Chapter 25 Fighting Alone
Calix Pov
The moon was full tonight. Bright. Hanging low in the sky like it was watching me and judging me. Making everything silver, making the training field look different and strange. Beautiful in a cold way.
I stood behind a thick pine tree at the edge of the field. Hidden in the shadows where nobody could see me. Where nobody would know I was here. Where I could watch without being caught.
This was pathetic. I knew it was pathetic, hiding like some creep. Watching her from a distance like a stalker but I couldn't help it. The pull was too strong. The need to see her. To make sure she was safe. To torture myself with what I couldn't have.
She was there and alone. At the punching bag Elara had been teaching her on. Training even though it was past midnight. Even though she should be sleeping. Even though her feet probably still hurt from the wolfsbane burns.
But there she was. Punching. Over and over. Her fists connected with the bag. Each hit stronger than the last. Each movement more controlled, more powerful. She'd gotten better, so much better. Elara was teaching her well.
Sweat glistened on her skin in the moonlight and made her shine and look almost unreal. Her tank top was soaked through, dark with sweat. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Pieces had fallen loose. Stuck to her face, her neck and her shoulders. She didn't seem to care or notice. Just kept punching and kept fighting. Kept pushing herself harder.
The determination in her eyes burned bright even from this distance. I could see it in the way she moved. In the way she set her jaw. In the way she refused to give up. That fire that said nobody would break her. Nobody would make her weak, nobody would win.
She was beautiful. Not just physically. Though she was that too but beautiful in the way she fought. In the way she refused to stay broken. In the way she turned her pain into strength, she survived.
Unbreakable. That's what she looked like. Unbreakable.
My heart twisted in my chest. Sharp. Painful. Like someone was squeezing it. Like someone was wringing it out. The mate bond pulled at me. Screamed at me. Demanded I go to her. Demanded I help her. Demanded I be near her. Demanded I claim what was mine.
"Just go," my wolf said quietly. His voice was sad tonight. Defeated. "Stop torturing yourself. Stop torturing us. Just go to her."
I wanted to. My whole body wanted to. Wanted to walk over there. Wanted to wrap my arms around her from behind. Wanted to adjust her form. Wanted to tell her she was doing amazing. Wanted to kiss the sweat off her neck. Wanted to hold her. Wanted to claim her. Wanted everything I couldn't have.
She threw another punch. Perfect form this time. Her hips twisted. Her fist snapped at the end. The bag swung back hard. Far. She smiled. Small. Satisfied. Proud of herself.
That smile did something to me. Made my chest ache worse. Made the bond pull harder. Made everything hurt. Made me want to go to her even more.
I took one step forward. Out from behind the tree. Toward her. My foot moved before my brain could stop it. Before I could think about what I was doing. Before I could remember all the reasons why this was a bad idea.
"Yes," my wolf said. Hope bloomed in his voice. "Go to her. Talk to her. Be near her. Just for a moment."
Another step. Then another. My body was moving on its own. The bond pulling me forward like a rope around my chest. Like gravity. Like I had no choice. Like I was meant to be near her.
She didn't see me. Was too focused on the bag. On her training. On getting stronger. On surviving. On becoming who she needed to be.
One more step. Then another. I was halfway across the field now. Close enough to call out. Close enough for her to hear me if I spoke. Close enough to matter. Close enough to be real.
But then reality hit. Cold. Hard. Sobering. Like ice water dumped over my head.
What was I doing? What was I thinking? I couldn't go to her. Couldn't be near her. My father's threat echoed in my head. Clear. Sharp. Final. Marry Simone or Maddie suffers. Simple as that.
If I went to her now. If I claimed her. If I showed anyone I cared. My father would know. Would make good on his threat. Would hurt her. Would maybe kill her. Would destroy everything I was trying to protect.
And even if my father didn't. Even if that wasn't a factor. There was still the curse. Still the rage. Still the violence that lived inside me waiting to destroy everything I loved. Waiting to hurt her. Waiting to kill her like I'd killed everyone else.
Mom. Marcus. The puppy. Everyone I'd ever loved. Everyone I'd ever cared about. They all ended up dead or broken because of me. Because of what I was. Because of the curse.
I couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk her. Not for a few moments of happiness. Not for the temporary relief of being near her. Not for anything.
She deserved better. Deserved someone who could protect her without threatening her. Deserved someone who wasn't broken. Wasn't cursed. Wasn't dangerous. Wasn't me.
I forced myself to stop. Forced my foot to stay planted. Forced my body to freeze. Fought against every instinct. Every desire. Every need.
"No," my wolf whimpered. "Please. Just a few minutes. Just to talk to her. Just to be close."
"We can't," I said. My voice came out rough. Broken. Desperate. "You know we can't."
I forced myself to turn. Forced my body to face away from her. Away from the training field. Away from everything I wanted. Away from my mate. Away from happiness. Away from hope.
"This is wrong," my wolf said. "This is torture. This is killing us. Slowly. Every day."
"I know," I said quietly. "But it's keeping her alive. That's what matters. That's all that matters."