Chapter 50

Chapter 50
Abigail's POV

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window as Autumn rushed into the room, clutching a letter in her hands.

"Miss, the reply from Winter Bastion has arrived."

I took the letter, my fingers trembling slightly—though I tried my best to appear composed. I unfolded it carefully, revealing a message written in sharp, decisive strokes:

Tomorrow morning. The valley north of the pack grounds. Don't be late.

That was all. No greetings, no preamble, no superfluous words. It was so perfectly Nicholas that my lips curved upward involuntarily, my heart racing—a quickening that had nothing to do with training and everything to do with him.

Realizing this, I immediately suppressed the smile, pressing the letter tightly against my chest as if that could hold down my wildly beating heart.

"Autumn, help me find something suitable for training," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

Autumn sprang into action, efficiently rummaging through my wardrobe before finally pulling out a set of dark gray fitted training clothes I'd never worn.

"These, miss. The fabric is durable and won't restrict your movement."

I took the clothes, frowning at the form-fitting cut.

"Isn't this a bit... too tight?"

"Training clothes are supposed to be tight, miss." Autumn looked at me as if it were obvious. "You can't exactly learn to fight in those flowing gowns."

Orchid, who'd been organizing herbs in the corner, let out a rare laugh.

"Are you nervous, miss?"

"I have nothing to be nervous about," I answered quickly, but my fingers unconsciously gripped the fabric tighter.

The dream from last night flashed through my mind in an instant—Nicholas's hands sliding over my body, his low voice in my ear, the weight of his body pinning me down—heat rushed up my neck and into my face. I clenched my jaw. Luna above, I needed to get control of myself.

I barely slept that night. In fact, saying barely was generous—every time I closed my eyes, I saw him, felt him. The dream replayed itself with cruel clarity: his fingers entering me, his mouth taking my nipple, the moment he bit into my neck and claimed me completely.

My body responded to these memories as if they had actually happened, growing hot and tight beneath the blankets. I tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to fill my mind with other thoughts to keep myself from completely falling apart.

When the sky began to lighten, I gave up on sleep entirely.

I rose and dressed in the training clothes Autumn had selected, then stood before the mirror, checking and rechecking every detail. My hair had to be tied securely enough—loose strands would obstruct my vision. The belt needed to be tight enough to secure the clothing but not so tight it would affect my breathing. The boots had to be my most comfortable pair, ones that wouldn't blister or slip.

I told myself this was pragmatism, preparation before going into battle. But I knew the truth—I was stalling, using these trivial actions to occupy my mind so I wouldn't have to acknowledge the real reason my hands were trembling slightly: I was about to see Nicholas, and after having that kind of dream, I didn't know how to look him in the eye.

Autumn emerged from her room yawning and froze when she saw me fully equipped and pacing around the room.

"Miss, it's still dark..."

"I know," I said, realizing I might have answered too quickly. "I want to arrive early. Familiarize myself with the terrain."

It was a reasonable excuse, even tactical. But what I couldn't tell her was that I simply couldn't stay in this room any longer—couldn't keep lying in that bed where I'd dreamed of him touching me, couldn't keep facing these walls while my body still remembered sensations that had never truly happened.

I needed to move. Needed the physical exhaustion to cover the emotions that threatened to consume me at any moment.

When I reached the valley, Nicholas was already there.

The morning mist hadn't fully dispersed yet, and the early sunlight fell on the dewdrops clinging to the grass blades, making the entire valley shimmer faintly. He stood at the forest's edge, wearing dark training clothes that outlined his broad shoulders and firm lines.

The dawn light cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the line of his jaw and the focus in his eyes.

My heart lurched violently. For an instant, dream and reality overlapped—I seemed to see him pressing down on me again, eyes full of desire, his burning body temperature against mine. Heat spread to my face at a suffocating speed, and I even felt slightly dizzy.

I quickly lowered my head, pretending to adjust my sleeves, my fingers clumsily fiddling with fabric that needed no adjustment.

Pull yourself together, I commanded myself silently. He can't know. He can never know.

"Morning." Nicholas spoke, his voice low and calm, pulling my thoughts back from the edge of losing control.

"Morning," I managed, but I could hear the tension and stiffness in my own voice.

I still didn't dare truly meet his eyes, as if the moment our gazes locked, he would see through everything—every frame of that dream, every inch of remembered skin, and the emotions I was desperately hiding.

"Your hands are shaking."

Damn his observational skills.

I immediately tucked my hands behind my back, trying to make my breathing appear steady.

"They're not."

"Nervous?" His tone carried something I couldn't quite identify—perhaps amusement, perhaps simple curiosity.

"No." I finally lifted my head to meet his gaze. I used every ounce of willpower not to flinch away from those sharp gray eyes. "I'm ready."

He looked at me for a long moment. I was almost certain his mouth moved slightly—a smile so subtle it was barely visible, yet enough to send my heartbeat into chaos again.

I clenched my jaw, holding his gaze, refusing to back down.

Finally, he shifted his eyes away, nodding toward the clearing.

"Ten laps around the perimeter. Let me see what you're working with."

I didn't argue, turning to start running. The burning sensation quickly ignited in my lungs, the dull sound of my feet hitting the ground, cool morning air scraping against gradually heating muscles.

By the time I finished the tenth lap, my lungs felt scorched by fire, my legs weak and trembling, but my mind was clearer than at any moment since waking from that cursed dream.

After the run, Nicholas let me rest for fifteen minutes. We sat on a smooth stone by the stream, neither of us speaking.

I was abnormally aware of the distance between us—close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, far enough that we had no contact. I saw from the corner of my eye that he was looking at me. When I turned my head, our gazes met in midair, and for an instant, neither of us looked away.

His face was expressionless, but there was something in his eyes—an overly focused intensity that made my breath catch briefly, and certain thoughts that shouldn't surface crept quietly into my mind.

"What?" I asked, my voice more hoarse than expected.

"Making sure you're not slacking off," he replied, looking away first.

But I noticed the small stretch of skin behind his ear and at the back of his neck had turned slightly red, and his jawline had tightened for a moment. Something deep in my chest fluttered beyond my control.

When the rest period ended, he stood and gestured for me to follow.

"Strength training. Stone weights, push-ups, squats—each exercise to failure. No shortcuts."

His standards were brutally strict—every movement had to be precise, every repetition complete, no half-measures allowed. When my form slipped even slightly, he made me start over; when I thought I'd reached my limit, he told me to do five more.

I gritted my teeth and complied. Sweat quickly soaked through my training clothes, the fabric clinging tightly to my skin. I was acutely aware that this fitted outfit left almost nothing to the imagination, outlining every curve of my body.

Once, I caught Nicholas's gaze lingering on me—just a second, perhaps less—then he seemed to suddenly realize something and jerked his eyes away sharply, his Adam's apple bobbing once.

"Continue," he said, his voice noticeably lower and rougher than before.

My arms were shaking so badly I could barely lift them, but I still forced myself to repeat the movements again and again. I couldn't say exactly what I was trying to prove—whether I was showing him my determination to get stronger, or proving to myself that I could be near him without falling apart.

I only knew I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.

Nicholas stood a few steps away, watching me, still expressionless, but his gaze weighed heavily on me, each look like something tangible. Every time I gritted my teeth and pushed past a new limit, I could feel his attention deepening—that focus made my stomach churn in ways that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

When the sun climbed high and shadows became short stubs, Nicholas finally called a halt. I collapsed onto the grass almost immediately, my chest heaving violently, my muscles burning like fire.

Sweat dripped down my face and neck, hair plastered to my skin, and I was certain I'd never been this physically depleted before. But beneath the extreme fatigue, something else rose up—an intense satisfaction, a sense of achievement spreading from within.

"That's enough for today," Nicholas said, crouching beside me and handing me a water skin.

I took it and drank deeply, the ice-cold water sliding down my throat into my stomach, bringing brief relief. When I finally lowered the water skin, I found him still looking at me that way.

"Tomorrow too?" I asked between gasps.

"You think one session will prepare you for the Great Hunt?" He raised an eyebrow. "Two months until the event. You'll train with me every three days until then."

I lay back on the grass, staring at the cloudless blue sky. Despite the soreness throughout my body, I felt my lips curve slightly upward.

"Deal."

He suddenly stood, turning away.

"Go home and rest properly. Next session, I'll be even harder on you."

"I'll head back now, then," I said slowly, getting up while brushing grass from my clothes, then turning to leave.

"Wait."

When he called out, my heart jumped to my throat. I turned back to see him reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small glass vial and holding it out to me.

"Healing salve," he said gruffly. "Apply it to all the sore places before bed tonight. Tomorrow will be better."

As I took the vial, my fingertips accidentally brushed his palm, that brief touch like sparks racing up my arm. I gripped the small bottle tightly, trying to ignore how warm his hand was, and how much I wanted that moment to last longer.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"And Abigail." He stopped me, his gray eyes meeting mine with unexpected seriousness. "You did well today. Better than I expected. You're stronger than you think you are."

The sincerity in his words made my throat tighten suddenly, emotions I couldn't name surging in my chest. I looked down at the small vial in my hand, blinking rapidly, trying to suppress the sudden heat rising in my eyes.

"I'll keep working hard," I said, my voice almost unsteady.

I turned and walked away before I could do something foolish—like cry in front of him, confess my feelings, or move closer to him to confirm whether his lips were the same as in my dream.

I could feel his gaze following me all the way until I entered the forest and disappeared among the tree shadows.

On the path back to the pack grounds, I cradled the small vial in my palm, my fingertips gently tracing the cold, smooth glass. As if by doing so, I could feel again the warmth that had lingered in his palm.

I knew I was walking along a dangerous edge. These emotions were like wildly growing vines, spreading beyond my control.

Luna above, I didn't know how to stop loving Nicholas.