reminded me he wasn’t just any wolf. There was alpha authority in his tone that made my spine straighten automatically.
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but whatever the person was saying made Tristan’s entire body go rigid with
tension.
“Where is he now?” Tristan demanded, his free hand clenching into a fist against his thigh.
His voice softened slightly, though it still carried that edge of deadly concern. “Where is she?”
My stomach dropped. She. There was definitely a she involved in whatever crisis had interrupted our ride home.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
