I’m not sure I believe him, but I want to—badly. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin beneath my ear, making me shiver.
“We’ll keep working on this, and tomorrow we’ll start measuring what distance you can achieve,” he says, shifting to more practical conversation topics, though his touch remains intimate. “We need to make sure you’re fighting fit if the worse should happen.”
I don’t need to ask what worse might mean; I’ve already foreseen blood and battle.
“Okay.” My easy response seems to please him.
“Good girl.” His praise sends heat pooling between my thighs.
His thumb strokes the skin beneath my ear, and I shiver, the sensation shooting straight down my spine. He leans in again, and this time I meet him halfway, our bodies brushing—his chest against mine—our breaths tangling.
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s both of us. Butsuddenly we’re pressed together, mouths colliding in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger and dangerous desire. His hand tangles in my hair, mine fisting in the fabric at his back.
The bond flares between us, bright and consuming, and I feel his restraint slipping.
Ryker groans, deep in his throat, and abruptly pulls back. His breathing is ragged, eyes blown wide with need.
“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “We keep this up, I’m going to forget we’re still in the training ring.”
I blink, dazed. Lips swollen. Body thrumming.
“Is that a bad thing?”
He grits his teeth. “Are you really ready for me to claim you?”
I swallow, desire now at war with fear.
“That’s what I thought.” He turns away, running a hand over his hair. “Go explore your chambers, Kitara. Examine Cheyenne’s things. Or get one of the wolves to show you around our den.”
“Where will you be?”
Seemingly back in control, he turns full to me. “I have pack business to attend to.”
“Can I come? Can I help?”
He chuckles. “Not yet. I’ve no control around you and more work will be made than achieved.” He brushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Soon, though. I promise.”
His words only slightly soften the blow.
Chapter
Eleven
After the training session, exhaustion and hunger gnaw at me. I follow the mouthwatering scent of food through the winding stone corridors. Unlike the polished formality of my old pack’s dining hall, which is rarely used, this space is bustling and alive with energy. Stone tables of various heights fill the room, with some designated areas designed for wolves who prefer to eat in their animal forms. Torches and crystal formations provide warm, dancing light that create pockets of intimacy despite the hall’s size.
I hesitate at the entrance. In my old pack, mealtimes were taken alone unless during special occasions. When we did have a feast, the eating order was rigidly hierarchical—omegas and “undesirables” like me ate last, often receiving only scraps, while Alpha Varick and his inner sanctum gorged on fresh kills, sweet desserts, and multiple courses perfectly cooked.
Now, all eyes turn to me, conversations hushing. I’m suddenly aware of my status, the Alpha’s mate, marked and claimed, yet still a stranger.
A tall wolf with auburn hair rises from a nearby table andapproaches. His movement is measured, deliberate, his eyes—a striking amber—are assessing but not hostile.
“Alpha Female,” he greets with a slight bow of his head. “I’m Elias, head of security. Second to Lithia.”
“Please, call me Kitara,” I say, feeling awkward in the silence that’s fallen over the hall.
His smile is surprisingly warm. “Of course. Welcome, Kitara.” He gestures toward a raised platform where a single table sits. “The Alpha’s table awaits you.”
The elevated table, carved from dark stone, is set a few steps above the rest of the dining hall. From here, it commands the room. It’s a show of dominance and separation, a visible reminder that the one who sits there leads.
