Chapter 29

[ 711 words ]

Teacher

29: 29.

Teacher Ronan

The forest breathes around us.

I feel it before I see it—the slow inhale of wind through pine needles, the damp exhale of earth rich with decay and life tangled together.

It settles into my lungs, into my bones.

My wolf stirs, restless, alert.

She’s struggling, he murmurs, voice low and edged with instinct.

Not unexpected, I mutter under my breath.

She’s still new.

I inhale her scent, wild and fresh.

God, she smells good.

No good is too simple a word.

Unearthly.

Hypnotizing.

Mine.

The fact that Barric and Theo have already gotten to taste her makes me want to weep for missing the show.

Even just watching would have been a pleasure.

But I know she might need more time than the others.

My level of dominance is a lot for anyone to get used to, and now she can feel the full force of it.

Or at least her wolf can.

Aria stands ten feet ahead of me, shoulders tense, eyes squeezed shut like she’s bracing for impact.

Which, in a way, she is.

“Stop fighting it,” I say, louder this time.

Her eyes snap open, irritation flashing.

“I’m not fighting it.”

“You are,” I reply, crossing my arms.

“You’re trying to control it before you even understand it.”

She huffs, brushing a loose curl out of her face.

“Easy for you to say. You’ve had your whole life to figure this out.”

I take a step closer, boots quiet against the forest floor.

“And you think I didn’t go through the same thing?”

Not like her, my wolf adds.

She’s stronger.

I ignore him, but he’s not wrong.

Aria’s senses are raw—wide open in a way that most shifters take years to reach.

Theo and Barric barely got her through the basics before she started spiraling.

Overwhelmed.

Frustrated.

Dangerous.

That’s why she’s here with me now.

“Close your eyes,” I tell her.

She hesitates.

“Aria.”

Her jaw tightens, but she obeys.

The moment her eyes shut, I feel it—the shift in the air around her.

Like a door creaking open just enough to let everything flood in.

Her breathing stutters.

“Tell me what you hear,” I say quietly.

“At once?” she shoots back.

“Because it’s—”

“Everything,” I finish for her.

“Yeah. That’s the point.”

A branch snaps somewhere to our left.

Farther off, a bird takes flight.

The wind shifts again, carrying the scent of water, moss, something small and alive scurrying beneath leaves.

Her hands curl into fists.

“It’s too loud,” she whispers.

I step behind her, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her back.

Close enough that if she leans even slightly, she’ll touch me.

My wolf perks up immediately.

Careful, he warns, though there’s a hint of amusement there.

You’re the one who told her to focus.

“I know,” I mutter.

“What?” Aria asks.

“Nothing. Focus.”

I reach out, hesitating just a fraction before placing my hands lightly on her shoulders.

She tenses under my touch, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Don’t try to hear everything,” I tell her, voice lower now.

“Pick one thing.”

Her breathing is uneven.

“I can’t.”

“You can.

You’re just panicking.”

“I’m not panicking.”

I lean closer, my mouth near her ear.

“Your heart says otherwise.”

She sucks in a sharp breath.

For a second, neither of us moves.

You’re distracting her, my wolf points out.

You’re enjoying this, I shoot back.

He doesn’t deny it.

“Pick one sound,” I repeat, softer this time.

“Anything.”

A long pause stretches between us.

Then—

“The leaves,” she says finally.

“They’re… moving.”

“Good,” I say.

“Stay there. Just that.”

Her shoulders loosen slightly beneath my hands.

“That’s the wind,” she continues, more уверенно now.

“It’s shifting from the east.”

A small smile tugs at my mouth.

“Not bad.”

“I didn’t say it was good.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She huffs, but there’s less tension in it now.

“Now add something else,” I say.

“One more.”

Her brow furrows, but she nods.

“The… water,” she says after a moment.

“There’s a stream nearby.”

“Where?”

She turns her head slightly, listening harder.

“South.

Maybe… fifty yards?”

“Forty,” I correct.

Her eyes open, and she turns to face me fully now, a spark of triumph in her gaze.

“That’s close.”

“Close counts,” I admit.

For a second, we just stand there, too aware of how close we are.

Then she steps back.

The moment breaks.

“Okay,” she says, rolling her shoulders.

“Hearing isn’t completely impossible. What’s next?”

I tilt my head.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Or maybe I’m just a fast learner.”

Confident, my wolf notes.

I like it.

“Overconfident,” I counter.

Her lips curve into a smirk.

“You sound nervous.”

I bark out a short laugh.

“You wish.”

She steps closer again, closing the distance I’d just created.

“What? Afraid I’ll outdo you?”

My wolf growls softly, low enough that only I can feel it.

Careful, he warns again.

She’s pushing you.

Good.

I like when she pushes.

“Try me,” I say.

Her eyes flash.

“Fine. What’s next, teacher?”

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