Part of him wanted to go to her, to pick her up and carry her into his cabin and promise that he would protect her. The other part of him waited for the complaint. The excuse. The moment she’d finally admit this had been a mistake and retreat to the warmth of the cabin.
“Feet wider.” Her voice came out thin but steady. “Like this?”
She adjusted her stance without being told, widening her base the way he’d shown her. Her balance improved immediately—still terrible by Vultor standards, but less likely to send her sprawling at the first gust of wind.
“Better.”
She didn’t preen at the approval. Just nodded once and held the position, waiting for whatever torture he’d devise next.
Stubborn,his beast noted approvingly.Strong.
He ignored it, just as he’d been ignoring it ever since she’d woken in his arms and smiled at him instead of screaming. His beast had been prowling beneath his skin continuously, determined to claim this small human who’d crashed into his territory. Instead, he’d forced himself to stay away, to let her struggle when every protective instinct he had screamed for him to come to her rescue.
He was now convinced that her helplessness wasn’t an act or a scheme to trap him, but he’d promised to help her grow stronger and he wouldn’t go back on his word.
“Arms up. Hands open, fingers together.” He demonstrated the guard position, a basic defensive stance that even Vultor children could hold for hours. “Keep your elbows close to your ribs.”
She tried to mimic the position, but it was completely wrong. Her arms were too high, her elbows too extended, and her fingers were splayed instead of pressed together.
He should have corrected her verbally. That’s what a proper instructor would do—stand at a distance and bark orders, maintaining the separation between teacher and student. Instead, he found himself moving behind her.
“Here.” His hands closed over her elbows, adjusting them downward. The thin fabric of her borrowed clothing did nothingto mask the warmth of her skin beneath. “Tight to your body. You’re protecting your center, not framing your face.”
She stiffened at his touch—not pulling away, just… noticing. He could hear her heartbeat quicken and smell the subtle shift in her scent that spoke of awareness. He should step back. He knew he should step back.
Instead his hands slid down her arms to her wrists, adjusting the angle of her hands. “Fingers together. A spread hand is a broken hand.”
“I understand.” Her voice came out slightly breathless, and his beast purred.
He forced himself to release her and move away, putting three paces between them, despite the immediate feeling of loss. “Hold that position. Don’t move.”
She held it. The trembling intensified because her body was soft and untrained, her muscles not built for sustained strain. But she held it, jaw set, eyes fixed on the middle distance with a focus that bordered on ferocious.
Minutes passed. Two, then five, then eight. The snow continued to fall around them in lazy spirals, dusting her blonde hair with white, catching on her eyelashes. She blinked the flakes away but didn’t move.
Nine minutes. Ten.
Her arms finally began to drop, her muscles finally giving out despite her determination. She caught herself before they fell completely, dragging them back up through sheer force of will, but he could see them wobbling.
“Enough.”
She exhaled sharply and let her arms fall. “How long?”
“Ten minutes. Warriors hold that position for an hour without rest.”
“I’ll get there.”
Notwill I get there?orhow long before I can do that?Just a flat statement of fact. She would get there. Because she’d decided to, and apparently her decisions were immutable.
It shouldn’t have been attractive. She was human, fragile and completely unsuited to the warrior path she’d demanded. He should have seen her determination as foolishness—the stubbornness of someone too naive to recognize their own limitations.
Instead, he found himself watching the rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath, tracking a droplet of melted snow as it slid down her temple and disappeared between her shirt into the valley between her breasts.
Mate,the beast whispered, but he quickly shoved the thought away.
The afternoon drills were worse.
He led her through the basic footwork patterns—simple movements designed to teach balance and control before more complex techniques were introduced. Step forward, step back. Shift weight, hold position. Turn, maintain center, don’t let the motion carry you past your point of balance.
