Chapter 14: The Bitter Taste of Jealousy (The Training Course)
The Academy's gymnasium was a cavern of cold stone and sweat, but for me, it felt like a cage. Commander Hroth had blown his silver whistle, signaling the start of the "Obstacle Duo Course."
On the left side of the arena, I stood with Liya. She was talking, her voice a melodic drone about "celestial alignment" and "vampire precision," but I didn't hear a single word. My entire existence was narrowed down to a single point on the right side of the gym: Wolfie and Marcus.
"Ready, Wolfie?" Marcus asked. He had stripped off his outer shirt, showing off his bulky, tan werewolf physique. He was sweating already, his muscles rippling in a way that felt like an insult to me.
"Ready," Wolfie said, her voice tight. She glanced at me, her eyes lingering on my face, but Marcus intentionally stepped into her line of sight, blocking her view of her husband.
"Focus on me, Wolfie," Marcus whispered, loud enough for my vampire ears to catch. "I'm the one who can keep up with you. Not the city boy."
The Vampire Stillness inside me shattered like dropped glass. In its place was a dark, pulsing heat. I felt the skin over my knuckles tighten as my fists clenched. My muscles felt like iron bars under my uniform as I struggled to keep my breathing steady. Every time Marcus laughed, it felt like a needle under my fingernails.
"Drayan, are you even listening?" Liya asked, her hand touching my arm.
I flinched away from her touch as if her hand were made of acid. "Don't touch me," I hissed, my eyes never leaving the other pair.
The course began. It was a brutal run—climbing walls, jumping over pits of enchanted fire, and moving through swinging pendulums of silver. Because it was a "Duo" course, the partners had to help each other.
I watched as Wolfie leaped for a high ledge. She made it, but as she reached back to pull her partner up, Marcus didn't just grab her hand. He grabbed her forearm, his large, rough hand sliding over her skin, pulling himself up until he was inches from her face. From where I stood, it looked like he was smelling her hair.
A low, animalistic growl erupted from my throat. It wasn't the sound of a refined vampire; it was the sound of a predator whose mate was being touched by a scavenger.
"Drayan, you're losing focus!" Hroth yelled.
I ignored him. I moved through my own obstacles with a violent, jagged speed. I wasn't practicing; I was venting. I smashed through a wooden barrier with a single kick, the wood splintering into a thousand pieces as if it were nothing. My eyes were locked on Marcus as he and Wolfie reached the "Balance Beam"—a narrow strip of wood over a pit of freezing water.
Wolfie slipped. It was a minor stumble, something she could have recovered from in a second. But Marcus acted faster. He wrapped his arm around her waist to "steady" her, pulling her back against his chest. He kept his arm there far longer than necessary, his fingers splayed across her stomach, right near where her wedding ring rested.
That was it.
The Vampire Rage took total control. I didn't care about the grade. I didn't care about the rules.
I didn't run; I blurred. I moved across the gym in a streak of black shadow, covering fifty feet in less than a second. I didn't jump onto the beam; I landed on it with the force of a falling boulder, the wood groaning under my boots.
Before Marcus could even blink, I had my hand around his throat.
"Drayan!" Wolfie gasped, her eyes wide as she felt the raw power radiating off me.
I lifted Marcus off his feet, his toes dangling over the freezing water. My fangs were fully out, my eyes a terrifying, lightless black. I could smell his fear—the sharp, metallic scent of a wolf who realized he had pushed a vampire too far.
"I told you," I said, my voice dropping to a register so low it felt like a vibration in the floor. "I told you to keep your hands off her."
"It's... just... the course..." Marcus choked out, his hands clawing at my iron grip.
"There is no course when it comes to my wife," I snarled. I leaned in closer, my face a mask of cold, husbandly fury. "Every time you touch her, you lose a piece of your life. Do you want to see how much you have left?"
"Drayan, stop!" Wolfie's hand was on my shoulder. She wasn't pulling me away; she was grounding me. She slid her hand down my arm, her fingers interlacing with mine even as I held Marcus. "Drayan... look at me. I'm right here. I'm yours. He's nothing."
I looked at her. Her face was flushed from the exercise, her heart beating fast—not with fear of me, but with the thrill of seeing me claim her so violently. She loved the jealousy. She loved that the "City Boy" was willing to kill for her.
I slowly lowered Marcus, but I didn't let go of his throat until his feet hit the beam. I gave him a shove that sent him tumbling backward into the pit of freezing water.
Splash.
The gym went silent. Liya stood at the start of the course, her mouth open in shock. Commander Hroth was reaching for his whistle, but he stopped when I turned my gaze toward him.
"She's done for the day," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.
I stepped off the beam, reached out, and pulled Wolfie into my arms. I didn't care who was watching. I tucked her head under my chin, my hand resting possessively on the back of her neck. I was marking her, letting my vampire scent—cold rain and old ink—smother the smell of the wolf who had dared to touch her.
"You're a monster, Drayan," Wolfie whispered against my chest, her arms winding around my waist, her fingers tracing the hard lines of my eight-pack through my shirt.
"I'm your monster," I replied. "And anyone who forgets that will have to answer to me."
I led her out of the gym, leaving the "Official Training" behind. I didn't care about the Academy's rules anymore. I was a husband, and my only job was to make sure the world knew who Wolfie belonged to.