Page 29 of Pack Obsession

"Eight."

"God, you really are a psycho." I back toward the tree line, my heart pounding.

"Seven."

I turn and run, cursing under my breath. The woods envelop me in dappled shadows.

The forest is alive with sounds—birds calling, leaves rustling, branches creaking in the wind. I pause, pressing against a thick tree trunk, straining to distinguish any human movement among the natural chorus.

A twig snaps to my right. I whirl left. Another sound behind me… closer now. I spin, arm raised to block, but he’s already there.

Heart’s in my throat.

Logan catches my defensive move easily, using my own momentum to pin me against the rough bark of the tree. His body cages mine, one hand wrapped around my wrist, the other braced at my throat, just firm enough to keep me in place. I clutch his shirt in a fist at his chest.

"Dead," he whispers in my face. "If I was a real threat, you’d be dead."

I’m not thinking about threats or training anymore. I’m thinking about how his body feels pressed against mine, how his gaze has gone dark with something that isn’t just predatory instinct. How the danger rolling off him makes me want to run and stay all at once.

"Maybe I let you catch me," I breathe, not sure why I’m pushing him, playing with fire.

His laugh is low and rough. "No one lets me catch them, kitty. I’m just that good at hunting my prey."

"Kitty?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Mmm." His nose traces along my jaw, and I forget how to breathe. "Small, quick, thinks she’s fiercer than she is, but still just playing at being dangerous."

"Maybe I was wrong earlier," I manage to say. "Maybe you are broken. Who else enjoys terrorizing innocents in the woods?"

He grins, the expression pure predator. "Innocent? We both know better than that." His grip on my wrist tightens fractionally. "I’ve seen how you watch us. How you catalogue exits and weaknesses. Those aren’t innocent instincts."

"And what about how you watch me?"

The question hangs between us, electric and explosive. Hunger blooms in his eyes, along with conflict, as if he’s fighting the same battle I am—attraction versus common sense, desire versus all the reasons this is a bad idea. It seems to be a problem of mine with these Alphas.

"We should head back," he says finally, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t release me. "Sun’s getting higher. Heat will make training harder."

"Is that what we’re doing? Training?"

He releases my throat and brushes a leaf from my hair, the gentle gesture at odds with the tension in his body. Without a word, he steps back suddenly, leaving me cold despite the morning warmth.

"You’ve got enough complication and danger in your life right now without adding me to the mix. I told you, I’m broken."

I rub my wrist where I can still feel his grip, watching him retreat behind his professional mask.

"Bold of you to assume you’re the most dangerous thing in my life right now."

"No." His smile is sharp, humorless. "Bold of you to assume I’m not."

The walk back to the house is silent, charged with everything we’re not saying. With how a simple training session became something so much more intense, leaving me breathless. I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m not looking, his stare heavy and leaving my skin tingling.

When we reach the edge of the backyard, he turns to me. "Same time tomorrow. We’ll work on your tracking skills."

"Going to hunt me through the woods again?"

"Perhaps." For a moment, I see the predator beneath the soldier. "Tomorrow, you hunt me."

My mouth drops open.

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