The training ring had seen every kind of fight.
Pups rolling in the dirt, nipping each other’s ears. Betas testing new recruits. Alphas settling challenges. Lovers resolving arguments with fists instead of words.
Juno had bled here. Laughed here. Thrown Kellan on his back more times than she could count.
She’d never stepped into it with her mate before.
Certainly not under orders.
“You look like you’re going to your execution,” Riven said quietly, falling into step beside her as they crossed the packed-earth courtyard.
“You said that about the ritual,” she replied. “You need new material.”
He made a face. “I work with what I know,” he said. “Death. Pits. Terrible plans.”
She snorted despite the knot in her stomach.
Wolves ringed the training ground — some leaning on the fence, some perched on posts, some sprawling on the ground. Word had spread fast: Lysa was making Juno and the ex-rogue spar.
Mira sat cross-legged on a boulder, muffin in hand. Kellan straddled the fence nearby, arms folded, jaw tight.
Lysa and Corin stood at the far end of the ring, near the weapon racks. No weapons lay out today. Just bare dirt and sharpened stares.
“Rules are simple,” Lysa said as they approached. “No shifting. No claws. No going for permanent damage. You land one good hit, step back. Reset. You get carried away, Corin knocks you both flat.”
Corin cracked her knuckles. “Happily,” she said.
Mira muttered, “Hot,” under her breath.
Juno resisted the urge to flip her off.
“You’re sure about this?” Riven asked Lysa, low. “Last time I lost control in a ring, three wolves needed new throats.”
“Last time, you had a god on your leash,” Lysa said, just as low. “Now you have me. And her.” She jerked her chin at Juno. “You want to know the difference? Prove it.”
Riven’s jaw flexed. “Yes, Alpha,” he said.
Lysa stepped back, folding her arms. “Begin when you’re ready,” she said. “Not a second before.”
Juno rolled her shoulders, feeling the stretch of muscle and scar. She’d put in extra hours yesterday just to burn off the nervous energy. Her legs ached pleasantly.
Riven stood across from her, barefoot in the dirt, shirt sleeves rolled up. The scar at his neck was still a thin red line, the skin around it slightly raised.
Her gaze snagged on it.
Her wolf growled softly.
*Ours now,* her wolf said. *Not hers.*
*Not yet,* Juno reminded her.
They circled.
For a second, it felt like the night in the mating circle — the rest of the world blurring, focus narrowing.
Except now there was no god in the trees.
Just their own choices.
“First to three clean hits?” Juno suggested, sliding into her usual ready stance — knees bent, weight forward, hands up.
“First to concede or puke,” Riven countered. “Whichever comes first.”
Her mouth twitched. “You say that like you didn’t almost pass out from one muffin yesterday,” she said.
“That was a sugar crash,” he protested. “Entirely different.”
“Stop flirting and move your feet,” Corin called.
Juno lunged.
Not full speed.
Testing.
Riven dipped to the side, weight shifting with surprising grace for someone who’d spent three years in chains. She’d seen him move as a wolf — fluid, lethal — but his human balance was different. A little more cautious. A little more…thoughtful.
She feinted left, then kicked low.
He blocked with his shin, the jolt thudding up her leg.
“Ow,” she muttered.
“Should’ve worn padding,” he said mildly.
“You’re not wearing any,” she pointed out.
He smiled. “You can check if you want.”
Heat shot up her neck. “Focus,” she snapped.
He moved.
Fast.
She ducked just in time to avoid a fist aimed at her shoulder, stepping into his space instead of back. Their chests brushed. For a split second, their faces were inches apart, breath mingling.
Her heart hammered.
His eyes darkened.
She froze.
He didn’t.
He twisted, catching her wrist, using her forward momentum to pivot and flip her.
She hit the ground hard enough that the breath whooshed out of her lungs.
The world went white around the edges for a second.
Pain bloomed.
Wolves around the ring whooped.
“Nice,” Ivo shouted. “Do it again!”
Kellan swore under his breath.
Riven stepped back immediately, hands raised, expression torn between satisfaction and alarm.
“You okay?” he asked quickly.
Juno sucked air back into her lungs, teeth gritted.
“I’m fine,” she ground out, pushing herself up. “Enjoy that one. You’re not getting another.”
“First hit’s on the board,” Lysa called. “Reset.”
Juno dusted dirt off her palms and glared at Riven.
He shrugged, unrepentant. “You froze,” he said. “Not my fault you get flustered when I breathe on you.”
Her cheeks burned. “You elbow-shifted into my space like a—”
“Like a wolf in a fight?” he suggested.
She bared her teeth. “Again.”
They circled.
This time, she kept more distance.
She watched his feet, not his eyes. He led with his left — interesting. He favored his right leg slightly — old injury? Or the ankle that had worn the chain?
She tested it with a quick step in and a tap to his calf.
He hissed.
Chain-ankle.
She logged it away.
He swept her leg in response.
She hopped over it, but barely.
They traded jabs.
He was stronger than Kellan, but less trained in this kind of sparring. His strikes were economical, aimed more at disabling than scoring points.
She used that.
Feinted high.
Went low.
Her fist buried in his ribs.
He grunted, stepping back.
“One-one,” Corin called.
Riven winced. “I felt that,” he muttered.
“Good,” Juno said. “Maybe you’ll stop talking.”
He laughed, breathless.
They went again.
Two.
Three.
Sweat slicked Juno’s temples despite the cold.
Riven’s hair stuck to his forehead.
The ring of wolves around them had fallen mostly silent now, eyes intent.
They were past show and into something else.
A rhythm.
Juno fell into it.
Her body remembered other sparring matches. Other partners. Kellan’s light-footedness. Corin’s brutal precision.
Riven was different.
He moved like someone who’d learned to fight in survival mode, not in training.
No wasted motion. No flourishes.
She had to adapt.
She liked adapting.
He ducked under one of her punches and popped back up too fast for her to reset. His shoulder slammed into her chest, knocking her sideways.
She rolled, came up on one knee, and launched herself at his legs.
They went down together this time, tangled.
He landed half on top of her.
The air rushed out of her lungs again.
Their bodies lined up.
Her thigh between his legs.
His forearm braced by her head.
His chest pressed to hers.
Heat roared through her.
The bond flared.
Everything went very, very still.
No one around the ring made a sound.
Riven’s breath stuttered.
His pupils blew wide.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
The word ghosted over her lips.
Her fingers curled in the dirt.
Every nerve in her body screamed to close the last inch between their mouths.
Her wolf snarled, *Yes. Bite. Claim.*
Her human brain rattled its cage.
*Rule three,* it reminded her frantically. *No stupid adrenaline kisses. No—*
“Off,” Corin snapped, stepping forward a fraction.
The sharpness of her voice cut through the haze.
Riven jerked as if burned.
He pushed himself up and off her so fast he nearly fell sideways.
Juno rolled away, scrambling to her feet.
Her knees shook.
Her face felt like it was on fire.
Silence hung.
Then Sari — Juno’s aunt — called, “Hit’s on him. Two-one,” in a tone that dared anyone to make a comment about anything else.
Laughter broke the tension.
Nervous. Too loud.
Juno forced air into her lungs.
“Again,” she croaked.
“No,” Lysa said sharply.
Juno whipped her head toward her.
Lysa’s expression was...complicated.
“You’ve both proved the point,” she said. “You can hit each other without tearing each other’s throats out. That’s enough for today.”
Juno bristled. “I can keep—”
“Juno,” Lysa cut in, softer. “Enough.”
The alpha voice threaded under the word.
Not a command.
A warning.
Juno’s wolf subsided, ears flattening.
She exhaled.
“Fine,” she muttered.
Riven scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping sweat.
His cheeks were flushed.
He looked at Juno.
In front of all these eyes, he didn’t reach for the bond.
Didn’t send her some flippant thought.
He just met her gaze, steady.
“You good?” he asked.
She swallowed.
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
He managed a half-smile. “Ask me when my ribs stop vibrating,” he said.
Ivo clapped loudly. “Well, that was hot,” he announced. “Who’s up next? Alpha? Soren? We can sell tickets.”
Kellan hopped off the fence, face carefully blank. “I’m going to go run the ridge,” he said, voice clipped. “Before I start punching people for saying ‘hot’ around my friends.”
Mira slid off her rock, eyes wide and bright. “I need to write this in my journal,” she whispered.
Juno groaned.
Lysa stepped into the ring, scattering the gawkers with a look. “Show’s over,” she said. “Anyone still standing here in ten seconds is cleaning snow off the training weapons.”
The ring emptied fast.
Soon, it was just the four of them — Juno, Riven, Lysa, Corin.
Corin blew out a long breath. “You two,” she said. “Are going to make my job very interesting.”
“Sorry,” Juno muttered.
“Don’t be,” Corin said. “Better a messy bond that works than a pretty one that breaks the first time someone pushes.”
She gave Riven a pointed look. “You did well,” she said. “Pulled back when you needed to. Didn’t freeze when it counted.”
He blinked. “Thanks,” he said, the word awkward in his mouth.
Lysa studied them both.
Her expression was unreadable.
Finally, she said, “You’re both on the next cave patrol.”
Juno straightened. “When?” she demanded.
“Three days,” Lysa said. “We’re mapping the first level of the old eastern shaft. The witches think there’s a thin spot there. I want you two with the team.”
Riven’s stomach dipped.
“Those caves were sealed for a reason,” Corin said. “Collapsed years ago. We’re opening them under controlled conditions. If the Maw has a mouth anywhere near our den, it’s there.”
“Perfect,” Riven muttered. “From sparring into the pit. Great training schedule.”
Juno felt a thrill under the dread.
Fighting something concrete — even if it was stone and shadow — felt better than waiting.
“Who else?” she asked.
“Kellan,” Lysa said. “Mira. Ivo. One of Soren’s cave-rats. Bram’s nephew.” She smirked faintly. “If the Maw doesn’t kill him, the low ceilings might knock some sense into him.”
Corin snorted.
Riven’s pulse picked up.
Another cave.
Another chance for the Maw to whisper.
Another chance to bite back.
His fingers curled into fists.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”
Juno’s heart thudded.
Sparring with him in a ring where Corin could yank them apart was one thing.
Going into the dark with him, both of them raw and wired, was another entirely.
Her wolf lifted her head, baring her teeth.
*Good,* her wolf said. *We go where it hurts. Where it smells like fear. That’s where she hides.*
Juno nodded, more to herself than anyone else.
“Three days,” she said. “We’ll be ready.”
Lysa’s gaze lingered on her.
“See that you are,” she said.
Then she left them to catch their breath.
Alone again in the ring, Juno and Riven stood facing each other.
The dirt between them was scuffed and marked with their prints.
“So,” he said eventually. “You almost kissed me.”
Her face flamed. “You were on top of me,” she retorted. “You *arranged* the almost.”
He huffed a laugh. “You didn’t exactly shove me off,” he said.
“Corin beat me to it,” she muttered.
Silence.
Something like amusement and regret twined in the bond.
He stepped closer.
Not dangerously close.
Just near enough that she could feel his heat again.
“We’re going into a cave together in three days,” he said quietly. “There will be plenty of stupid adrenaline moments. Plenty of times we’ll...be on top of each other.”
Her pulse jumped.
He touched her forearm — a light, brief contact.
“We wait,” he said. “Until it’s not about that.”
Her throat tightened.
“Okay,” she said.
He smiled, small and real.
“Good,” he said. “Because when it *isn’t* about that anymore...”
His eyes darkened.
Her breath hitched.
“What?” she asked, unable to stop herself.
His smile turned wicked, for a heartbeat.
“Then I’m not stopping,” he said.
Heat roared through her.
She swallowed.
“Good,” she said.
Then she turned away before she could grab him by the front of his shirt and forget every rule they’d made.
Three days.
Caves.
Teeth.
And maybe, someday, if they survived, a mark of their own.
But first, there were shadows to map.
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