47. Annalise
Chapter forty-seven
Annalise
“Miss Corvin, you're late, and you’ve come unprepared," Hunter calls over the echo of steel crashing against steel as Delta Company fights. "If you can't be bothered to show up on time and ready to fight, then why am I wasting my time helping you catch up on your missed classes?"
Fighting my every instinct to roll my eyes, I paste on the fakest smile I can muster.
"Sorry, Sir, I got caught up in riding class."
“Ah, right.” A slow, knowing grin pulls at his mouth. “Delta Company—stop what you’re doing and give Recruit Corvin a round of applause.”
The recruits freeze, looking just as confused as I am, but still, their swords drop and one by one, they break into a slow, scattered clap.
I stand there, smiling through gritted teeth, as I contemplate what it would take to frame his murder as another “bear” attack.
“Miss Corvin here not only bonded early, but she bonded an Alpha.” Hunter paces slowly in front of the recruits, his voice carrying easily across the now silent training yard. “And it seems she’s already started absorbing his entitlement.”
A few nervous chuckles ripple through the arena.
He stops, turning to face me fully, a smug smile tugging at his mouth.
“Because apparently, bonding an Alpha means you’re above showing up on time for your required make-up Combat sessions.”
His gaze locks on mine in challenge, but by now, he should know better.
If this is how he wants to play it, then I’m more than ready.
"I understand that you're busy now, Captain Korr," I say, slowly walking towards Delta Company and letting my hips sway a little more than necessary. "Maybe I can pair up with one of your recruits?"
Korr shoots me a glare, and I can practically hear him warning me not to do what I’m about to do—but all I see is the challenge he threw the second he called me out.
"Theo, any chance you’d help work me out?” I ask, knowing full well Hunter's been annoyed with him for months.
"Absolutely," he beams, grabbing his blade from where it’d been dropped on the ground and walking toward me without a care for the actual partner he's leaving behind.
"Stevens, get back to your partner. Now! Miss Corvin, we'll be discussing your interruption after class, but I want interval sprints around the room until you’re sweating."
I fight the smile threatening to surface, knowing exactly what this is—his way of apologizing for making me skip my morning run.
"Thanks, but you should know it takes more than a run to do that," I whisper, brushing past him to my spot on the wall.
Refusing to run in my full riding uniform, I peel it off piece by piece until I’m standing in nothing but my sports bra and riding pants.
The long whistles don’t escape me—nor do the hungry stares that follow every movement—as I work through a quick stretch before popping in an earbud and start running at an even tempo.
One lap around the arena turns into two, then three, then five. Everyone around me is long gone—the sound of my shoes on the rubber flooring pulling me back to my last day working in South Hollow.
Flashback
The day had been going so smoothly—an energetic group in my Intro to Pole Dancing class, my usual long walk with sweet old Mr. Brooks, who never missed a day at the gym because he couldn’t stand walking alone since his wife passed away, and a string of personal training clients who were all making solid progress.
When my last client of the day cancelled, I was damn near giddy, hurrying to the indoor track for a quick warm-up run before my kickboxing class arrived.
I was still grinning to myself as I rounded the corner of the track—enjoying the rare gift of an empty thirty minutes and the steady burn already building in my legs—when someone bumped into my side.
Turning, ready to apologize for not paying attention I found a tall, dark-haired guy around my age grinning back at me with a crooked smile. This was definitely the hottie Rachel had seen touring the gym last week.
His mouth opened, and only then did I realize my music has been playing over whatever he’d been trying to say to me.
“Sorry—what was that?” I had asked, pulling my headphones out, but not slowing down. That was my time, so if he wanted to talk, he’ll have to keep up.
“You’re Annalise, right?”
“Depends. Are you about to complain about my boxing playlist? Because it’s not my fault if you can’t keep up with Ashes by Steller. You’ll get there with some practice.”
He laughed.
“No. Actually…”
Before I could guess where the conversation was going, he pressed a folded piece of paper into my palm. His fingers lingering just long enough to make the intent painfully obvious.
“I've been trying to catch you all week,” he said.
Looking down, I'd instantly spotted ‘Chase from the gym’ and a ten-digit number scribbled across the page.
When I glanced back up, he was already jogging backward down the hall, grin somehow getting even wider.
“Text me.”
I opened my mouth, not entirely sure what to say, when he'd cupped his hands around his mouth and called back—
“You better not keep me waiting any longer, Corvin.”
I blink.
Wait—what? That’s not right.
“Corvin!” the voice is deeper now. Rougher. Familiar enough to make every muscle in my body relax.
My head snaps to the middle of the arena where Korr is impatiently waiting, two training blades glinting in his hands. His expression is unimpressed and impatient…and I’m afraid to ask just how long he’s been trying to get my attention.
"Come on, Corvin. You're with me," he says, passing me a blade when I approach.
Slipping into fighting position as easily as we did during training sessions at his house, our footing mirroring each other’s in a way that would have raised questions if everyone didn’t already believe Dean Stevens had “assigned” these makeup lessons.
A few months ago, he would have had me on my ass almost instantly, but I've practiced with him and Matt enough since the attack to know how he thinks.
Still confident from my run, I don’t hesitate to take the first strike, something Hunter clearly isn’t expecting, though he recovers just as my blade connects with his shoulder.
Rolling it out once to shake off the light sting, he spins the blade in his hand like it weighs nothing. His eyes—focused, and entirely too amused—drag slowly over me.
“Again.”
I grit my teeth and come at him harder this time, leading with a quick feint to his ribs before pivoting high for his shoulder.
Steel cracks against steel as he parries both without giving up an inch.
“You’re being predictable again.”
“And you’re being an asshole,” I murmur. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous."
“Jealous? No, love, this isn’t jealousy.
I am furious. I am possessive. I am barely holding myself together after watching that boy put his hands on you multiple times when you were never his to touch.
” He leans closer, lips brushing against my ear.
“So, no, Love. I’m not jealous. I’m downright fucking murderous. ”
Hunter’s grin only widens as he starts pressing me across the mat, his strikes sharp, controlled, and so him. Left. Right. High. Low.
But I hold with everything I have.
Pivot. Block. Retreat. Parry. Every lesson from him, every bruise from Matt, every frustrating afternoon behind his house is finally paying off.
Well, sort of.
I don’t land another clean hit—not even close, but I don’t go down either. I don’t drop my blade, and I definitely don’t hand him a single easy opening.
Our weapons slam into a brutal bind, my shoes skidding against the mat as I fight to hold my ground.
“Better,” he says approvingly, just as the bell rings signaling the end of class.
Watching him lower his sword, my eyes catch on the glistening sweat running down his muscles before a taunting ‘tsk, tsk’ pulls my attention back to his face.
A slow, wicked smile curves his mouth before he rolls his shoulders, mask of pissed-off instructor sliding back into place.
“Careful, Seiri,” his dark eyes lock on mine, “keep looking at me like that, and I might forget where we are and punish you for that little stunt you pulled.”
“Is that a promise, Sir?” I ask sweetly, watching the last Delta recruit disappear through the gym doors.
His jaw tightens, dark gaze dragging over me slow enough to make my pulse kick.
“Locker rooms. Now. You have ten minutes.”
A grin tugs at my lips as I walk toward the women’s locker rooms, “Aw…so disappointing. I thought you liked a challenge.”
“Oh, I love a challenge, Seiri, I’m just giving you ten minutes to get over how it felt losing to me back there. Can’t have you crying in there all night.”
Without breaking stride, I throw my middle finger up at him.
His low, dangerous chuckle echoes through the now-empty arena, all the confirmation I need that he saw it as I push the locker room door open.