Aria's POV
The training grounds weren't made for people like her.
Not for daughters of enemy Alphas. Not for women bred in silks and strategies. Certainly not for someone who had never wielded power that burned through her veins like wildfire on a stormy night.
But Kael brought her here anyway.
The moon was still low in the sky when she stepped onto the sand-covered stone ring. Her body was sore. Her fingers were wrapped in bandages from the last lesson, and her head ached with the memory of power she didn't understand.
"You're early," Kael said, stepping out of the shadows. He wasn't wearing armor—just a dark tunic, boots, and his usual leather wrist cuffs. The sight of him, wild and grounded, made something traitorous flutter in her chest.
"I couldn't sleep."
"You haven't slept well in days."
Aria shrugged. "Hard to sleep when your bloodline might be cursed and people are sending shadow demons to murder you."
He tilted his head. "Valid."
She rolled her eyes.
But something in her softened when she looked at him. This version of Kael—quiet, controlled, sharp—was not the same Alpha the world saw in court. This was the man who held her through the night without asking questions. The man who let her break, and didn't run when she bled starlight from her fingers.
The man who kissed her like she was the only truth he had left.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," she replied honestly. "But let's do it anyway."
---
The training began brutally.
Kael didn't go easy on her—not physically, not magically.
He started with footwork, forcing her to learn how to move without wasting energy. Then came daggers. Then short swords. Then hand-to-hand. Every step, every form, was drilled until sweat soaked her clothes and her muscles trembled.
"You're stiff," he said during one sparring round.
"I'm tired."
"You're distracted."
"I'm human."
"You're not," he said sharply. "Not anymore."
She stopped. Lowered the training blade. "So what am I, then? A weapon? A prophecy? A means to your political salvation?"
He stepped closer, eyes blazing. "You're mine."
A pause.
"And that's the most dangerous thing you could ever be."
Her breath caught.
He walked away before she could answer.
---
Later that evening, she found herself alone in the training chamber, practicing the magical exercise Kael had shown her—drawing energy inward, holding it, then pushing it outward in a controlled wave.
Except hers refused to cooperate.
Every time she focused, her power surged erratically—like a river trying to burst through a crumbling dam.
Then suddenly—
A voice from behind: "You always had a temper when you couldn't win."
She turned fast.
And froze.
Damon.
Her childhood friend. Her once-betrothed. Her pack's second-in-command. Her father's right hand.
He stood there, dressed like a traveler, dust on his boots, eyes as dark as the day she last saw him—when her father threw her into exile and war.
"Damon," she breathed.
"You look different," he said, stepping forward. "Stronger. Wilder."
"You shouldn't be here."
"And yet, here I am."
He looked around the chamber, frowning. "This isn't your place, Aria. It never was."
She crossed her arms. "It is now."
"No. You belong with your people. With your real pack."
"My real pack," she said coldly, "left me to rot."
His jaw clenched. "I didn't."
She turned away. "Doesn't matter."
"I came to warn you."
Now that got her attention.
He walked closer, dropping his voice. "Your father is building something. He's calling on the old bloodlines. He's planning to take you back—by force. And if Kael tries to stop him…"
Aria's blood ran cold.
"He'll kill him," Damon finished.
---
Kael's POV
He felt it before the door even opened—the shift in Aria's scent, the tremble of magic in her aura, the raw, biting fear she carried like a hidden blade.
He turned from his war maps just as she entered his study.
"What is it?"
She didn't speak at first. She walked straight to the window, staring at the darkening sky.
Then—softly—"He's coming."
Kael moved behind her. "Who?"
"My father."
The words barely came out. "He wants me back. Damon came to warn me."
Kael's wolf surged.
"He sent Damon?"
"No. Damon came alone. I think."
Kael watched her carefully. "And do you trust him?"
"I used to." She looked at him then. "I don't know what to trust anymore."
A silence settled between them, thick with tension and unsaid truths.
Then, voice shaking, she whispered, "What if I'm not worth this, Kael? What if all I bring is fire and death and—"
He was in front of her before she could finish.
He grabbed her hands—still trembling with the hint of power—and pressed them to his chest.
"Then I'll burn beside you."
Her lips parted.
"I don't want to be your enemy," she whispered.
"You're not," he said, voice rough. "You're the reason I haven't given in to the monster inside me."
"Then stop pushing me away."
A heartbeat passed.
And then he kissed her.
Not gently.
Not softly.
But like a man claiming something he'd been denied too long.
And she let him.