Page 47 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

Zayn’s hand finds mine, his grip reassuring. “You’re not a burden, Cleo,” he says firmly. “If you want, you can come work for me or just stay at home until you figure out what you want to do. You have options.”

His words are meant to comfort, however all they do is remind me how completely my world has tipped on its axis.

We drive in silence, the hum of the engine a soothing background sound to the chaos of my thoughts.

Once back on pack territory, Zayn drives past the packhouse and pulls up at a massive oval field, dotted with figures moving in synchronized patterns—his pack training.

“I’ll be back,” he says, stepping out. “Just need to drop off this patrol roster for Andrea to give out.”

I nod as he climbs out of the car and heads to his pack. My gaze flits across the field where his pack spar and sprint, their forms a blur of power and grace. When Zayn returns, I can’t contain my curiosity.

“Why aren’t they training in the city?” I ask.

“Because I won’t risk exposing my pack to other packs right now,” he explains. “Not until things settle down.”

“Shouldn’t you be training with them?”

“You’re still getting comfortable with all of this, so we’ll train back home until you’re comfortable training with the rest of the pack.”

As we drive back to the packhouse, I’m acutely aware of the man beside me—his presence has been constant lately. His scent envelopes me, a mix of sandalwood and something that is uniquely Zayn, grounding me in the here and now.

“Thank you,” I murmur, unsure of how else to express the gratitude and tumultuous emotions churning within me.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies with a wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ve got a lot of training to do, and I won’t go easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” I respond, the corners of my mouth lifting in spite of the situation.

The engine purrs to a stop and the world outside Zayn’s car fades as we pull into the packhouse grounds. The familiar sight of towering trees and a sprawling house greets me, but this time, it feels different. It’s not just a place I’m visiting; it’s my new home.

My heart thrums in my chest as Zayn leads me inside. The door shuts with a soft click behind me.

“Go get changed; Andrea dropped clothes over before I left to find you. They are in the walk-in closet.” Zayn’s voice is a calm command that somehow makes the chaos inside me still for a moment. I nod once and he wanders into the living room.

In the privacy of Zayn’s bedroom, I rifle through the clothes, my heart in my throat.

The closet is filled with leggings, T-shirts, jeans, hoodies, and dresses.

I change into the first thing I see, black leggings and a loose sweatshirt.

A quick look in the mirror reveals I look like a mess, but I have much more significant problems right now.

Leaving the room, I find Zayn has moved all the furniture aside in the living room and has already changed out of his jeans and button-up and is in all his shirtless glory, abs rippling with muscles as he stretches like he just woke up looking sexy as hell for good measure.

My gaze trails over the ridges and valleys of his abs, and I’m caught—snared in the sight of him.

“Enjoying the view?” his voice rumbles, teasing and warm.

I roll my eyes, feigning indifference. “Seen better.”

“Sure you have,” he chuckles, stepping closer, pulling me into the cleared space.

“Let’s get started.”

“I’m shocked you are seriously going to make me train with you. After everything?” I ask, even though the heat of his body draws me in like iron to a magnet.

“Haven’t I been embarrassed enough? And now you want to hand my ass to me.”

“You can hold your own. And it’s about being prepared.” He grasps my wrists gently, his silver wolf eyes glinting. “And I need you prepared with everything going on.”

“Fine,” I concede, my pulse dancing as he keeps hold of me, guiding me through defensive stances. Each touch ignites sparks along my skin, each brush of his fingers against mine sends shivers up my spine.

“Good, now try to pin me,” he instructs, a playful edge in his tone.

“Like I could,” I scoff, but the challenge lights a fire within me. I’ve seen him fight three Alphas, yet he’s pretending I could actually cause him harm.

We move around each other, part combat, part me evading his reach.

His body is a force of nature, and every move is precise and potent.

He allows me close and lets me think I might have a chance.

Our bodies collide, and I find it invigorating.

He may have skill, but I’m a lot smaller and faster as I escape his grip and duck under his arm with a laugh.

I kick the back of his knee, and he drops to one knee, and I pounce on him.

“Got you,” I pant as I manage to jump on his back. He laughs.

“Got me how?” he laughs, he only has to lean forward, and my feet no longer touch the ground. Reaching back, he grips my arm and a shriek leaves my lips as he rips me over his shoulder. The air leaves my lungs in a rush as I hit the foam mat.

“I got you,” he laughs. My breath hitches as I stare up into his eyes, molten gray.

“Seems you do,” I murmur. “Helps you have a lot more reach than me!”

“And heaps taller; I could wear you as a backpack,” he snickers. I glare up at him, and he pushes off the ground to stand when I turn, kicking his legs out from under him. He hits the ground hard, and I scramble to pin him while he stares at the ceiling, having the air knocked out of him.

“Fine, you aren’t short, you’re compact—You’re fun-size,” In one swift motion, he rolls, reversing our positions with an ease that leaves me breathless.

Now pinned beneath him, I marvel at his agility, so at odds with his size.

His eyes, gleaming with a playful glint, meet mine.

“Seems the tiny predator has become the prey.”

I try to throw him off as he pins my hands above my head, his lips tugging in the corners as I struggle against him before I give up with a huff.

“See? Size does have its advantages. Height for reach and weight,” he shifts slightly, emphasizing his point without putting his full weight on me.

“Well, I thought you were supposed to be showing me how to defend myself, not showing me how utterly defenseless I am against someone your size?” I laugh and squirm beneath his weight.

His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto mine with a gaze that could command the moon. “You might think being smaller puts you at a disadvantage,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending a thrill through me. “Remember, you have the big bad wolf always ready to defend you.”

His smirk is a shadow, playing at the edges of his mouth, his eyes burn with a lethal promise. “Let them come for you,” he says, his voice low and cold.

“They’ll quickly learn I’m the last shadow they ever cross.”

My hands roam across the expanse of his chest, tracing the lines down his abs.

Zayn’s breathing grows ragged, matching the erratic beat of my heart.

“You’re really not helping my training here,” I say, my voice shaky, as I try to focus on the task at hand and not the sinful thoughts creeping into my mind.

“No?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I could always…” His lips brush against my ear, sending a shiver through me.

His lips press below my ear gently, his lips grazing his mark on my neck; my back arches at the sensation it causes, like I can feel him everywhere at once as his lips travel along my jaw before meeting mine.

Our lips meet in a clash of passion, tongues fighting for dominance. He tastes like wildness and promises; I drink him in greedily. The room spins, and everything narrows down to the feel of his body pressed against mine, the sound of our mingled breaths.

My hands tremble with anticipation as they reach for the waistband of Zayn’s pants, my fingertips gently tugging at the fabric. But in an instant, his body freezes, and he pulls my hands away, his lips trailing down my neck. Confusion furrows my brow at his sudden rejection.

“What’s wrong?” I manage to pant out, my voice heavy with desire.

Zayn groans, his head resting on my shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “You’re barely a week away from your birthday, Cleo,” he breathes out, his voice filled with longing and restraint. “I’d rather wait until you’ve gotten your wolf.”

His words hang in the air, leaving me bewildered and hurt. He marked me and claimed me as his own, yet now he denies me? The conflicting emotions swirl within me, leaving me feeling like a mere pawn in some game I’m not privy to.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, my voice trembling with frustration.

Zayn sits up, guilt etched across his face. He runs a hand through his tousled hair before meeting my gaze. “I told you this before, Cleo, not until you get your wolf,” he states, his voice filled with sincerity.

My heart sinks as the words leave his lips, and I try to hide how much they truly sting.

The vulnerability in my voice betrays me as I stutter out my confusion.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper, my voice catching in my throat.

“You marked me…but won’t have me? What am I to you, then?

Just a plaything when it suits you? A weapon against my father?

None of this makes any sense. What has waiting for my wolf got to do with it when your mark is on my fucking neck! ”

The room descends into a heavy silence, the weight of my accusations hanging in the air.

Zayn watches me; his expression is unreadable, and he remains silent.

Unable to find the right words, or maybe he doesn’t have any more excuses.

Frustration and anger surge within me, and with a swift motion, I push him away and rise to my feet.