Page 18

Jackson

At exactly eleven am, her warm scent of coffee and something sweet wafts into the training arena. My wolf perks up instantly, tail wagging like a damn pup. Great. She’s here, and apparently, I’ve completely lost control over myself. I hate how attuned I am to her already.

I can’t have her for so many reasons. I haven’t been with anyone other than casually since Sarah. And Emily is not a casual girl. She deserves someone who will look after her and treat her right. I’m not that guy. Both my wolf and I need to get over whatever the fuck it is we’re feeling.

She walks in, her hood pushed back, her face set with a determined sort of nervousness. I catch myself staring, so I say the first thing that pops into my head.

“You’re late,” I say flatly.

This is good , I tell myself. Create some separation, Jack . Make her think I’m a hardass, keep things professional. It’s safer that way—for both of us. My wolf snarls in disapproval, his hackles rising at the idea of me pushing her away and letting me know he doesn’t agree with this plan.

“Oh, um, sorry, I thought it was eleven?” she stutters.

“Yeah, so I expect you here before eleven. My time is valuable. Are you going to take this seriously?”

I turn to look at her and I can practically see her shrinking smaller. Shit, I’ve probably taken this too far. I’m used to much more forward females, and I forgot—fuck, I forgot what she’s come from. Emily isn’t like that. Or maybe she was, but it’s been beaten out of her.

“I… yes, of course. I’m so sorry. I really appreciate that you’re taking the time to teach me,” she murmurs, gaze locked on the floor.

Right. Time to change tactics before she bolts. “How about we start with the basics. You need to learn to play to your strengths. ”

“Um, I... well, I don’t exactly have any of those,” she says softly, still looking down at her feet.

This can’t be how she actually feels. Didn’t she learn anything about her omega abilities in her pack before she got together with her ex?

All omegas have some kind of natural strength outside of physicality.

A natural gift from the Moon Goddess to ensure that they are valued and protected.

Her response makes no sense and it has me feeling like an even bigger asshole.

“What do you mean? Everyone has strengths.”

Her cheeks flush scarlet as her scent spikes with shame. She sucks in a deep breath and her voice trembles. “I’m just not very good at anything useful.”

As soon as I see her eyes get glassy, the distance I was trying to create goes out the window. I’m such a fucking asshole. My wolf huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry; it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m wasting your time. I’ll go.”

She wraps her arms around herself and turns on her heel to walk away.

And it’s enough for me to realize how stupid my plan was.

Because it’s one thing for her to think I’m an asshole, but another for me to hurt her.

Every instinct in me roars to stop her and I need to know how I can make it all better.

Because it feels so damn wrong to let her walk out thinking she’s nothing.

I want to reach for her, but that seems inappropriate. So instead, I step around her before she reaches the door so I’m in front of her.

“Why do you think that?” I ask gently. “Why do you believe you don’t have strengths?”

“Because I don’t, I’m not good at anything,” she whispers, still looking at the damn ground. She seems so sure, and my chest aches knowing this is how she perceives herself. How can anyone be so beautiful and have such cripplingly low self-esteem?

“Did you have any jobs in your old pack?”

“Um, well yeah, I guess I’m good with numbers, so I did the accounting stuff for the pack.

But, like nothing that involved physical strength,” she says as she continues to look at the ground.

I can smell her shame intensifying, but I can’t understand why.

Does she think physical strength is the only thing needed for a pack?

“So… you were trusted with the entire pack’s financial records, but that doesn’t count?”

She shrugs like it genuinely doesn’t matter. Like it’s not a valuable or impressive skill .

I want to wrap her up and make everything better. Something my wolf has wanted since he first saw her. Changing tactic, I ask, “How did you get out of the Blood Moon?”

“I ran. Aidan was away for the weekend, so I thought I might get a longer head start. But I didn’t get far before the Beta realized and he sent the warriors to chase me. I made it to the ravine and jumped into the river so that they wouldn’t be able to track my scent.”

“That was smart.”

“Yeah, it was smart until my leg got broken in three places and I had to limp on it for weeks and ended up septic and near death,” she says while cringing slightly.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, it was rough.”

“And you got through it,” I say, not trying to hide how impressed I am.

There’s no sign or scent of deception when she speaks.

I’m starting to see what’s been obvious since she got here.

She’s not a threat. She’s just a beautiful and traumatized girl in need of help and a safe place to find some of what she has lost.

Her eyes lift slowly to meet mine, and I don’t miss the flash of surprise. Like she didn’t expect me to say that.

“You’re stronger than you think,” I say, reaching up and gently tucking a strand of her icy blonde hair behind her ear. She leans into the touch for half a second before her brows furrow.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I mutter, stepping back before I fuck this all up. “Okay, let’s work on getting out of holds and afterward we’ll try dodging hits. We’ll work on human form first and assess your wolf another day.”

Emily

The sudden shift in his demeanor leaves me confused and unsteady, wondering if I’ve done something right or if mood swings are always so common for Jackson.

What the hell just happened? Still, I’m not about to waste the opportunity.

And I’m eager to get started and make the most of him not hating me for however long it lasts.

“Okay, sounds good,” I say, trying to muster up some of that belief Sofia has in me.

“You’re fast and you have excellent endurance from what I saw yesterday on your run with the warriors,” Jackson explains. His genuine compliment surprises me. His positive assessment offers a small flicker of hope amidst the crushing weight of my self-doubt. He's probably just saying it.

“You need to keep that up in both forms. I want you running daily, alternating between forms every second day once Doc clears you.”

“I can do that,” I say, feeling a smile stretch across my face as my wolf preens at his praise.

“I love running. It always helps clear my head.” I don’t mention that I only got to run in Blood Moon when I managed to sneak out.

He nods and the ghost of a smile flickers across his face so quickly I would have missed it if I wasn’t staring straight at him.

We get started with training by stretching and my cheeks burn when he comments on my flexibility.

During the next forty-five minutes, Jackson shows me how to recognize weaknesses in several types of holds.

He starts with showing me how to break away from single-hand grabs by using the spot where the attacker’s thumb meets their fingers and rotating my wrist toward the thumb, using a sharp pulling motion.

He talks me through everything before he slowly moves into position, following the steps exactly as he describes them.

No surprises. His touch is feather light.

He releases me at the first signs of resistance.

I’m sure it’s not how he usually trains and the idea that he is adjusting for me has butterflies erupting in my stomach.

“That’s it, Emily, excellent. The faster you move, the less time your attacker has to figure out what you’re doing.

” His praise lights me up from the inside out and I’m surprised by how comfortable I am as he builds the realism of grabbing me, using more speed and force as I gain ability and confidence.

I’ve never associated physical closeness with safety, but Jackson is…

different. Not just in how he touches me, but how he doesn’t .

He asks, even with his body. He waits. I’ve never been given that kind of space. That kind of autonomy.

However, it gets much more difficult as the holds begin to feel more intimate. I hold my breath when he moves his body close to mine. It’s easier to focus on what I’m meant to be doing when he isn’t pressed against me .

We move into dodging. He explains how to pivot, to keep my balance, how to use an attacker’s momentum against them.

He moves faster as I begin to get the hang of it.

More deliberate, and he combines more than one move at a time.

I listen. I learn. And then, somehow, I’m the one knocking him off balance.

He lands hard, and I stand there blinking like, wait… did I just do that?

He laughs. A real one. It lights up his face. “You’re a fast learner.”

“Thank you,” I say, my voice breathy. I grin back at him.

My smile is goofier than his effortlessly gorgeous crooked one.

There’s something about the sincerity in his praise that liquifies my insides.

It isn’t baseless flattery; it’s a genuine recognition of my abilities and efforts.

He never compliments my strength, only my speed, ability to learn, and my effort.

Jackson stares back at me as I beam at him, and something flickers in his eyes.

“What’s next?” I ask.

“I think that’s enough for today. How about we pick it up again tomorrow?”

“That would be great. Thanks so much for doing this, Jackson.” I place my hand on his arm and gaze into his warm brown eyes.

I can’t believe how comfortable I'm becoming with him.

How I can touch him and make eye contact, it's so unlike me.

His calm demeanor and steady gaze fill me with a sense of security, a feeling I would love to get used to.

Even if he is giving me completely mixed messages.

I’m still not sure how he sees me, with part of him seeming to have nothing but disdain for me, but then he is going out of his way to help me.

He makes no sense, and it’s unsettling. I like to know where I stand but I can’t get a read on Jackson and I can usually assess other's intentions. But he is probably just being kind by giving me these lessons. And I’m sure I can get past this crush on him.

I won’t be here much longer.

His gaze drops to where my hand rests on his forearm.

Then back to my face. His brows furrow and his eyes darken.

His large arm bands around my waist and my body tumbles into his, my small curves molding against his hard, muscular form.

I gasp and peek up at him, seeing the heat in his eyes.

Large fingers splay across my back, holding me against him.

I suck in a sharp breath. My hands press to his chest, but not to push him away.

I’m frozen, watching his eyes darken, sensing the hunger radiating from him.

And Goddess help me, I want it. I want him.

My breathing comes in hard pants and my core throbs.

But then he steps back abruptly, leaving me cold and confused. Again .

“Don’t be late tomorrow,” he barks as he briskly strides away from me. I stand alone in the training room, watching after him for a few minutes. Utterly perplexed by what just happened.