Filed to story: Confirming His Luna by Eyes Novel >>
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.”
“He would be dead before he could lay a hand on you,” Tristan says, and I’m startled by the sudden force behind his words as something brutal hardens his amber eyes.
I believe him.
There’s a warmth pooling somewhere deep within me, and I feel my cheeks flush as he stares at me, unwavering and unyielding.
I sag slightly when he finally looks away.
“Amara is right, though,” he says, shifting the subject. “Most of your opponents will be physically stronger. So, you have to be smarter and faster. Let’s see what you can do.”
We start with the basics, going over the proper posture and showing me how to use my hands to protect my face. I mimic his stance, feeling awkward and uncoordinated in contrast to his graceful movements, an effect I’ve become accustomed to after watching Amara train with me. Like Amara, Tristan is patient, repeating the moves until I get them right.
Then it’s time to put what I’ve learned to practice. I feel my heart rate quicken as we face each other to spar.
“Go on, little flower,” he tells me, a hint of teasing creeping into his voice. “Hit me.”
I lunge forward with a punch, and he effortlessly dodges it.
“Again.”
He shows me how to block his attacks, using my arms to deflect his punches and kicks. In the back of my mind, I can almost hear Amara’s words guiding me.
‘Breathe. You are a feather fighting a brick. You do not bend or break. Flow.’
Tristan throws a punch, and I duck underneath it. I feel a rush of excitement as we circle each other, and I spin around and deliver a swift kick to Tristan’s side. He barely stumbles back, but surprise flashes across his eyes, along with a glint of pride.
“Good.”
We continue to spar, and I’m beginning to understand what Amara meant by using my small size to my advantage. He’s strong and fast, and I know he’s taking it easy on me. But thanks to Amara’s lessons, I’m holding my ground—or rather, darting around it.
It’s a rush, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. As we move around the mat, our heat begins to build between us, and I have to focus to avoid glancing at the glistening sweat on his skin. He moves, and I counter, and it’s a strange sort of dance that makes my insides tight and tingling.
This close, it’s impossible not to notice the way his body moves in response to mine. The way his biceps bulge as he throws a punch, the way his abs ripple as he twists his torso, muscles tightening and shifting beneath his skin. I feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach and nearly lose my footing as I throw a wide punch that he easily sidesteps.
“Easy,” he breathes. “Use your momentum with intention.” He motions for me to come towards him, and I approach him warily, unsure of what he’s going to do next. “Let’s try something a little different.”
He suddenly lunges towards me, and I try to block him with my arms, but he easily pushes me down, and we tumble onto the mat. Before I can gather my bearings, he has me pinned down beneath him, his weight trapping me under his body.
“You good?” he asks quickly, and I nod, surprised by the pang of competitive frustration that stings my pride at being taken down so easily.
Pride.
Since when do I have that?
“Good,” Tristan says with a grin before I can ponder the thought any further. “Now get me off you.”
I struggle to move, feeling his weight bearing down on me.
“We’re not arm wrestling, little flower. You’re trying to use sheer force, and it won’t work.”
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?