Jessica’s POV
“Say it again.”
Jude’s voice is quiet, but it cuts clean through the room.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just steady, like a blade held close to skin.
“I choose you,” I say.
My voice doesn’t shake this time.
The moment the words leave my mouth, the air shifts.
My wolf lifts her head inside me, alert, sharp, aware that something important has just happened.
I feel it in my bones, in my blood, in the tight pull low in my belly that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with power.
“I want you to train me,” I add.
Silence crashes down.
I don’t turn to look at Charles right away.
I don’t need to.
His presence hits me like heat from an open fire—too close, too strong, pressing into my back until my skin prickles.
My body reacts before I can stop it.
My breath stutters.
My thighs press together.
Jude studies me.
Not my body.
My face.
My eyes.
“You understand what you’re choosing,” he says.
“Yes.”
“You understand this won’t stop what you feel.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Something flickers in his gaze.
Approval, maybe.
Or caution.
Behind me, Charles laughs.
It’s short.
Sharp.
Not amused.
“You think he’s safer?” he says.
I turn then.
His jaw is tight.
His eyes are dark, burning with something that makes my stomach twist.
His hands are clenched at his sides like he’s holding himself back by force alone.
“I think,” I say slowly, “that I need control.”
His brow lifts.
“And you think I don’t offer that?”
“I think,” I continue, keeping my voice even as my wolf paces, “that you don’t know how to stop once you start.”
That hits.
I see it land.
See the flash of something dangerous cross his face.
“You’re afraid of me,” Charles says.
The truth burns my tongue.
“I’m afraid of what I will become around you.”
The room goes very still.
Jude steps forward, just slightly, placing himself between us without touching either of us.
The move is small.
Intentional.
Territorial in its own quiet way.
“Then it’s decided,” he says.
Charles’s head snaps toward him.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Jude doesn’t raise his voice.
He never does.
“She does.”
My wolf hums.
A low sound of pride.
His gaze drags over my face, my neck, my chest, my hips.
He doesn’t touch me, but my body reacts like he already has.
My skin feels too tight.
Too aware.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says.
“Maybe,” I replied.
“But it’s mine.”
His scent spikes—possessive, sharp, heavy with heat.
My breath catches.
Jude notices.
Of course he does.
“Come,” Jude says, turning away.
“Training starts now.”
I hesitate only a second before I follow him.
The training room is stone and shadow.
Cold walls.
No windows.
The kind of place built to strip people down to what they really are.
Jude shuts the door behind us.
The sound echoes.
“Stand there,” he says, pointing to the center.
I step into position.
My boots scuff softly against the floor.
He circles me slowly, hands clasped behind his back.
I feel his eyes on me, not hungry, not judging—measuring.
“Training with me won’t feel good,” Jude says.
“Not at first.”
“I don’t need to be gentle.”
“I know.”
He stops in front of me.
“You won’t like that I don’t touch unless it’s necessary.”
My pulse jumps anyway.
“And I won’t let you hide behind instinct.”
“Good.”
He nods once.
“Close your eyes.”
I do.
“Breathe.”
I will try.
My chest rises and falls, but my body betrays me.
Heat coils low, slow and insistent.
My skin tingles.
My wolf presses forward, restless.
“Feel where it starts,” Jude says.
“Not where it ends.”
A shiver runs through me.
I bite down on a sound.
Then I feel it.
Charles.
On the other side of the door.
Watching.
The knowledge alone makes my knees soften.
My back arches slightly, not on purpose.
Heat flares sharper, deeper.
“Jessica,” Jude says, sharper now.
“Stay with me.”
I still force myself.
“That pull you feel,” he continues, “is power asking to be shaped.
Not fed.”
My breath comes fast.
My hands curl at my sides.
Suddenly—the door slams open.
I gasp.
Charles fills the doorway, eyes dark, scent wild, heat rolling off him like a living thing.
“You’re enjoying this,” he says to Jude.
“Watching her burn.”
Jude doesn’t turn.
“Leave.”
“No.”
The word lands heavy. This story is hosted at g.com.
Charles steps inside.
The room shrinks.
The air thickens.
My wolf snarls softly inside me.
“You chose him,” Charles says to me.
“But your body didn’t.”
He moves closer.
Too close.
I can smell him.
Feel him.
My wolf surges, slamming into my control.
“Don’t,” Jude warns.
Charles stops just short of touching me.
His voice drops low.
“Tell me to go.”
My throat tightens.
Say it, my wolf begs.
Let me have him.
“I—” My voice wavers.
“You’re not my trainer.”
A slow smile curves his mouth.
“No.
I’m your problem.”
Heat crashes through me.
My vision blurs.
My knees buckle.
Jude moves fast.
His hands grip my shoulders—firm, grounding, necessary.
“Focus,” he says.
Charles’s gaze drops to Jude’s hands.
Something feral flashes in his eyes.
“I don’t share,” Charles growls.
“Then don’t,” Jude replies.
“This isn’t yours.”
My body trembles, caught between fire and restraint.
“Enough,” Jude snaps.
“Get out.”
Charles holds my gaze a moment longer.
Something passes between us—promise, threat, hunger.
“This isn’t over,” he says.
The door slams shut.
Silence rushes in.
Jude releases me slowly.
I sway.
He catches me before I fall.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
“I’ve got you.”
My forehead rests briefly against his chest.
Not desire.
Stability.
But my wolf is still awake.
Still burning.
And somewhere beyond these walls, I know Charles is too.
The choice I made has shifted something deep.
And I can already feel the cost closing in.
A howl cuts through the halls—long, sharp, full of challenge.
My wolf answers.