The sun over the Blackthorn Mountains didn't offer warmth; it only glared, a cold, judgmental eye watching my every move.
I had been awake for three hours before dawn. My morning had been spent on my knees, scrubbing soot from the Great Hall's massive fireplaces until my fingernails bled. Now, the real punishment began. I was the "water girl" for the mid-morning training session. It was a role designed for maximum humiliation: carrying two massive wooden buckets of water back and forth across the dusty arena while the pack's elite warriors laughed at my struggling frame.
The training field was a wide, sand-covered pit carved into the mountainside. It smelled of sunbaked leather, salt, and the sharp, metallic tang of unsheathed steel.
"Faster, Red Hollow!" a guard barked. He lunged forward, kicking a cloud of grit onto my damp dress as he walked by.
"Our wolves are thirsty, and you're moving like a snail in winter."
I didn't look up. I couldn't afford to. I kept my eyes locked on the water sloshing in the buckets, my arms feeling like they were being slowly pulled from their sockets. My muscles screamed, but beneath the pain, that strange, low hum in my blood kept me moving. It was a rhythm, a heartbeat that wasn't mine pulsing in time with a golden light hidden in the deepest corners of my soul.
In the center of the ring, the high-ranking warriors were sparring and Alaeric was there.
He had stripped down to a thin linen shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He moved like a storm: heavy, rhythmic, and surgical. He was sparring with three men at once, his practice sword a blur of motion. Every time he struck, the wood-on-wood contact cracked across the arena like a gunshot.
I tried to melt into the shadows of the stone pillars, praying he wouldn't notice me. But the bond didn't care about shadows. Every time he pivoted, a jolt of electricity shot through my chest. I could feel his pulse as if it were my own. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin from twenty yards away. It was a torture I hadn't asked for, to be rejected by a man, yet still be tuned to his frequency like a radio.
I set the buckets down near the weapon racks, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
"More," a voice commanded.
I looked up. Selene was standing at the edge of the ring; her arms crossed over her pristine tunic. Her eyes were chips of ice.
"The Beta's unit is returning from patrol," she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "They'll need fresh water. Go back to the well."
"I've already brought six loads," I whispered. My throat felt like it was filled with glass.
Selene stepped into my space, her shadow swallowing me whole. "Did I ask for a count, Omega? I asked for water. Move, or I'll have the guards use you for shield practice.
I gripped the wooden handles, my knuckles turning bone white. I wanted to scream, to throw the water in her face, to let the fire in my blood consume everything. Instead, I turned. I began the long trek back across the arena, the heavy buckets dragging through the deep sand.
Behind me, the sparring match hit a fever pitch. Alaeric had disarmed two of his opponents and was facing the third, Garret, a massive warrior with a reputation for a fragile ego. Frustrated by being toyed with in front of the pack, Garret lost his cool.
He lunged with a heavy practice spear, a massive wooden pole tipped with a blunt iron cap. Alaeric parried the strike with a guttural roar, the sheer force of his counterblow sending Garret stumbling backward toward the weapon racks near me.
Garret's heel caught on a discarded shield. He crashed into the rack of real, sharpened steel spears meant for the border patrol. The heavy timber frame groaned and tipped.
One of the war-spears—a weapon weighted and balanced to kill a Lycan in a single throw, slid from its notch. As the rack hit the ground, the momentum launched the spear like a bolt from a crossbow. It didn't just fall; it shot out, aimed directly at the center of my spine.
"Watch out!" someone screamed, but it was already too late.
Time didn't just slow down; it stopped.
I felt the air pressure change behind me. I didn't hear the spear, but I felt the vibration of it slicing the wind. My mind, the part of me trained to be a victim—told me to drop and cover my head.
But the Moonblood didn't ask for permission.
My body moved before I could process the danger. I didn't drop the buckets. I spun.
In one fluid, impossible motion, I swung the heavy wooden bucket in my right hand upward. The momentum of the water shifted, and the thick oak base of the bucket met the iron tip of the spear mid-air.
CLANG.
The impact shivered through my bones, but I didn't buckle. I planted my feet, my eyes snapping open as a flash of molten gold ignited in my pupils. I didn't just block it; I steered it. With a sharp twist of my wrist, I used the weight of the water to deflect the weapon. The spear hissed past my ear, missing my temple by an inch, and buried itself four inches deep into the wooden post behind me.
The arena turned to a graveyard silent.
The only sound was the low, metallic hum of the spear vibrating against the post. I stood there, chest heaving, the heavy bucket still held out in a perfect defensive stance. Water dripped from the base where the iron had left a deep, jagged dent in the wood.
My heart wasn't racing with fear. It was thundering with a roar of triumph that nearly drowned out my senses.
Slowly, I lowered the bucket. The gold in my vision began to recede, leaving me feeling suddenly cold and dangerously exposed. I looked up.
Every warrior in the arena was frozen. Selene's mouth was hanging open, her face a mask of pale shock.
Kael stood ten feet away, his hand frozen on the hilt of his sword. He had tried to reach me, but he hadn't been fast enough. He was staring at my feet, at the perfect balance and then at my arms, which hadn't even trembled under the weight of the strike.
"That's impossible," Kael whispered into the silence. "An Omega doesn't have the reflexes to parry a flying spear. Especially not with a bucket."
Then, my gaze found Alaeric.
He was standing in the center of the ring, his practice sword forgotten in the sand. His chest was heaving, his grey eyes locked onto mine with terrifying intensity. I saw the confusion. I saw the rage. But beneath it all, his wolf was looking at me.
The reality of what I'd done hit me. I dropped the buckets, the water splashing over my feet, and I pulled my shoulders inward. I lowered my head, staring at the sand, desperately trying to shrink back into the girl they expected me to be.
"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, my voice trembling. "It was an accident. I just... I got scared."
"An accident?" Selene finally found her voice, her face turning a mottled, angry red. "You nearly caused a riot! You're clumsy, useless, a danger to everyone…"
"Enough!"
The word was a physical blow. Alaeric stepped forward, his presence so heavy it felt like the oxygen was being sucked out of the arena. He walked toward me, his eyes never leaving mine.
He stopped a foot away. The scent of woodsmoke, rain, and raw power was overwhelming. The bond pulsed between us, a demanding, aching heat. He looked at the spear buried in the post, then back at my face.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the torn sleeve of my dress where the spear had almost touched me. His touch was like a brand.
"Kael," Alaeric called out, his voice low and vibrating with a strange, dark energy.
"Yes, Alpha?" Kael stepped forward, his gaze still fixed on me with intense curiosity.
"She is done with the water buckets," Alaeric growled, his jaw tight. He looked at me with a mixture of fury and something that looked a lot like fear. "She's a liability out here. She's too... distracting. Take her out from here.
He turned on his heel and walked away without a backward glance, but I felt the pull of his wolf all the way across the grounds.