Page 9

9

Wyatt

Y esterday's last challenge keeps playing through my mind as I run the perimeter of the training grounds. Watching Naomi complete that course alone felt wrong, like missing a limb. It’s going to get harder and harder to be apart.

After having her in my arms, her sudden distance after that last task left me oddly bereft. Physical separation from her causes a dull ache in my chest. Like a stretched rubber band, the further apart we are, the more tension builds. My wolf paces restlessly inside me, confused and agitated by this push and pull.

My wolf can’t understand what went wrong. I spent the night wandering the forest in my wolf, running with Jax, who’s only been coming out at night, before finally settling as close to her cabin as I could without facing more accusations of being a predator.

Naomi crushed it, though. My chest swelled with pride watching her navigate the course with perfect precision, even if my wolf had bristled at not being allowed to help. She's stronger than she looks, my mate. Even though she was too polite to brag, she beat my time, and the idea of being mated to such an impressive woman brings a smile to my face.

But we’re not mated yet. Something shifted during the confrontation with Ryan and while I was completing the scent trial. The warm glances and open smiles stopped both times.

I was hoping she’d come and find me last night, maybe run with me, maybe let me reward her for being such a badass, but I never saw her again.

The sound of fists hitting leather draws me from my brooding, and I slow down to identify who else is punishing themselves at this time of the morning.

My wolf immediately recognizes the scent. Naomi. She's alone in the training area, working a punching bag with controlled fury, each hit precise, but powered by obvious frustration.

Part of me hopes she missed me too, and maybe that's why she's out here so early working out her frustrations. Part of me worries that’s not true.

I hang back in the shadows of the equipment shed, taking a moment to admire how she moves. Her form is perfect, clearly trained by someone who knew what they were doing. But there's an edge to her movements that wasn't there yesterday morning. The effortless grace has been replaced by something harder, almost desperate.

Something's changed. She’s upset.

Watching her, I'm struck again by how incredible she is. Most female wolves rely on speed and agility, but Naomi hits with genuine power. Each punch lands with the kind of force that could break bones.

"Your guard is dropping," I say quietly, stepping into view. “Is your leg still bothering you?”

Naomi spins, startled, and my wolf preens at catching her off guard. Her cheeks flush pink, and her heart rate spikes, but not from fear. The mate bond pulses between us, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for her. A sheen of perspiration makes the tanned skin on her chest and shoulders glisten.

"I didn't think anyone else would be up yet," she says, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “And no, my leg is fine. Your magic hands did the trick. Why are you not still in bed?”

It should be a compliment, and yet it doesn’t sound like one.

"Couldn't sleep." I move closer, noting how she tenses but doesn't back away. "Want a sparring partner?"

She seems troubled, so I don’t bother telling her I’ve been sleeping in the woods. Her wolf pushes forward, eager, even as uncertainty flashes across her face. "I don't know if that's a good idea. My self-control isn’t what it should be around you."

It’s a fantastic idea. I want to touch her. I want to feel her sweat on my skin, and our bodies close together. If this is the only way to get that, I’ll take it.

"Scared I'll hurt you?" I tease, trying to lighten whatever mood has descended over her.

That gets a reaction. Her eyes flash gold, and she drops into a fighting stance. "You wish."

We circle each other on the training mats, and I can't help but grin at her competitive spirit. When she strikes first, I block easily, using my height advantage to keep her at bay. But she's quick, ducking under my guard and landing a solid hit to my ribs.

"Nice." I grunt, genuinely impressed. She’s lightning fast. No wonder she was faster yesterday.

The sparring intensifies, our bodies moving in a dance, pushing forward and retreating. Naomi is angry. It pours from her like hot lava. And if she needs a punching bag to take it out on, I’m happy to be it. For now.

This isn’t the best way to communicate, or to bond, but we’re only just now getting to know each other. And she hasn’t learned yet that I’m like a dog with a bone. Pushing me away won’t work. Not when I can feel her inner turmoil.

And so instead of talking, we fight.

Each time we make contact, electricity zings through my body. Her scent surrounds me, sweet and spicy with exertion, making my wolf strain against his chains.

I catch her arm mid-strike and use her momentum to spin her around, pulling her back against my chest.

She goes still, her breath coming in short pants that match my own racing heart. My cock stirs, reacting to both being pressed against her tight body and her spirit. She presses back against me. The slightest movement of her ass on my crotch is enough to send my heart racing. As I harden, she releases a breathy whimper that nearly undoes my control.

"Got you," I murmur, letting my breath fan across her heated skin, and my lips brush her ear. “Didn’t I tell you that already, Naomi? I’ve got you. Whatever it is.”

When I trail my hand down her side, my hand gripping her hip and pulling her flush to my body, a shiver runs through her, and she melts against me for just a moment before stiffening.

"Nobody has me,” she says, her tone defiant, and I release my grip slightly, allowing her to turn in my arms. When she looks up, eyes big and worried, my heart breaks.

I run my thumb across her chin and brush her full bottom lip, which trembles. No longer feisty and determined to prove something by kicking my ass, she looks defeated.

Her fingers curl against my chest as she hangs her head. “Wyatt..."

Before she can pull away, a young female wolf approaches at a run, interrupting whatever she was about to say. I curse the poor timing, and the girl glances between us nervously, picking up on my frustration, before holding out a folded note to Naomi.

"From you know who," she whispers, before mouthing the name Maddie while scanning all around.

The messenger is nervous, her eyes darting everywhere as if expecting to be followed. She's young, barely out of her teens, with the gangly limbs of someone still growing into their wolf. Her scent carries fear, sharp and acrid, cutting through the combined scent of our exertion.

Naomi snatches the paper, breaking away from me to read it without me looking over her shoulder. While she quizzes the girl, I try not to eavesdrop but catch fragments about "guards" and "watching the house" that make my protective instincts flare.

The girl has snuck to the Games to deliver this message while supposedly visiting a sick aunt in a neighbouring pack. She needs to hurry back.

I don’t like any of this.

"Shit," Naomi mutters, tipping her head back to stare at the sky while crumpling up the note. Her scent sours with anxiety and... guilt?

"Everything okay?" I ask, reaching for her, wanting more than anything to be her rock. We’re mates. She should be able to lean on me.

Instead, she backs away, shaking her head. "I have to go."

"Naomi, wait…"

But she's already rushing off, leaving me confused and concerned.

My wolf protests, urging me to follow, to fix whatever's wrong. But movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention.

Brad is loitering near the entrance, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes my hackles rise.

Two other competitors who gathered to watch me and Naomi spar exchange meaningful looks. "They seem close," one murmurs.

I ignore them. My focus split between Naomi's retreating form and Brad's calculating stare.

Something's very wrong, but unless Naomi opens up to me, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do. Instinct tells me to chase after her, to demand answers, but that would only push her further away.

Whatever's going on, she's scared, and not of me.

Unsure what any of this means, I head to the packhouse to get some food, and to steal some for my mate, who once again appears to have forgotten to eat. Long after I’m done, I stand on the steps, waiting for her to return, watching the pups racing on the front lawn.

My chest aches. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Naomi was letting me help her over obstacles and sharing snacks between rounds, her eyes lighting up every time I approached. Now, she won't even look at me.

"Rough morning?" Callum asks, his tone carefully neutral as he joins me.

I grunt noncommittally, unable to take my eyes off the paths in front of me, determined to speak with her when she returns.

"I saw Naomi talking to Brad before her race yesterday," Callum says, his tone carefully neutral. "Didn't look like a pleasant conversation. She seemed… rattled."

“Her alpha?” I ask.

The mention of Brad sends my wolf into high alert, remembering how Naomi's scent had soured with anxiety when she'd seen him watching us during the first task.

"Her sister’s alpha, actually,” Callum corrects. “I believe she never transferred there. It was supposed to be a short-term thing, but then Maddie’s mate died… and she stuck around to help her recover. I’m surprised they both haven’t returned home."

My wolf's ears prick up at this information. Callum isn’t saying there’s something fishy about the whole situation, but I’m getting the message, loud and clear.

I've met enough alphas to know there are two kinds: those who earn respect through strength and wisdom, and those who demand it through fear and manipulation. Everything about Brad, from his smug expression to the way Naomi tenses when he's near, tells me which kind he is.

Callum gives me an intense look. "From what I saw, it would appear the alpha has set his sights on her."

I think about the note from her sister, about Brad's smug expression, and Naomi's sudden withdrawal.

My wolf growls. Naomi doesn’t like her alpha, and for shifters, where your pack is supposed to be your family, that’s not a good thing.

“Why not just leave if she’s miserable there?”

"Not everything is as easy as it seems." Callum claps me on the shoulder, ready to leave, but then pauses. "And Wyatt? Be careful. Brad isn't known for being a nice guy."

My wolf is finely attuned to other people’s emotions. Jamie tells me it’s a trauma response, always trying to work out the mood of everyone in a room. Whatever it is, it’s telling me that Brad is toxic.

"Thanks," I tell him, already trying to plan how to get Naomi alone again. It’s nice to have someone on my side for once.

I linger a little longer, but Naomi never reappears, and now I know she’s avoiding me. Which isn’t ideal, but that’s not the most urgent issue.

My mate is upset. And I'm going to figure out what's really going on.