The applause from the others, Lucien’s dramatic commentary, the sparkle of magic in the air… it all faded until it was just Roman and me. The only thing that felt real in a night full of make-believe.
When I finally stepped back, Roman’s eyes were on mine, and there was something there… something I wasn’t ready to name, but couldn’t deny. I smiled, and together we turned to face the pack, the trophy between us, the night still humming with all the things left unsaid.
Maggie
When I stepped into the kickboxing studio the next morning, I let my shoulders drop and breathed in the scent of rubber and sweat. I was still riding the high from the scavenger hunt the previous night and was ready to kick some serious ass.
The music was already thumping. Low bass. High energy. The smell of rubber mats, faint eucalyptus spray, and good old-fashioned sweat filled the air. This was my kind of aromatherapy.
This was my place. My serotonin sanctuary. A little warehouse gym with peeling paint and old equipment that never let me down. I came here to clear my head, burn through my anxiety, and if I was lucky, get out of my own mind long enough to breathe again.
I picked my favorite bag near the back and started rolling my wraps, grateful for the familiar ritual. Left hand first. Loop, wrap the wrist, back over the knuckles. Everything else could wait.
I’d barely made it to my second hand when I heard it.
That voice.
“Oh, hey Maggie. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
I stopped wrapping. Slowly, like my body needed a second to register that yes, God was indeed cruel, and no, I wasn’t getting a reprieve today.
I turned my head.
Seraphina. Wearing designer activewear so pristine it might’ve still had tags on it. Her makeup was flawless. Not a smudge of sweat in sight. She was already talking to the instructor, ponytail swishing as she adjusted it like she was shooting a campaign.
Did she even like kickboxing?
No. No, of course not. She was here for one reason only: To ruin my recreational life.
She glided over like a panther in three-hundred dollar sneakers, all confidence and polished teeth. “I thought I’d try something new,” she said, eyes sparkling with faux innocence. “Mind if I’m your partner today?”
I smiled. It was tight. Tense. The kind of smile you give someone right before a murder trial. “Sure. Why not.”
Apparently, I hated peace.
We started warm-ups, and I knew it was going to be hell within the first thirty seconds.
“Careful,” she chirped, correcting the angle of my wrist for the third time. “You’re flaring your elbow again. That can lead to injury.”
“I’m good,” I muttered, forcing my attention back to the drill.
She wasn’t done.
“You’re doing great,” she added, voice light and clear. “
For a human.
“
I inhaled. Held it. Let it go.
One punch. Two. Focus.
If I could just get through this class without murdering her, I’d count it as a win. But Seraphina never knew when to stop. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was the point.
“Careful,” she said again, loud enough for the front row to hear. “You’re leading with your hip. Roman always says proper form is everything, especially with his flexibility. You’ve noticed, right?”
My fist faltered mid-air. I gritted my teeth, forced a breath through my nose, and kept going.
Flexibility. Seriously? Was she out here bragging about Roman’s hip rotation? In public?
The next jab hit the pad harder than necessary. She didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did and was enjoying every second.
We transitioned into stretches. I took the mat. Closed my eyes. Tried to focus.
And then she leaned in. Too close.
“So…” she said, voice all syrup and curiosity, “how serious are you two? I mean, are you really together to mate or just playing house?”
I opened my eyes and glared at her. “That’s none of your business.”
She smiled, all satisfaction and subtle cruelty. “Roman’s business has always been my business.”
I almost lost it right there. But I didn’t, because the trainer clapped and called out the next drill-a series of escalating power kicks into a heavy bag held by your partner.
Seraphina grinned like this was a spa treatment. I strapped on my gloves, each tug of Velcro louder than it needed to be. She stood in front of the bag, hands in place, stance cocky and casual like I couldn’t possibly touch her.
Like she was invincible. Like she knew I’d fail.
But I didn’t feel like holding back anymore. Not after every passive-aggressive dig wrapped in a sugar-coated accent. Not after the endless reminders that I didn’t belong in his world.
I took a breath. Coiled.
And launched.
My shin cracked against the bag so hard the sound echoed across the gym. It wasn’t rage-it was precision. Purpose. Months of tension and insecurity distilled into perfect impact.
Seraphina stumbled. Her smug smile vanished as she staggered back and landed-hard-on her ass.
The gym went still for a half-beat. No music. No chatter. Just the quiet rustle of someone’s water bottle hitting the floor.
The trainer rushed over. “Whoa-okay, that’s probably enough for today.”
The trainer was still fussing over her as she got to her feet, brushing herself off with slow, deliberate motions like she wanted everyone to know she wasn’t rattled. Her cheeks were flushed, her ponytail sliding out of the scrunchie, but her eyes were locked on me.
“You know,” she said, voice carrying just enough to snag the attention of a few eavesdroppers, “Roman’s fun now. I’m sure he makes you feel special. But give it time. He’ll get bored. He always does.”
She smiled then-not wide, not smug, but small and cutting. It slid under my skin and stayed there.
I held her gaze for a beat, let her see every ounce of the I-don’t-believe-you in my eyes, then turned and walked out.
The cold air outside hit me like a slap, but I barely felt it. My chest was still heaving, adrenaline lighting me up like a fuse. But beneath the chaos, there wasn’t guilt. There wasn’t shame.
There was relief.
Because I hadn’t played her game. I hadn’t stooped to her level. I hadn’t called her names or clawed back with words.
I’d let my body speak for me.
More Kickass Werewolf Reads
Dive into our collection of free werewolf romance novels—where fierce Alphas, daring heroines, and heart-stopping twists await. Every story burns with forbidden desire, loyalty, and destiny. Don’t wait—here’s a world where love bites hard and nothing is stronger than the call of the mate.
Leave a Reply