Chapter 87: Real Training (I)
Rosalie:
The next morning began like every other morning for the past week - far earlier than any sane person should willingly wake up.
The alarm rang before dawn, and though every muscle in my body protested after yesterday’s busy day at the bookstore, I still forced myself out of bed.
It had already been eight days since Eiden and Zaiden had started training me. Up until now, my entire life had revolved around running. Running through forests. Running uphill. Running until my lungs burned and my legs trembled.
Every single morning I had silently cursed Eiden for believing an hour of running qualified as "basic training." Yet somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, my body had started changing. I no longer collapsed onto the porch steps gasping for air after every session. My breathing recovered faster. My legs no longer felt like jelly after every uphill climb. Though I still wasn’t anywhere close to matching either of the two men, I was undeniably stronger than the weak woman who had first arrived at Eiden’s house eight mornings ago.
Today’s run, however, ended much sooner than expected.
When Eiden finally slowed to a stop after what I guessed was only twenty minutes, I almost looked around in confusion, wondering whether something had happened. Had I accidentally taken a wrong route? Were we stopping because of some emergency? But both men looked perfectly calm.
Zaiden, who had effortlessly kept pace beside us the entire run, merely folded his arms while watching Eiden with quiet interest, almost as though he already knew what was coming.
I remained silent despite my curiosity. By now, I had learned one thing about Eiden’s training methods - he always had a reason. If he hadn’t explained something yet, it simply meant he planned to do so later.
"Stretch first," Eiden instructed, gesturing toward the small clearing surrounded by towering pine trees.
Golden rays of the rising sun filtered through the branches above us, painting shifting patterns across the forest floor while cool morning air carried the scent of damp earth and wildflowers.
I quietly followed every movement he demonstrated. Neck. Shoulders. Arms. Back. Legs. Ankles. The warm-up felt far more thorough than usual, and by the time we finished, every muscle in my body felt loose and ready. Still, I had no idea why today was different.
Eiden finally smiled.
"I think," he said, dusting his hands together lightly, "it’s time to stop only running."
I blinked.
"...What?"
His smile widened ever so slightly as he continued, "Today, your real training begins."
For reasons I couldn’t explain, excitement immediately replaced my confusion. ’Real training’ - those two simple words made my heart beat a little faster. Until now I had only been preparing my body. Finally... I was going to learn something.
Eiden stepped a few paces away before turning back toward me. "Strength alone doesn’t keep someone alive," he began calmly. "Speed helps. Endurance helps. But technique..." His blue eyes met mine steadily. "...technique allows someone much weaker to defeat someone much stronger."
He bent slightly, demonstrating a simple defensive stance before motioning for me to copy him. "I’m not going to teach you flashy moves. Those belong in movies. I’m going to teach you how to survive."
I nodded seriously. Every trace of excitement became determination.
He started with the basics - how to stand, where to place my weight, how to keep my balance even if someone shoved me unexpectedly.
Something that looked incredibly simple became surprisingly difficult the moment I actually attempted it. My feet naturally shifted into bad positions without me realizing it. My shoulders tensed. My elbows locked. Every few seconds Eiden patiently corrected another mistake before asking me to try again. Not once did he sound frustrated. Instead, every correction came with quiet encouragement that somehow made me want to improve rather than feel embarrassed.
Then came the first actual technique.
"If someone stronger grabs your wrist," he explained, gently reaching for my arm, "don’t fight their strength."
His fingers wrapped around my wrist firmly. The simple contact immediately sent an annoying little spark racing through the mate bond.
Not now...
I mentally begged both my body and my wolf.
Please... not now.
"Move with the weakest point of the grip," he continued, completely professional as he demonstrated the escape. "Then strike."
He showed me the movement once. Twice. Three times. Then asked me to repeat it.
I failed spectacularly. Instead of twisting correctly, I somehow lost my balance entirely. Fortunately, Eiden caught me before I could fall backward.
"There," he said gently, steadying me by my waist for only as long as necessary. "Again."
His hands disappeared immediately afterward. Nothing about his touch carried even the slightest intimate intention. Unfortunately, my body refused to care. Heat spread through my face before I could stop it. My heartbeat became noticeably faster. And the mate bond purred contentedly inside my chest while my wolf stirred with unmistakable interest.
Focus, Rosalie. Focus.
The next several attempts went... only slightly better.
Whenever my posture became wrong, Eiden simply stepped behind me and adjusted my shoulders. When my footing shifted incorrectly, he nudged my ankle into the proper position with his own foot. When my elbow bent too far outward, his hand lightly guided it back.
Each correction lasted only seconds. Each touch remained completely respectful. Each one somehow made my concentration ten times worse.
At one point I became so distracted by how close he was that I completely forgot which direction I was supposed to turn, earning a quiet chuckle from somewhere behind us.
I turned.
Zaiden.
He still stood exactly where he had been since the beginning, arms folded comfortably across his broad chest while silently observing the lesson.
Our eyes met, and immediately, I forgot what little concentration I had left.
Wonderful.
Now both of them were making my heart misbehave.
As though sensing exactly what had happened, Zaiden unfolded his arms and finally started walking toward us with his usual measured steps.
"You keep dropping your center of gravity too late," he observed calmly.
"I know," I admitted sheepishly.
He stopped directly beside me, and without a word, one large hand settled lightly against my upper back while the other briefly rested near my hip.
"Bend here." He gently adjusted my posture. "Relax your shoulders."
Another small correction.
"Good."
Just like Eiden, every movement remained entirely focused on training. Professional. Controlled. And brief. Yet the warmth of his hands seeped straight through the thin fabric of my training clothes, sending another ridiculous wave of awareness rushing through me.
Moon Goddess...
How was I supposed to survive this every morning?
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