Page 28 of Pack Obsession

I swallow hard, needing to focus on the training and not his body against mine.

"I’m open to suggestions."

"Head back," he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. "Hard and fast. Break their nose if you can. Then,"—his grip on my wrists loosens fractionally—"twist your hips, use their weight against them. But maybe we should wait until?—"

I don’t give him time to finish. I snap my head back, aiming for his face, while trying to twist like he described, but he’s faster—always faster. He jerks his head away just in time. I manage to get partly free, wriggling and twisting onto my back, but he quickly regains control, pressing me back into the grass.

This time, we’re face-to-face.

He’s straddling my hips, staring down at me with a wicked grin. God, he’s huge.

"Fierce little Omega, aren’t you?" There’s approval in his voice and something else that makes my skin tingle. "But you need to work on your timing."

"My timing’s fine." I blow a strand of hair from my face. "You’re just unnaturally quick."

"Years of practice, sugar." His thumb finds my wrist and resumes its maddening circles. "And natural talent."

"You’re pretty comfortable throwing your weight around, aren’t you, Alpha?"

He tenses slightly at the title, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second.

"Only when necessary." He sounds edgy, and perhaps that should worry me, but instead, heat curls in my belly. "And only with those who can handle it."

"Fine, now get off," I say.

"That move," he says after a moment. "Where did you learn it?"

"My brother. He only taught me a few small things." The admission slips out before I can stop it.

His weight shifts slightly, his thighs pressing against me, held tightly in place. "He did well teaching you that, but it needs more honing. The execution has to be perfect, or,"—he demonstrates by tightening his hold again—"this happens."

I wince, hating that he has to prove his point.

Finally, he releases me, rising to his feet. He extends his hand to help me up, but I knock it away, pushing myself up on my own. Our gazes meet, and there’s something like appreciation in his steel-gray irises.

I brush grass from my clothes, pretending my skin isn’t still tingling where he touched me. His stare follows my movements, that same intensity from earlier leaving me breathing heavily. The air feels too thick suddenly. I need a distraction, anything to break this moment before I do something stupid like step closer.

"What were you doing outside last night?" The question tumbles out. "I saw you from the library window."

One of his eyebrows arches. "Some nights..." He looks toward the woods, jaw tight. "Sleep isn’t an option. My mind gets stuckin mission mode. In the hunt. In places I can’t escape. Have to get it out of my system somehow."

"That sounds exhausting."

"I’ve long ago accepted that I’m broken." His eyes meet mine, hard and distant. "Better you focus on training."

"Sure thing, Captain Broody." I force lightness into my voice, trying to break the tension. "Though if we’re focusing purely on training, you should know your left side telegraphs your moves." I have no idea in truth, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He blinks, and I can’t pick his expression, but it’s not joy. Good. "That so?" There’s a dangerous edge to his voice now. "Then let’s try something more challenging. Head into the woods."

"Wait, what?"

"We’re going to do a mock pursuit exercise." His eyes gleam with something predatory. "Let’s see how well you can apply what you’ve learned."

"Are you serious? We barely started, and I don’t?—"

"Ten." He starts counting down, and there’s nothing playful about his expression now. "Nine."

"Logan, this is insane?—"

---