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Amara is away with Mark visiting another pack in an effort to maintain the peace. There's been no conflict with the other territories for a few years, but the Rovers aren't exactly popular. Having a pack full of rogues means that other packs are constantly judging and underestimating us. That's why Amara isn't here. That's why, today, I'm in charge of training.
"I'm not as obsessed with punctuality as Amara," I grumble in reply.
She looks stunning in the morning sunlight, her golden hair tied in a messy bun atop her head. Her cheeks are pink and flushed from the chilly early breeze, and her clothes.... her clothes are a fucking torture. Pastel blue leggings that hug every curve, and a matching sports bra that Lucy undoubtedly picked out for her.
As I step onto the wide area covered in mats and workout equipment, I try not to think of the pit in my stomach I felt when I saw the girl's scars. And I certainly don't want to think about the mating bond or the fight between my father and his Beta.
Because the truth is that, even though I fear crumpling the little flower that is now growing in my home, she holds just as much power to destroy me.
Maybe even more.
Chapter Two
"So, where do we begin?"
Tristan watches me from the edge of the veranda, stepping out onto the training floor.
I try not to stare as he takes off his shirt. His tan brown skin looks almost bronze in the sunlight. Every inch of him is toned and taut, his messy brown hair combed back away from his face.
"Did you already warm up?" he asks, and I nod.
Honestly, I had to. I'd arrived early to training this morning, knowing that Tristan would be the one to work with me today. I'd been anxious enough that I started the exercises Amara taught me right away, needing to dispense some of the nervous energy building up inside of me.
Tristan had put some distance between us since that night in the bath, and I couldn't say I blamed him for it. Things between us are… complicated.
But I can't deny that there is a part of me that longs to close that gap between us. It's like something opened up inside of me when he saw my scars and did not turn away, He was, perhaps, the first person in the world who'd ever seen all of me that way. My flaws, my faults, my limitations.
And he had not condemned me for them. Instead, he'd just watched me much as he did now. No one had ever looked at me the way that he did. No one had ever touched me the way that he did.
And the way that he kissed me….
It still kept me up at night.
"Why don't you catch me up?" he says, suddenly drawing my attention back. "What have you been working on with Amara?"
"A lot of strength building. She says my balance is good, and I'm quick on my feet, but I need to work on my endurance."
It's no secret that I'm hardly the picture of good health and fitness. Though my time at the Villa Du Lac has had a significant impact on my body, I am still the smallest among the Rovers.
Scrawny, and without a wolf, I'm at an obvious disadvantage when it comes to defending myself. Which I suppose is precisely why the training is so important.
I was hesitant at first, of course, but Amara was a patient teacher. She knew just when to praise and just how hard to push, and though she could still beat me easily on the mat, she made me feel safe within my own body in a way that I'd never experienced before.
Maybe it's not much, but it is stronger than I've felt in my entire life.
"Amara says I need to learn to trust myself. Apparently, my reflexes aren't bad, but I question myself too much. I hesitate. She said if I want to defend myself, I have to learn to act more and think less," I tell Tristan. "I… I don't exactly have a warrior's instincts."
The corner of Tristan's lips twitch in the echo of a smile, and something flickers across his gaze as he surveys me.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that. I seem to remember a certain brave young woman who defended herself against the unknown with nothing more than a broken champagne glass."
I wince at the memory, recalling how desperate I'd been to fight Oscar off the first time I met Tristan.
"Don't remind me," I say with a sigh. "That wasn't brave. It was stupid. I didn't even know what I was fighting for."
"Freedom," he says softly, an old and tired sort of understanding washing over his expression. "You were trying to fight for your freedom. Besides, not anyone can say they've drawn blood from an Alpha's son."
"You make it sound so grand," I say with a sad little smile. "But that fight would have ended with broken bones. It doesn't matter what my motives were. The truth is, Oscar would have beaten me into the dust for what I did."
