Updated Dec 29, 2025 • ~8 min read
POV: NOVA
Three days after the disastrous dinner, Dorian dragged me to the training grounds.
“You need to learn vampire combat,” he said, handing me a practice sword.
“I know wolf combat.”
“Which won’t help when you’re outnumbered by vampires who move faster than you can track.” He took up his own blade. “Humor me.”
The training grounds were massive—carved stone, weapons racks lining the walls, practice dummies that had seen centuries of use. A few vampires were already training, stopping to watch as the general prepared to spar with his wolf bride.
“Basic stance,” Dorian instructed, falling into position. “Vampires rely on speed and strength. You’ll need to compensate with strategy.”
I copied his stance, feeling awkward. This wasn’t how wolves fought—we relied on pack tactics, overwhelming force, teeth and claws.
“Attack me,” he said.
I lunged. He sidestepped effortlessly, blade tapping my ribs.
“Dead,” he said. “Too slow. Again.”
We went through the motions—me attacking, him deflecting, correcting my form with clinical precision. It was frustrating. Every move I made, he countered before I’d completed it.
“You’re holding back,” I accused after the tenth failed attack.
“I’m going at about quarter speed.” He circled me. “Vampires fight faster than this. You need to learn to read intent, not just motion.”
“How?”
“Watch my eyes. My shoulders. Small tells before I move.” He demonstrated—a subtle shift of weight before he struck. “There. See it?”
I did. Barely.
We continued, and slowly—painfully slowly—I started to see the patterns. The way he shifted before attacking. The micro-expressions that telegraphed his next move.
By hour two, I was sweating and exhausted while he looked barely winded.
“Again,” he said.
“I need a break.”
“Vampires won’t give you a break. Again.”
Something in me snapped. I was tired, frustrated, done being the student who couldn’t keep up.
My wolf surged forward—not a full shift, but close. Claws extended. Senses sharpened. Strength flooded my limbs.
I attacked with supernatural speed, no longer purely human.
Dorian blocked, but I was faster now. We exchanged blows, his vampire speed meeting my wolf-enhanced reflexes. The practice swords rang against each other.
He pushed harder. So did I.
We moved across the training ground in a blur, neither giving quarter. I could feel my wolf reveling in the challenge, in having an opponent who could match her.
Then Dorian did something unexpected—he pinned me against the wall, blade at my throat, his body pressed against mine.
“Yield,” he said.
We were inches apart. Close enough to see gold flecks in his dark eyes. Close enough to feel his cool breath on my face. The mate bond flared, screaming at the contact.
My wolf didn’t want to yield. Wanted to fight, to win, to prove dominance.
So she did what wolves do when cornered: she struck.
I shifted partially—enough for fangs and claws—and bit his shoulder. Hard.
Dorian hissed in pain, jerking back. I used the opening to spin us, slamming him into the wall with my forearm across his throat.
Blood ran from the bite wound on his shoulder. My blood heated with the victory.
“Yield,” I growled, voice layered with wolf harmonics.
The watching vampires had gone silent. Attacking the general was death. Everyone knew that.
Except Dorian was smiling.
“Good,” he said. “Your wolf has teeth. Use them.”
“What?”
He reversed our positions in a blur of vampire speed, but this time when he pinned me, it was different. Not threatening. Almost… playful.
“You were holding back, trying to fight like a vampire. Don’t. Fight like a wolf. Use every advantage you have—claws, fangs, partial shifts. Vampires expect certain tactics. Surprise them.”
He released me, stepping back.
“Again,” he said. “But this time, don’t hesitate. Fight like your life depends on it.”
This time, I didn’t hold back. I let my wolf guide the combat—partial shifts, feints, strikes from angles vampires wouldn’t expect. It was chaotic, vicious, nothing like the formal swordplay he’d been teaching.
And it worked.
I actually landed hits. Made him work for his defenses.
When we finally stopped, both breathing hard (him from exertion, me from exhaustion), I realized the other vampires were staring.
“The wolf fights well,” one said, almost respectful.
“For an animal,” another added with disdain.
Dorian rounded on them, eyes gone black. “Anyone who wants to test whether she fights like an animal is welcome to challenge her. I promise you won’t enjoy the experience.”
They scattered.
He turned back to me, offering water. “You did well. Much better than I expected.”
“You let me win.”
“I let you learn. There’s a difference.” He examined the bite wound on his shoulder—already healing. “Though you really committed to that bite.”
“You told me to use my teeth.”
“I did. Didn’t expect you to take it so literally.”
Was he… flirting? Through the bond, I felt amusement and something warmer. Something that made my wolf preen with satisfaction.
Dangerous. This was dangerous.
“I should get back,” I said, retreating toward the exit.
“Tomorrow, same time?” he called after me.
“Fine. But next time, don’t hold back as much.”
His laugh followed me out. “Be careful what you wish for, little wolf.”
I made it halfway to our chambers before realizing: that was the first time we’d interacted without the weight of the massacre between us. For a few hours, we’d just been sparring partners. Maybe even something approaching friends.
The thought should have bothered me more than it did.
The next morning, I woke to Dorian already gone and a note on the table.
Good morning. Training at noon. Kira has a message for you. -D
Kira arrived with breakfast, looking nervous.
“What message?” I asked.
“Your pack. Mara sent word through the messenger network. She wants to see you.”
My heart jumped. “Is everyone okay?”
“Fine. She just says it’s been a month since you arrived, and she wants to check on you. Make sure the vampires are treating you well.”
A month. Had it really been that long?
“Can I go? Will Dorian allow it?”
“I already asked. He said yes, as long as Viktor escorts you. For safety.”
Two days later, I stood at the edge of wolf territory, waiting.
Then they appeared—my pack, all twenty-three of them, looking healthier than I’d seen them in years. The children had color in their cheeks. The elders stood straighter. Even the warriors looked rested.
“Nova!” Kai, the six-year-old, launched himself at me. I caught him, spinning him around.
“Look at you! You’ve grown!”
Mara approached more cautiously, green eyes searching my face. “You look different.”
“Bad different?”
“Strong different.” She pulled me into a fierce hug. “How are you? Really?”
“Alive. Fighting. Making enemies and burning down systems.” I smiled. “The usual.”
We walked apart from the others, Viktor giving us space while keeping watch.
“Tell me everything,” Mara demanded.
I did. The feeding rooms, the council dinner, the training, the complex reality of living among vampires who were both monsters and people.
“And the general?” she asked carefully. “How is he treating you?”
“Like…” I struggled for words. “Like he’s trying to earn something he knows he’ll never have. He’s careful, respectful. Sleeps on a chaise so I can have the bed. Supports me when I do reckless things. Makes me train so I can defend myself.”
“Do you trust him?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes. Maybe.” I looked at my pack sister. “The bond makes it complicated. I feel his guilt, his genuine remorse. But that doesn’t erase what he did.”
“No. It doesn’t.” Mara squeezed my hand. “But Nova—you don’t have to forgive him to build something with him. Sometimes survival is enough.”
“Is it though?”
“You saved us. All of us. We have food, shelter, protection. The children are thriving. That’s more than we’ve had in twenty years.” She met my eyes. “Don’t let guilt about surviving your sacrifice eat at you. You made a choice. Own it.”
We talked for hours—about pack news, about fortress politics, about everything and nothing. When it was time to leave, I hugged each pack member, memorizing their scents, their laughs, their alive-ness.
“Come back soon,” Kai said, clinging to my leg.
“I will. I promise.”
On the ride back to the fortress, Viktor was uncharacteristically quiet. Finally: “You really care about them.”
“They’re my family.”
“And the general? Is he family too?”
I thought about Dorian—his careful respect, his terrible guilt, his determination to protect me even from himself.
“He’s… complicated,” I said finally.
“That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes either.”
Viktor smiled. “That’s more than I expected. A month ago, you would have said he was just your family’s murderer. Now he’s complicated. That’s progress.”
Was it? I wasn’t sure.
But as we rode back to the fortress, I thought about the training, the way Dorian had smiled when my wolf fought back, the careful distance he maintained despite the bond screaming to close it.
Maybe Viktor was right.
Maybe complicated was progress.
It was more than I’d thought possible.
And for now, maybe that was enough.
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