Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 72

‘Yes.”

Chapter 72

A lie. I wasn’t ready.

The morning was cold and smelled of wet trees.

I stood in the center of the field. Usually, the training ground was loud and crowded, but Nathan had changed hat. One look from him was enough to make everyone leave. He cleared a huge circle in the dirt just for us.

I could feel the rest of the pack watching from the edges of the woods. They were quiet, whispering and staring at ne. They wanted to know why I was the only one standing next to the Alpha.

I forced my feet to move, taking that first heavy step forward.

“Good,” Nathan said.

I heard the shift of his boots on the dirt. He moved slowly, deliberately–like someone who knew exactly how

nuch space he owned.

“Let’s start with the basics.”

He was standing a few feet away, his posture loose, almost bored. It was the kind of confidence that felt like an

nsult.

“Hit me.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You want to get stronger, don’t you?” His gaze sharpened, cutting through the morning mist. “Then hit me first.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not waiting for anything.”

“Then prove it.”

I lunged. I was fast, but he was faster.

Before my fist could connect, he caught my wrist. In one fluid motion, he spun me around, pinning my back

gainst his chest.

He was too close.

“Slow,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against my ear. “You’re thinking too much. You’re telegraphing every

move.”

5:56 pm

His grip on my wrist was iron, but he didn’t squeeze.

Again

He let go. I spun instantly, not giving myself time to think. I swung. He blocked. I swung again.

But then, I felt it.

Something shifted deep inside me. A spark of energy that moved before my brain could catch up.

I pivoted, changing my angle at the last millisecond.

And for the first time, I connected.

My knuckles grazed his shoulder.

Nathan stopped. He looked down at the spot I’d hit, then back at me. A smali, dangerous smile pulled at the

corner of his mouth.

“There it is.”

My lungs burned as I fought for air. “I hit you.”

Almost.”

He took a step toward me, closing the distance until the world became nothing but the scent of cold air and the

warmth radiating from him.

“But you’re open right here.”

His fingers brushed against my side. I flinched–hard. It was a reflex, a sudden flash of memory. Other hands. Cold

hands. I stumbled back, my boots scuffing the dirt.

Emily.”

My breath came in ragged shudders. “I’m fine.”

Another lie.

He stepped back immediately, putting a wide, respectful distance between us. He didn’t crowd me.

But he didn’t leave, either.

“You don’t have to push yourself faster than you’re ready to go,” he said quietly.

I looked at him, my vision finally clearing. “No.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I have to.”

He went still. I took a step toward him–this time, of my own choice.

“I don’t want there to be a next time where someone…” My voice cracked, but I forced the words out. “…where someone is strong enough to hold me down.”

The silence was heavy. Nathan nodded slowly, acknowledging the weight of what I’d said.

“Then listen.”

He approached again.

“You aren’t weak,” he said, his voice barely a murmur. “You just don’t realize what you’re capable of yet.”

He raised his hand. Slowly. I froze, my muscles tensed to run, but I stayed. He stopped just a fraction of an inch

‘rom my skin.

“There’s always a choice,” he said.

A long pause.

“To strike.”

His fingers were so close.

“Or to trust.”

My heart was drumming so loudly I was certain he could hear it. I reached out, my own hand shaking slightly, and caught his wrist.

I was the one who made the contact.

“I choose to fight,” I whispered.

Control.

He looked at me, and something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t the look of a teacher anymore. It was

uriosity. Focus.

“Good,” he said softly.

Then, even quieter:

“Dangerously good.”

I let out a long breath. For the first time, I felt it—not the cold, sharp edge of fear, but power. And him. He was so

:lose.

I realized I was still holding his wrist. I hadn’t let go, and he hadn’t tried to pull away. He just watched me, as if he\ were seeing a completely different person.

“Alright,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Again.”

We reset. This time, my movement felt different. Fluid. I didn’t hesitate; I didn’t give him a warning. I lunged.

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