Chapter 25
ROWAN
Forty-eight hours of training feels like a lifetime when every square inch of your body is either bruised, sore, or plotting revenge. My arms ache, my ribs feel like they’ve been used as Cade’s personal drum set, and I’m fairly certain my legs are going to file for emancipation.
And yet—according to everyone else—I’m “improving”.
Translation: Cade punches slower now, so I at least look like I have a fighting chance.
Between him barking again like it’s his favorite word, Iris on the sidelines with snacks and heckling things like, “Have you tried fighting with a mouthful of popcorn, sugarplum? Builds character.” And, Archie offering play-by-play commentary about how I dodge like a “panicked chipmunk,” it’s basically been a week condensed into two days.
The worst part? Most of what they’re saying isn’t wrong.
I am getting stronger. At supernatural speeds. Something I wasn’t sure I liked at first, but now? I can shift faster, summon my energy no matter my mood, and—in my finest moments—land a punch that actually makes Cade grunt. That first, glorious umph still replays in my head like a victory anthem.
I thought this routine would continue endlessly until the next inevitable attack, but Cade surprised me after training this afternoon, telling me that we’d be taking a break from physical combat. That the two of us needed to talk about “other ways” to enhance my abilities.
A fact that has my stomach twisting almost painfully, and Liz insisting I’m about to go on a date with my mate.
That particular word hasn’t been brought up much, but it also isn’t ever far from my mind. Especially with the voice in my head.
Just be thankful I haven’t humped him yet, Wolf says, perfectly deadpan.
I nearly choke on my own spit. She’s serious. Which is terrifying and, oddly, reassuring. Mostly because I know she’s had plenty of opportunities to hijack my body and throw us into the bond headfirst. The fact that she hasn’t yet feels like a miracle.
A memory is forced into my thoughts. One of his sweaty chest pressed against my back as we trained. It flashes through my mind, heating my skin and making me shudder until I’m forced to roll my neck. A pathetic attempt to rid myself of pent up—and denied—emotions.
Shifter shits, quit doing that, I snap at Wolf as my heart continues to race and my libido turns up to a hundred.
Just reminding you of what we could have every night. Her tone drips with smugness, and I can feel her smirk curling through my bloodstream.
It’s infuriating and unfair. Because even as I grumble, I let the memory linger. My palm drifts to my chest, and for a dangerous moment, I wonder just how far my imagination would take me if I let it.
Why pretend when you could be ravaged by the beast himself? Wolf presses, all sly temptation.
Sometimes I think she says things purely to torture me. Other times, I’m convinced I actually confuse her with my stubborn reluctance. Because after all those hours of close contact with Cade, I can’t explain my restraint, even if I wanted to.
Maybe tonight will bring you answers, she muses, haughty satisfaction curling through every syllable as I drag a brush through my hair.
“Yeah,” I murmur to my reflection. “Maybe.”
Steam billows around me as I step out of the bathroom, my new robe wrapped tightly around me, my magically dried hair falling around my shoulders. I’m already rehearsing which clothes will scream “not a date, but I still want you to think I’m hot” when I freeze.
Liz is perched in a chair by my window like a gargoyle in leggings. Arms folded and expression proud.
“Really?” I clutch the robe tighter around me. “Do you ever knock, or do you just materialize in people’s rooms like a judgmental vampire?”
Her dark eyes flick over me once before she smirks. “You’re the one walking around half-naked. Don’t blame me if Cade gets distracted and forgets what the word training means tonight.”
I gape, first at the short, pink silk, then back at her. “It’s not like I’m leaving my bedroom in this.”
“Uh-huh. I’ve seen the way the two of you circle each other. It’s less sparring and more mating dance.” She stretches like she’s settling in for a show. “So, what’s the plan? You going to put on jeans that scream I can kick your ass, or a dress that whispers cheers to easy access?”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “You haven’t said a single thing about my mate bond with Cade in days. Why are you suddenly Team…”
“Team RoCa!” she cuts in, eyes lighting up like she’s been waiting to say it aloud.
“Yes, I’m absolutely Team RoCa. And the only reason I’ve kept quiet is because you were too busy not dying.
But now that you’re finally done looking like roadkill, maybe it’s time you stop pretending you don’t know what you have with him. ”
Someone else recently asked me something similar, and it has me wondering…
“Did Iris send you here to spy? Is she hiding behind the door with a fanny pack of snacks and commentary?”
Liz chuckles low in her throat. “Please. Iris would have brought a whole charcuterie board and narrated every outfit choice. I came on my own.”
She’s not wrong about that.
“I’m not sure this is better,” I mutter, heading toward my closet with curved shoulders. “I don’t know what to do about him.”
She gets up and follows me, a pep in her steps. “You don’t need to do anything necessarily. Just don’t keep your walls up. Nature will take care of the rest.”
Or I will, Wolf pipes up.
“My wolf keeps threatening to hump him.” I yank open a drawer, pretending I don’t see the tiny twitch of amusement on Liz’s lips.
“It’s not the worst plan,” she says, inspecting her nails. “But I think an outfit that knocks him on his ass will be enough of a statement for tonight.”
Wolf hums smugly. She’s right. Wear something Cade can’t ignore.
You’re supposed to help me survive, I snap internally. Not play fairy godmother to my love life.
Same thing, Wolf purrs.
“You two are going to be the death of me.” I grab jeans and underwear from the drawer before turning toward the shirts.
But Liz is blocking the way, holding up a forest green top like it’s already decided.
I reach past her for one of my plain tees, but the vampire is quick and snaps it out of my hand like she’s intercepting contraband.
“Jeans are fine,” she concedes, eyeing the pair in my hands. “They make your legs look like you could strangle a man with them, which, honestly, good for you.”
I blink. “Thanks?”
“But this?” She plucks lightly at the cotton tee still on the hanger like it’s an affront to humanity. “It screams ‘high school gym class,’ not ‘pretend informational training session with the shifter you’re obviously in love with.’”
“I am not—”
“Uh-huh.” She cuts me off with the smoothness of someone who’s been shutting people down since birth. “Try this instead.” She tosses the green number at me, something I’m not even sure came from the closet of new clothes I never asked for.
It has a low neckline. Not necessarily scandalous, but enough that little will be left to the imagination.
Maybe that will take the glower out of Cade’s golden eyes, Wolf says with too much excitement.
“I’m not wearing that,” I tell Liz, keeping my arms tight around the robe like it might protect me from her insistence.
“Yes, you are,” she says smugly, shoving it into my arms. “It’s casual enough not to look like date clothes, but sexy enough to make him sweat.”
Wolf all but howls her approval. You can’t hide your desire for this moment from me. You know you want to wear it.
“I hate both of you,” I mutter as I get a better hold of the shirt. The fabric is soft under my fingers, and the color is dangerously flattering against my skin tone.
Wolf is right.
There’s a part of me that’s eager to know what he wants to discuss tonight instead of continuing to bruise my body.
I also haven’t been able to get the way he cared for me after the wolf attack out of my head.
The closeness and tenderness were…everything.
A fact I’ve tried to push down, but the longer I’m around him, the harder that is to do.
“You’ll thank me later.” Liz’s grin sharpens as she sweeps out of the closet, leaving me no room to argue. “Or he will.”
I groan, but the sound isn’t half as miserable as I expect. More like a reluctant admission that maybe—just maybe—she’s right.
I pull the outfit on quickly, tugging the silky top over my head before I lose my nerve. The fabric slides across my skin like it was spun just for me, and when I turn toward the mirror, a grin sneaks across my lips. It can’t be helped.
Liz was right.
I look good. Dangerously good.
Even with my hair tumbling in natural waves around my shoulders and my face bare of makeup, my skin glows, my eyes catch the light in a way that feels almost supernatural.
For one dizzying second, I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me.
She looks like someone who belongs in this world.
Like someone who could actually be something.
Liz peeks in and places a hand over her chest as she gushes. “You’re coming into your own, Rowan Prescott. Your mother would be so proud of you right now.”
Her words hit like an arrow—sharp with grief but glowing with warmth. My throat tightens, and I blink rapidly to hold the tears at bay. It isn’t Liz’s fault that this sorrow likes to sneak up on me when I least expect it. Still, the reminder is a blade I’m not quite armored against.
I manage a shaky smile, hoping she won’t notice how close I am to falling apart.
“Toss on the black flats,” she instructs briskly, rescuing me from the spiral. “It’ll keep things casual…ish.”
I snort. “At least you’re not throwing heels at me.”
“Please. I want you to be able to walk up to him, not topple into his arms. Wait…” Her smirk deepens. “That could work, too.”
I shove my feet into the flats when a knock rattles the door. My stomach clenches instantly, twisting into knots.
He’s here.
The knock comes again—firmer this time, like Cade has already decided patience is optional.
Liz smirks like the devil herself and flutters her fingers at me. “Enjoy your evening, sugarplum.” She slips toward the door, clearly planning to open it for him, but I dart forward and beat her there.
“Goodbye, Liz,” I hiss, shoving her gently into the hall.
She chuckles all the way down the corridor, muttering something about “Team RoCa forever.”
Taking a steadying breath, I pull the door further open to greet Cade.
And there he is.
Cade Westin in all his broody, golden-eyed glory, standing stiff-backed in a black shirt that stretches across his chest like it was personally tailored by the gods, just for him. His jaw ticks when his gaze sweeps over me, lingering just long enough on the silky top that heat prickles my skin.
“You’re ready,” he says, voice low and clipped, but there’s a roughness underneath that betrays him.
“Observant as always.” My hand flutters in a little ta-da motion before I can stop it. “Should I spin for your approval?”
His mouth almost curves, but then he steps closer, filling the doorway. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Do you?”
I roll my eyes. “Your approval? Definitely not necessary for me. Just be thankful you didn’t come ten minutes ago like Liz did when I was only wearing a robe.”
The sharp inhale he takes makes me instantly regret mentioning my previous attire. But it also makes me glad Liz chose this top for me. Especially when his heated gaze lingers longer over my chest than usual.
My stomach does a ridiculous flip, and for a moment, the air between us feels like it might combust.
He clears his throat, offering me his arm in an old-fashioned, unexpectedly formal gesture. “Shall we?”
I arch a brow, hesitant to touch him with my emotions rampant already. “What is this, a date or a duel?”
“Depends on how the night goes.” His gaze catches the low light, glinting like molten metal.
Shifter shits.
I might actually be in way over my head here.
As my bedroom door clicks shut behind us, I can’t decide if I’m walking into an evening of answers or setting myself up to be completely undone.