POV: Elias Beaumont
Elias hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. Above him, Amara stood with her hand extended, tiny blue flames dancing around her fingers.
"Too slow," she said, not helping him up. "Again."
He got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side where she'd struck him. Three hours of training, and she'd knocked him down at least twenty times. His wolf growled inside, not used to being bested—especially by someone smaller.
But Amara wasn't just anyone. She was his true mate. And she was becoming stronger by the hour.
"This time, don't hold back," she told him, going into fighting stance again.
"I'm not holding back," he lied.
Amara's eyes flashed. "Yes, you are. I can feel it through the link."
The bond. The thin, damaged thread linking them that he could now sense all the time. It whispered her feelings to him—her anger, her fear, her purpose. But never forgiveness. Not yet.
