Next up is a boulder throw, which I complete with ease, lifting the large rock over my shoulder and catching a briefglimpse of my partner on the bleachers when I turn. Seeing her face again is what gives me the courage to throw the boulder as far as I can, and then rush forward toward the balancing beam.
This one is to test our agility, and with the help of the skills I’d learned in black ops, I’m able to nimbly balance my weight on the narrow wooden beam that extends into the forest.
Once I hop down, I shift into wolf form and bolt for the woods, my ears catching every tick and faint sound that leads me to pick up the sound of a deer’s unsuspecting, steady breathing as it grazes behind a tree. With my heart pounding in my chest to pump the adrenaline through my veins, I effortlessly lunge for the deer just as its ears perk up when it hears me approaching. But it’s too late for the timid creature that I take down in a split second, its bleat cut short as my teeth pierce its neck.
With the deer’s neck between my teeth, I race back to the main area, throwing the lifeless body of the animal on the field across the finish line when a horn is sounded to signal the end of the first game.
Shifting into human form, Alpha Sirius is at my side in a flash, lifting my hand to declare me today’s winner.
“Dominic Rivera is our winner in the first trial!” he yells out when the other contenders have made it back from the woods. Only Santo and Simon come lugging in animals, while the others come empty-handed.
My chest swells with pride at my victory as everyone congratulates me. Everyone except Cecelia—I notice her leaving her spot on the bleachers, and suddenly, I’m concerned that she might try to run away again.
Though I won today’s test because it was an individual trial, I can’t afford for her to leave now. The other tests willrequire a partner, and I have to ensure that she sticks to her end of our deal.
Quickly excusing myself from the celebrations, I jog toward the cabins, relief washing over me as soon as I see Cecelia opening our cabin door. She turns around and throws an accusing grimace at me.
“Congratulations,” she scowls, folding her arms across her chest as I saunter forward with slower steps.
“Thanks,” I reply with a proud smirk. “I guess all my training in black ops worked out for me.”
Cecelia shrugs diffidently. “You should probably go back and celebrate with your friends.”
I wipe a hand across my sweat-beaded forehead and grin. “I think I need a shower.”
“Okay,” Cecelia responds without emotion, then turns and enters the cabin without another word.
Her disappearance into the cabin feels like a knife going through my heart, and I’m suddenly faced with the daunting realization that I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. Her indifference toward me feels like bitter rejection, only mildly reflecting what she might have felt after I took her virginity on her birthday.
I wasn’t drunk that night—not from alcohol, at least. But I was drunk on Cecelia’s scent, unable to fight my inner wolf’s baser urges. It’s not like I hadn’t succumbed to bodily pleasures with she-wolves in the past, but I’d always been piss-drunk and out of my senses. When I woke up the next morning, sober and clear-minded, I’d thank the she-wolf for a good time and remind her that it wasn’t anything serious.
That’s not how it went with Cecelia. I was as sober as I was when I woke up in the forest beside her, but it was frightening how drawn I was to her the night before. I didn’t mean to take advantage of her. On the contrary, I’d just given in to my inner wolf’s desperate need to take her in the most primal way. The only reason I rejected her was because of her status in the pack, and my vow to never take a mate, even if I become alpha.
The rock lies on the foundation I built to become the leader of the pack, while the hard place is that strange pull I feel toward Cecelia. I shouldn’t have doubted that she’d stick to her end of the deal, and I could have easily remained on the field to celebrate my victory with my friends. It’s like my inner wolf has a mind of its own, an ego of its own that needs to be stroked.
Taking a deep breath, I once again bury my personal feelings, wanting to stick to my lifelong plan of becoming the alpha of this pack. As I head inside the cabin and see Cecelia in the kitchen, I can only hope that this close proximity doesn’t force my inner wolf’s urges to come out. Right now, I desperately need a shower.
Chapter 9 - Cecelia
I hold my breath as I hear Dominic entering the cabin, his footsteps hard to ignore when the floorboards creak under his weight. Once I hear the bathroom door open and close, I let out a drawn-out breath, my body slumping beneath the weight of having to wear a mask of indifference toward him.
He has no idea how affected I was, watching him succeed in today’s trials without flinching. If it wasn’t for how much I hate him, I might have even enjoyed the show and thought that he was hot.
“Get it together, Cece,” I murmur under my breath, gripping the edges of the kitchen counter so tightly that my tanned skin pales over my knuckles. I shouldn’t be letting him get to my head, but it’s nearly impossible to keep my wits about me when Dominic Rivera is the epitome of a masculine werewolf.
It’s not like he needed my help in any way, and this leads me to wonder why he’d been adamant to keep me around to complete the trials. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take, watching him in his natural element and drooling over him as if the past means nothing.
It doesn’t help that he chased me down after the trial and waited for me to congratulate him. Just what is he playing at? Does he think that the past means nothing? That I've forgotten all about it as if he didn't break my heart?
You don’t forget the first time someone you trusted looked right through you. Especially when everyone else was laughing. What hurt more than his rejection that morning, three years ago, was his silence when the others were mocking me.That broke my heart and ripped it to shreds even tinier than the broken pieces they were that morning.
That very heart pounds now, and I have to take a moment to gather my composure before I check the cabinet for a quick snack. Maybe if I stuffed my face, I would become distracted enough that I'd stop thinking about Dominic and how delicious he looked performing those tasks in today's trial.
I grab a bag of chips out of the cabinet, dragging my feet across the floor until I'm in the living area, where I can plop myself on a couch. I pop open the chips bag and grab a handful of crispy, salty goodness, about to shove it into my mouth, when the bathroom door opens to a loud screech of the metal hinges.
A trickle of awareness runs down my spine as I sniff the warm air that wafts out of the bathroom, filled with cedarwood and citrus notes from the soap Dominic used to shower. But when he steps out, a gentle gust of air carries with it his intrinsic, minty scent that has my insides twisting with recognition.
Deep breaths, Cece, I remind myself. The only trouble with that gentle reminder is that the deep breaths only serve to fill my lungs with the scent that grows stronger as I'm alerted to Dominic passing the living room on his way to the kitchen.
