The next morning, sunlight streamed through the penthouse's glass walls, warm and golden, too gentle for how Maya felt inside.
Her head still buzzed with the images of last night—the clash of claws, Damon's silver wolf, the electricity that had jumped between them when she touched him. Her palm still tingled, as if the bond hadn't faded overnight.
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, staring at the skyline. "I should leave," she whispered to herself. "I should pack a bag, run, disappear."
But she didn't move.
She couldn't.
The door opened behind her. She spun, heartbeat tripping. Damon stood there, dressed in black slacks and a half-buttoned shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. He carried power into the room like it was stitched into his skin.
"Get dressed," he said, not bothering with good morning.
Maya bristled. "Excuse me?"
"We're starting your training today." He walked past her, setting a steaming cup of coffee on the counter. "The council accepted you last night, but don't mistake that for safety. They'll be watching. Testing. One wrong move, and they'll tear you apart just to prove I'm weak."
Her stomach tightened. "Training? What does that even mean?"
"It means," he said, turning his silver gaze on her, "you're going to learn how to stand at my side without flinching. You'll know the rules, the customs, the tells. You'll learn when to bow, when to bare your teeth, and when to smile like you're not planning someone's death."
Maya's jaw dropped. "That's… your idea of marriage lessons?"
His lips curved, almost amused. "You wanted a contract marriage. Welcome to the fine print."
They started in the penthouse's sparring room.
It looked like something out of a movie—dark mats, mirrored walls, racks of weapons she couldn't name. Damon tossed her a pair of sneakers, then circled her like a predator assessing prey.
"Rule one," he said. "Never show your throat unless you mean it."
Maya frowned. "Show my—what?"
He stepped close, tilting her chin up with a single finger until her neck stretched. "This," he said softly, almost dangerously. "In wolf society, that's surrender. Submission. An invitation to kill or claim."
Her skin prickled where he touched her. She slapped his hand away. "Then stop making me do it."
His eyes glinted. "Good. You're learning."
The lesson continued. He made her practice posture—shoulders back, chin level, steps deliberate. He corrected her stance with his hands, guiding her hips, her arms, her jaw. Each touch burned hotter than it should, awareness sparking in her blood.
At one point, he stood behind her, his chest brushing her back as he adjusted her grip on an invisible dagger. His breath stirred her hair.
"Too soft," he murmured against her ear. "You hesitate. Wolves see that hesitation, they'll eat you alive."
Her heart hammered. She forced steel into her voice. "Maybe I don't want to play your violent little games."
"You don't have a choice," Damon said, but his voice had dropped, rough with something more than command. "You're in my world now. And in my world, weakness is fatal."
She spun out of his hold, chest heaving. "I'm not weak."
His eyes blazed, silver fire catching her defiance. He stepped closer, the air between them taut, humming. "Prove it."
For one reckless moment, Maya thought he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. God help her, she wanted it like oxygen.
Instead, he stepped back, smoothing his shirt as if nothing had happened. "Lesson's over for today."
But the day wasn't over.
That evening, Damon took her to a gathering in one of the city's hidden clubs—wolves, witches, and creatures Maya couldn't name lounging in velvet booths, music thrumming like a heartbeat.
Every gaze followed her. Judging. Testing.
Maya remembered Damon's lessons. Chin level. Shoulders square. She walked at his side, not behind him, refusing to flinch when a wolf twice her size bared his teeth in a smile.
Whispers rippled through the room. Damon's hand brushed the small of her back, subtle but grounding. She hated how much it steadied her.
At the bar, Selene appeared, flawless in a crimson dress. Her smile was sharp. "Bringing the human to play with the monsters? Bold."
Maya matched her stare. "Monsters don't scare me."
Selene's laugh was cold. "Not yet." She leaned closer to Damon, ignoring Maya entirely. "You always did like a challenge, didn't you?"
Jealousy stabbed hot in Maya's chest before she could stop it. She lifted her drink and downed it, ignoring Damon's sharp glance.
The rest of the night blurred—music, teeth, testing stares. But when they finally returned to the penthouse, Damon stopped her at the door.
"You did well," he said. "Better than I expected."
Maya blinked at him. Was that… praise?
But before she could respond, his hand brushed hers, a fleeting touch that lingered too long to be accidental. Their eyes met.
And for one fragile moment, it felt real. Not a contract. Not a performance. Something alive, dangerous, growing between them like fire.
Maya pulled back first, heart in her throat. "Goodnight, Damon."
She fled to her room before he could see the truth written on her face.