Jessica’s POV
“You’re holding back.”
Charles’s voice snaps across the training yard, sharp and clean, cutting through the morning air.
I turn, boots scraping over dirt, chest rising too fast.
Sweat slides down my spine, my shirt sticking to my skin.
My body hums, alive in a way it never used to be.
“I’m not,” I say, lifting my chin.
It’s a lie, and we both know it.
He circles me slowly, predator-slow, eyes dark and heavy.
Every step he takes makes my wolf lift her head.
She presses against my ribs, restless, alert, hungry.
The pull between us tightens like a rope drawn too far.
“You are,” he says quietly.
“Your body knows it.”
I brace just as he lunges.
His shoulder slams into mine.
The hit sends a jolt through me, sharp and clean.
I stumble but don’t fall.
My balance holds.
Surprise flashes across his face.
That alone sends a rush of heat through me.
He doesn’t strike again.
He waits.
Watches.
His wolf rolls under his skin, thick and restless.
I feel it answers mine, a low hum that makes my thighs tense.
“Again,” he orders.
I move without thinking.
My elbow catches his ribs.
Solid.
Real.
He grunts.
His hand closes around my wrist mid-motion, iron-hard, dragging me back against his chest.
The world narrows.
Heat floods me fast and fiercely.
My breath catches.
His grip is firm, not cruel, but it leaves no room for doubt.
My back is pressed to him, my body lined up with his strength.
His breath brushes my ear, slow and deep.
“There,” he murmurs.
“That’s it.”
My knees weaken before I can stop them.
He feels it.
“You’re shaking,” he says.
“Not from fear.”
“Let go,” I snap, but my voice breaks at the edge.
“No.”
He shifts us toward the wooden post at the edge of the yard.
His forearm lifts, bracing near my throat—not tight, not choking.
Just there.
A reminder.
My pulse races.
My wolf purrs.
“You feel stronger with me,” he says, low and sure.
“Say it.”
“I won’t.”
His gaze drops, slow, deliberate.
He notices everything—the way my breath stutters, the way my body leans even as my mouth resists.
“Your body lies better than your mouth,” he murmurs.
Heat coils low and sharp, painful and sweet.
My skin feels too tight.
Too aware.
“Stop,” I whisper.
His nose drags along my neck.
He inhales, deep, and the sound he makes is rough—barely controlled.
His hand twitches like he’s fighting himself.
“Fuck,” he growls, stepping back hard, like the space burns.
His fists clench at his sides.
“Do you know what you do to me?”
I swallow.
My wolf presses forward, desperate.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“No,” he says.
“But you keep choosing it.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.
Jude’s voice cuts in from the edge of the yard.
“That’s enough.”
I turn.
He’s watching closely, eyes sharp, hands calm.
Always calm.
“You’re pushing her,” Jude says.
“Too fast.”
“She needs it,” Charles snaps.
“I can decide that,” I say.
Both of them look at me now.
Charles steps forward again, slow, deliberate.
“Then decide.”
Something inside me snaps into place.
I attack.
This time, I don’t hesitate.
I move.
My body listens.
I duck, twist, strike.
Charles meets me, matching every move, testing, pushing.
He lets me hit him—then makes me earn it.
The ground shakes under our feet.
My lungs burn, but I don’t stop.
He freezes.
So does Jude.
My heart pounds as silence falls.
Charles looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
His head tilts slightly, the wolf rising close to the surface.
“You feel it too,” I say, breathless.
“Yes,” he answers.
“You are stronger.”
The air shifts.
Jude inhales slowly.
“Your scent,” he says.
“It’s changing.”
Charles steps closer.
Too close.
His eyes darken fully now.
“You’re waking,” he says.
“And your body is choosing.”
He reaches for me—then stops, hand hovering just short of my skin.
The restraint shakes through him.
“If I touch you now,” he says, voice breaking low, “I won’t stop.”
My heat flares hard, sharp enough to make my knees ache.
I want to close that space.
I want to feel what my body already knows.
Jude steps in fast.
“Charles.”
Charles exhales roughly and turns away.
“Get her out of here.”
Jude places a steady hand at my back, guiding me toward the corridor.
I look over my shoulder once.
Charles is on his knees.
Hands buried in the dirt.
Head bowed.
Fighting himself.
Fear and want twist together in my chest.
As we reach the hall, the torches flicker.
A cold ripple slides down my spine.
Then—
A bell tolls.
Slow.
Wrong.
Jude stiffens.
“They felt it.”
“Felt what?” I ask.
He looks at me.
“Your strength.”
The doors behind us slam shut.
Ahead, shadows gather.
And I understand—
This spar didn’t just change me.
It warned them.