Chapter Five

The morning air is crisp, carrying the sharp bite of early frost. Sarah has us running perimeter drills today, full laps around the clearing at a punishing pace, then straight into sparring. My lungs burn by the third lap, but I keep going. I’ve learned the hard way that stopping isn’t an option here.

Jace and Cole are ahead, laughing as they shoulder each other like overgrown pups. I’m trailing, but not by much. My legs feel stronger than they did yesterday. The fog from the suppressants is finally lifting, and my wolf is starting to stretch inside me, restless, eager, testing the edges of control.

We finish the last lap and drop into the circle for paired combat. Sarah pairs me with Jace again. He’s grinning like he’s already won.

“Ready to eat dirt, Thorne?”

I wipe sweat from my brow. “Ready to make you eat yours.”

Sarah calls start.

Jace comes in fast, too fast for someone who’s been running for twenty minutes. He feints high, then drops low for a leg sweep. I see it coming this time. I jump, twist mid-air, and drive my knee toward his ribs. He blocks, but the impact jars us both. We grapple, locked together, breathing hard.

He tries to flip me. I hook my leg behind his and push with everything I have.

We go down together...hard.

My ankle twists under me as we hit the ground. Pain lances up my leg, sharp and bright. I hiss through my teeth, rolling away before Jace can pin me.

“Shit—sorry,” he says, scrambling up. “You okay?”

I push to my feet, testing weight on the ankle. It holds, but it throbs like hell. “Fine.”

Sarah strides over, frowning. “Walk it off. If it swells, you’re done for the day.”

I nod, limping a few steps. The pain isn’t crippling, but it’s enough to make me grit my teeth. I hate looking weak. Not here. Not in front of them.

That’s when Darius appears.

He’s been watching from the tree line again, same spot, same crossed arms, same storm-gray eyes tracking every move. Now he’s moving toward us, long strides eating up the distance.

Sarah glances at him. “She twisted it. Nothing broken.”

Darius doesn’t answer her. His gaze locks on me. “You’re limping.”

“It’s fine,” I say through clenched teeth.

He stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Bullshit.”

Before I can argue, he bends, hooks one arm behind my knees, and the other around my back, and lifts me like I weigh nothing.

I yelp...actually yelp, and grab his shoulders on instinct. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting you to Sarah before you make it worse.” His voice is gruff, but his hold is careful, almost gentle. One massive hand cradles the back of my thigh; the other supports my spine. My chest is pressed to his, my face inches from the column of his throat.

I can feel every beat of his heart against my ribs.

The contact is electric.

Heat pours off him, seeping through my thin shirt. His scent wraps around me, pine, leather, smoke, and something darker, something primal that makes my wolf whine low in my chest. My fingers dig into his shoulders without meaning to. Solid muscle shifts under my palms. His breath brushes my temple when he turns his head slightly.

“Stop squirming,” he mutters.

“I can walk,” I protest, even as my body betrays me, relaxing into his hold like it recognizes safety.

“No. You can’t.”

He starts walking toward the lodge. Every step jolts me against him. My thigh slides along his forearm. My breasts press into his chest with each breath. I can feel the restrained tension in his body, the way his grip tightens fractionally when I shift, the way his jaw clenches when my hair brushes his neck.

It’s not gentle. It’s barely restrained.

And gods help me, I feel it too.

My skin prickles everywhere we touch. Heat pools low in my belly, uninvited and insistent. My wolf presses closer to the surface, drawn to his alpha presence like iron to a magnet. I force her down, clenching my teeth against the sudden, aching want.

This is dangerous.

He carries me up the steps, through the door, straight to the small infirmary at the back of the lodge. Elder Sarah is already there, laying out supplies on a low table.

“Set her down,” she says, not looking surprised.

Darius lowers me carefully onto the padded bench. His hands linger a second longer than necessary, one on my waist, the other sliding down my calf to my ankle. The touch burns. When he finally lets go, I feel the absence like a physical thing.

Sarah kneels in front of me, probing the ankle with gentle fingers. “Swollen, but not broken. Twisted ligament. Ice it, wrap it, stay off it for a day or two.”

I nod, trying to focus on her words instead of the man standing two feet away, arms crossed, watching me like I might vanish if he blinks.

Sarah glances up at him. “You can go, Darius. I’ve got her.”

He doesn’t move.

She sighs, then turns back to me. “You’re healing faster than a human would. Suppressants wearing off?”

My stomach drops. “I’m not.....”

“Don’t lie to me, child.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “I’ve treated enough omegas to know the signs. The fatigue, the slow reflexes, the way your scent is starting to sharpen again. You’ve been muting yourself for a while.”

I swallow. “I’m a beta.”

Sarah’s eyes flick to mine, knowing, patient. “If you say so.”

She doesn’t push. Just reaches for a jar of salve and starts rubbing it into the swollen joint. The cool relief is immediate, but my mind is racing.

Darius is still there. Silent. Watching.

Sarah finishes wrapping the ankle, ties it off, and stands. “Rest. No training tomorrow. I’ll check it in the morning.” She looks at Darius. “Make sure she stays put.”

He grunts.

Sarah leaves us alone.

The silence is thick.

I shift on the bench, wincing as the movement pulls at the wrap. “You didn’t have to carry me.”

“You were limping.”

“I’ve limped before.”

His eyes darken. “Not here.”

Something in his tone makes my breath catch. Not anger. Not exactly. Protectiveness, maybe. Or something closer to possession.

He steps closer. Closer than he needs to be.

I don’t move away.

He reaches out, slow, deliberate, and brushes a strand of sweat-damp hair from my cheek. His fingertips graze my skin, rough from years of fighting, but the touch is almost gentle. My pulse hammers in my throat.

“You’re stubborn,” he says quietly.

“So I’ve been told.”

His thumb lingers on my cheekbone, tracing the faint bruise from yesterday’s training. “You don’t have to prove everything alone.”

I meet his gaze. Storm-gray eyes, intense and unguarded for the first time. No hostility. Just curiosity. And heat.

“I’m not used to help,” I admit.

His hand drops to my jaw, cupping it lightly. The pad of his thumb brushes the corner of my mouth. My lips part on a shaky breath.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says, voice low and rough.

For a heartbeat, I think he might kiss me.

I think I might let him.

Then he pulls back abruptly, like he’s burned himself. His hand falls away. He steps back, jaw tight, eyes shadowed.

“Rest,” he says, turning toward the door.

“Darius....”

He pauses, doesn’t look back.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “For carrying me.”

He nods once, sharp, controlled.

Then he’s gone.

The door closes with a quiet click.

I sit there, heart racing, skin still tingling where he touched me.

The ankle throbs, but it’s nothing compared to the ache blooming somewhere deeper.

I lie back on the bench, staring at the ceiling.

My wolf is awake now. Fully awake.

And she wants.

Badly.

I close my eyes and try to breathe through it.

One touch.

One crack in the wall he’s built.

And suddenly everything feels different.

Dangerously different.