I remember the one moment that defined my time as my soldiers’ commander. It was early, the sun’s first rays peeking over the high stone walls of our base and the morning mist lingering on the training grounds. As usual, I greeted my soldiers with a firm, “Good morning,” but Joren, a recruit with a mouth bigger than his balls or his brain, couldn’t resist the chance to take his shot.
“Sergeant Ársa, I’m having some trouble with my morning wood. Would you have a look? That would definitely make it a good morning.” His grin was wide enough to split his face, like he’d forgotten who he was talking to. The group burst into loud laughter, exchanging glances that only fueled each other’s egos.
Joren’s idiotic grin didn’t waver as I marched right up to him, but when I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him so close our noses almost touched, the shock in his eyes was beautiful.
I hissed, “I’ll cut it off if that’s what it takes to shut you up.”
The laughter died instantly, replaced by a tense silence. I didn’t let go of him right away. Instead, I held him there, eyes on his, making sure the lesson sank in. My grip tightened, and I could feel his heart beating fast.
When I finally let go, he stumbled back, eyes wide. From that moment on, none of them dared to talk back to me again. I had made my point. I was their commander, and they would follow my lead, no matter how hard it was for them to follow a woman.
In the end, it wasn’t only about earning their respect, it was about showing them that I belonged just as much as any of them. I made sure they understood that, while I might be different, I was someone they could rely on. And eventually, they did. We became a unit, a team, and the memory of that morning became a story they shared with new recruits, a reminder of the line they’d never dare to cross again.
With a smile, I wash myself as the leaf spirits jump on a rock near me.
I pause with my hands resting on my inner thighs, feeling the cold water travel over my shoulders. My skin is flushed, and a strange heat creeps up my neck. I’ve never really taken the time to look at myself like this, never had a reason to. My life in Tárnov was one of duty and discipline. I never let men court me, never felt the need to entertain their advances.
Mother always said there were more important things than men.
She wasn’t harsh about it, no, she was always matter-of-fact, as if her words were a simple truth I’d eventually come to accept. And I did, until now.
“You don’t need the distractions of men, Noël,” she would say whenever the topic of courtship came up. “Your life is meant for more than that.”
At the time, it made sense. My life was different from the other girls in the village. While they spent their days fussing over gowns and braiding their hair to attract a wealthier man, I was training, learning to lead, pushing myself to be stronger. To some degree, it felt right to stay focused rather than waste time on love like everyone else. “Romance will only weaken you,” she’d say. “You have no need for it.”
I believed her. But now, looking back, I wonder if there was more to it. Why was she always so intent on keeping me isolated? Why did she tear up every letter or gift I received frommen in the village? Why did she burn them without ever showing me, as if she wanted to erase any sign of them from my life?
I walked into the kitchen once to find her crouched by the fireplace, tossing another letter into the flames. When I asked her about it, she brushed it off with a smile. “It was nothing, Noël,” she said. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
But why did she do that? Why was she so intent on keeping me from any sort of connection? I never understood, and I still don’t.
And now, here I am, standing in the forest, washing away the dirt of a life I don’t recognize anymore. I need to stop thinking about it, at least for now.
I scrub my abs and grab a few more leaves because the ones I had have gone soggy. As I take a step out of the water, I feel a wetness between my thighs that I can’t blame on the stream.What is wrong with you, Noël? Just stop!
Grunting, I scoop some water into my palm and wash between my folds. I’m so sensitive, and I don’t understand what’s happening to me.
That stupid vólkin! There’s no such thing as a mate bond, and I don’t care that he grew blue roses out of nowhere. It means nothing! Tomorrow, he’ll grow peonies and confess to another woman.
I turn around to look at him. Still standing tall, with all those muscles.
It scares me. I’ve never let anyone get this close before, never let anyone tend to me, never let anyone make me feel... like this.
I bite my lip. It’s only because I’ve never experienced this before. That’s why I’m so affected. That’s all it is.
Isn’t it?
But his cock . . . He’s saying I’m his mate. Does he plan to . . .
Oh goddesses above, what am I thinking?
My cheeks flamed when I saw Theron’s massive shaft. It’s so... big. The thought of it makes my cheeks burn again. There’s a strange tightening sensation in my chest as I run my hands over my skin, tracing the muscles of my body, and for the first time, I feel aware—aware of the way my body reacts, the way my heart races.
I huff out an exhale.
It’s just curiosity, stupid girl. Just because I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he does, never felt a man’s presence so acutely, it doesn’t mean anything.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I shake my head. This isn’t me. I’ve never wanted this before. I’ve never even thought about it.
