Chapter 10 #3
Even from thirty feet away, I catch her scent. The bond pulls at me as physically as a rope around my ribs. The primal part of me surges, and I have to lock my knees to stay put.
Violet stands at the edge of the training grounds in simple black leggings and a tank top that shows her arms, her shoulders, the curve of her waist. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail that sways slightly every time she moves. She looks small compared to the shifters around her. Vulnerable.
Beautiful.
Everything inside me demands I go to her. I force my boots to stay planted in the dirt.
She’s scanning the crowd, looking for familiar faces. Her eyes pass over me without stopping, without acknowledgment, and a knife twists in my chest.
Anne waves to Violet from across the field. Sienna is beside her. Violet moves toward them, and I tell myself to look away before I do something stupid like follow her.
“Alright, everyone. Pair off!” Ethan calls out. “We’re starting with basic grappling. Find a partner from your own pack who is close to your skill level.”
I watch from the sidelines as people pair up. Violet stands there alone while everyone else finds partners.
Out of nowhere, Rachel approaches her, wearing that predatory smirk I’ve seen when she’s about to make someone’s life hell.
No. No, no, no.
“Need someone?” Rachel’s voice carries across the field, sweet and mocking.
Every muscle in my body tenses. I take a step forward before Ethan’s hand lands on my shoulder.
“Don’t,” he murmurs. “Let her handle it.”
“Rachel will destroy her.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’ll be surprised.”
They move to a training mat. Rachel circles Violet like a predator, her movements fluid and confident. It takes everything I’ve got not to intervene. Not to stop this before it even starts.
But I stay rooted in place, fists clenched so tightly that my nails dig deeper into my broken skin. Jaw locked. Wolf howling inside my chest.
Rachel lunges. Fast. Using her shifter speed to advance on my mate.
Violet sidesteps. Just one motion, smooth and controlled. She catches Rachel’s wrist mid-swing. Twists. Uses her attacker’s momentum against her.
Rachel goes down hard.
The watching wolves fall silent.
I can’t breathe. Can’t process what I just saw.
Violet offers Rachel her hand. “Good try.”
Rachel slaps it away and scrambles to her feet on her own, her expression darkening with humiliation and rage.
Pride explodes through me. Hot and fierce and overwhelming pride. My wolf preens inside me, practically vibrating with satisfaction. That’s our mate. Strong. Skilled. Perfect.
Rachel comes at her again, actually trying this time, and suddenly, possessive rage floods through me. Other males are looking. Watching my mate fight. Assessing her as she moves with grace and precision. Their eyes are on what’s mine.
I force myself to stay still. Force myself to breathe through the violence building in my chest.
Violet blocks Rachel’s strikes. Deflects her grabs. Stays just out of reach when Rachel tries to use her weight advantage.
Where the hell did Violet learn to fight like this?
The crowd grows. More wolves stop to watch. And with all these eyes on her, I become more agitated. More possessive. More desperate to eliminate the threat of all these males gaping at her, wanting her, thinking they have any right…
Rachel charges again. Violet drops low, catches her arm, and sends her flying over her shoulder.
Rachel hits the mat with a thud that echoes.
Pride wars with the possessive fury in my chest. Violet is magnificent. But she’s drawing attention. She’s ours, but everyone is looking at her—and that makes me want to get her out of here, away from them, somewhere safe where…
“Holy shit!” Anne’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
Ethan appears beside Rachel, calling the match. Violet stands there, barely even panting, and I can’t look away. Seeing every detail. The flush on her cheeks. The shine of sweat on her skin, making it glow. The way her chest heaves with each breath, her tank top clinging to her.
Her eyes meet mine across the training ground.
I see the moment she registers my expression. Whatever she sees there makes her go still. Causes a certain look to cross her face—confusion, maybe. Or recognition of something she doesn’t understand.
Heat floods through me. My vision sharpens. I can see the pulse hammering in her throat from here, can smell the adrenaline and endorphins flooding her system.
Before I can move, before I can do anything stupid, Ryker Laurent steps into my line of sight.
Rage explodes inside my head.
His voice carries across the field as he talks to Violet. I can’t hear the exact words, but I see his smile. I see the way he looks at her like she’s something he wants.
Like he has any fucking right.
The wolf inside me slams against my control so hard, I stagger back a step.
Ethan’s voice cuts through my focus: “Everyone switch partners! Ravenhood with Moonvale this round!”
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
But Ryker is already leading Violet to a new sparring area, and I’m trapped on the sidelines, watching my mate pair up with another alpha’s son, one who has had his sights set on her ever since she corrected him during that presentation.
“Relax,” Ethan mutters as he appears beside me again. “Just breathe through it.”
I can’t. Because Ryker is demonstrating a hold with one hand on Violet’s waist, and my vision is tunneling to that single point of contact.
They start sparring. Ryker is skilled, I’ll give him that. His movements are precise and controlled. But there’s something in the way he touches her that makes my skin crawl.
His hands linger. Slide across her waist when they grapple. Hold her closer than necessary when demonstrating techniques.
The howling in my head intensifies. It’s constant and deafening. Demanding we intervene.
Not yet. Keep control. Just a little longer.
They reset for another round. Ryker pulls her close, both hands on her hips now. Lower than they should be. Too low. His fingers spreading across her body in a way that has nothing to do with sparring.
I watch her face and notice the discomfort flashing across her features. I see her try to step back, but Ryker tightens his grip. Doesn’t let go.
My eyes home in on individual beads of sweat on Ryker’s forehead, count the threads in Violet’s tank top where his fingers dig in. Colors brighten to painful intensity. The urge to shift presses against my skin like a living thing trying to claw its way out.
My nails dig into my palms yet again. I feel the blood as the wounds reopen, the scent of it sharp and metallic, mixing with dirt and sweat and her scent carried on the wind.
Ethan says something. I don’t hear him. Can’t hear anything except the roar in my head, the rush of blood pounding through my veins, the single thought screaming louder than everything else: Get him away from her!
My control shatters.
I’m moving before the decision registers. Before thought catches up to action. My feet eat up the distance in seconds that feel like hours.
I reach them, and my hand closes on Ryker’s arm, ripping him away from Violet with enough force that he stumbles backward and falls.
Red fills my vision. My feral self is fully present now, demanding blood, demanding punishment for touching what’s ours.
I lift Ryker partially off the ground, my hands fisting in his shirt. His eyes go wide with shock and what I can only assume is fear.
Good. He should be afraid.
“Darius!” Ethan’s voice, somewhere distant. “Stand down!”
I don’t heed him. I slam Ryker down onto the training mat hard. Feel the impact reverberate up my arms. Feel the satisfaction of it in my bones.
Not enough. Not nearly enough. He touched her. He held her when she wanted to pull away. He—
“Darius, stop!”
Her voice. Violet’s voice cutting through the red haze like a blade. I freeze, one hand still gripping Ryker’s shirt. My body still coiled to strike again.
But her voice stops me.
“Please.”
This time, it’s quieter. More desperate. I look at her and see the alarm on her face. The confusion. The fear.
Fear of me.
Reality crashes down like ice water.
The entire training ground has gone silent. Everyone staring. Ethan white-faced beside me. Ryker on the ground, chest heaving. And Violet looking at me like she doesn’t recognize me.
My hands release Ryker’s shirt as if it is burning me.
I stand abruptly. Take a step back. Then another.
What did I just do?
I attacked an allied alpha’s son. In front of both our packs. Over my stepsister.
The whispering starts, hushed and shocked and spreading like wildfire.
I can’t stay here. Can’t face the questions. Can’t look at Violet’s face and see that fear of me.
I turn and walk away. Each step feels wrong. My wolf howls inside me, clawing at my chest, demanding we go back to her.
But I can’t. Because the look on her face, that fear…That is what happens when I lose control. When I let the truth show.
She’s better off without me.
The lie burns, but I force my feet to keep moving. Away from the training ground. Away from the whispers. Away from her.