Chapter 7 Alpha Lessons

"You want to be strong?"

Dante's voice was as sharp as a razor slicing through silence. "Then prove it."

I should have walked away the moment he challenged me. But instead, I found myself standing in the private training pit behind the Alpha quarters, jaw clenched, heart pounding, while he circled me like a predator playing with his prey.

The truth? I was strong, stronger than they all thought. I'd trained alone, bled in silence, and survived rejection in front of the whole academy. But Dante didn't know that. And part of me wanted him to see it, wanted him to choke on it.

"Try again," he snapped as I lunged forward, throwing a strike.

He blocked it effortlessly. His palm slammed against my ribs, spinning me sideways into the dirt. My breath punched out of my lungs.

"You're hesitating," he said coldly. "Still afraid of me?"

I shoved to my feet, eyes blazing. "No. I'm afraid I'll lose control and rip your throat out." I smirked.

His lips twitched; a smile almost formed.

The sun was burning low in the sky. The air around us shimmered with heat, sweat clinging to my skin like a second skin. My arms trembled, and my legs ached. I'd been training nonstop for hours no water, no rest.

And he hadn't gone easy on me not once.

Dante had always been a bastard, but today? He was savage and ruthless.

And yet...

Every time our bodies collided, every time his hand caught my wrist or his leg swept mine, his grip lingered a little too long. His breathing hitched a little too hard. His control frayed at the edges.

He was unraveling. Just like me.

"Come on," he growled. "Show me the girl who stood back up after I broke her."

"I'm not that girl anymore," I hissed.

"Then prove it."

I snapped.

I lunged with everything I had, fists flying, fury burning in my veins. I landed a hit across his jaw. He stumbled back, surprised. Blood bloomed on his lip.

His eyes snapped up to mine.

And for a second, the air shifted; there was no more trainer and student, on more Alpha and reject.

Just... fire.

He surged forward, grabbed my wrist, and twisted. I twisted back. Our bodies slammed together. He pinned me to the wall of the training shed, breath ragged, chest heaving.

Too close, too fast, I couldn't breathe.

His hand was still on my wrist, but he wasn't holding me anymore, he was feeling me.

I could see it in his eyes how they dropped to my lips, my neck, and the curve of my shoulder damp with sweat. My chest brushed his with every breath.

His voice dropped, hoarse. "Why do you fight like that?"

"Like what?" I whispered, unable to stop the way my body trembled.

"Like you're trying to kill something inside yourself."

I swallowed hard.

"I am." Silence followed and tension.

His hand slid from my wrist down to my arm.

Goosebumps bloomed in its wake.

"I told you to prove your strength," he said quietly. "You did."

He stepped back.

But the heat he left behind lingered.

My whole body was trembling. Not from exhaustion but from the storm he'd stirred inside me.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to slap him... or beg him to do it again.

"Training's over," he muttered, walking off without looking back.

But as he disappeared into the shadows, I saw the way his hands curled into fists and I knew.

This wasn't over, not even close.

That night, I stood under the cold spray of the dormitory showers, replaying every second of his touch, every breathless heartbeat we'd shared against that wall. I tried to scrub the sensation off my skin. But it was too late; I could still feel his breath on my neck.

Still hear his voice in my ear, and I still crave something I shouldn't want.

Whatever we'd started today, it was dangerous.

Dangerous for me.