Choosing You, My Perilous Alpha

Chapter3

"Here," he uttered, his voice resonant but lacking the intimidation of his growl. Arthur. It was Arthur, the Alpha's son, who had stepped in to assist her. His deep brown eyes appeared to glow in the sunset's golden light, his hair reminiscent of burnished brass. Charity was certain her heart had leaped out of her chest.

"Thank you," she murmured, reclaiming the tattered book with trembling hands. He simply nodded before retracing his steps. Charity observed his departure, a swirl of mixed emotions roiling in her stomach as her mind struggled to process the recent events.

"Oh my goodness, I can't leave you alone," Natasha remarked, panting as she jogged up to Charity, looping a sweaty arm around her shoulders. "Were you just rescued by the most attractive guy our age?"

Charity wrinkled her nose and shrugged off her best friend's clammy arm.

"Our age? Should we even be focusing on boys at our age? Aren't we supposed to be more patient?" she questioned.

Natasha chuckled, her gaze trailing to where Arthur had disappeared beyond the trees.

"Wait until I find my True Mate?" she scoffed, grabbing the water bottle she had left near Charity by the tree. "I'll appreciate any male I like."

"You're unbelievable," Charity sighed, still preoccupied with the golden shimmer that had set her free from Isaiah's grasp. "With that mindset, I'm surprised you haven't encountered him yet."

.......

It had been several weeks since Arthur had stepped in and rescued Charity from the bullies. She had wandered aimlessly around the pack's territory, holding onto that same tattered book.

Observing Arthur's training regimen, she shadowed his movements, witnessing him refine techniques she already deemed flawless. Despite his size, he moved with a grace that belied his strength. Not a massive bulk of muscle, he displayed evident power, moving swiftly enough that Charity sometimes struggled to keep up.

Caught often in moments of contemplation, she found herself gazing at Arthur, forgetting to avert her eyes when he met her gaze lingering for too long. Yet, this did not deter her from seeking him out daily. Each morning, she felt an unfamiliar tug, prompting her to rise early, knowing it was the precise time Arthur would embark on his morning run.

For what felt like nearly every day of the past five weeks, Charity had followed him closely. However, a persistent feeling lingered, compelling her to seek his proximity. Uncertain of its origin, she pondered the possibility of developing a slight crush on the Alpha's son.

Could Arthur be her mate?

'No,' she reasoned. Her senses had not yet matured enough to discern her true mate. This clarity often did not emerge until later years, perhaps not until she reached twenty-one. Most wolves recognized their mates only once their senses had fully developed, typically between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one.

Despite her reservations, she noted incremental improvements in her sensory acuity with each passing day. Night vision had marginally improved, yet not significantly enough for her to be certain.

One early morning, Natasha approached Charity, emanating a scent of sweat and dirt, wearing a mischievous grin.

"What?" Charity questioned warily. Natasha's gaze shifted towards where Arthur had departed the gym, unwinding the straps from his hands.

"Why not seek guidance from Alpha junior to learn some maneuvers?" Natasha whispered confidentially, fidgeting with the end of her long braid. "Instead of trailing after him like a lost pup."

And so it continued, with Natasha finding her daily to tease her until Charity finally reached her breaking point.

"Fine!" Charity exclaimed, springing to her feet and pressing her book against Natasha's chest.

She took a deep breath, casting a nervous glance at Arthur before exhaling. Courageously, she approached him, his gaze focused on a distant point, perhaps admiring the packhouse view.

Clearing her throat, she smiled as he turned towards her. She was certain he had sensed her approach and remained still, understanding that her senses lagged about two years behind his in maturity.

"Hi," she greeted softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear self-consciously as his dark eyes met hers.

"Hello," he responded, shifting his attention back to the packhouse as if searching for something. Though he didn't offer further words, she refused to retreat just because he wasn't feeling chatty.

"I was wondering if you could teach me how to defend myself?" she asked, her voice hushed. Despite feeling inadequate, being in close proximity to Arthur evoked a range of unfamiliar sensations. "You know, to handle the bullies? Please?"

Slowly, almost torturously, he pivoted to face her. His gaze appraised her like he was attempting to align two mismatched puzzle pieces. Striving to remain composed, she awaited his anticipated rejection. Tilting his head, he offered a slight shrug.

"Okay," was all he said, yet it ignited a surge of excitement within her, threatening to overwhelm her.

He scheduled two-hour afternoon training sessions daily, where he patiently guided her through essential defensive tactics.

Despite her initial apprehension of transforming into a nervous wreck around him, she discovered that Arthur was an adept instructor. Under his guidance, she acquired defensive maneuvers to safeguard her vulnerable spots from attacks.

Though her wolf may have internally protested as he demonstrated how to escape from a pinning position, Charity disregarded the inner conflict.

"Get up," Arthur instructed one afternoon, maintaining his human form as Charity lay breathless on the ground post a rigorous training session. "You must shift quicker in dangerous situations."

He had repeated that advice countless times, yet no matter how much she exerted herself, the pain impeded her.

Shifting always brought agony, without fail. Letting out another puff of frustration, she signaled her discontent with that specific training, prompting a shake of his head from Arthur. Though there was a faint smile on his face, Charity attributed it to sheer exhaustion. She was convinced her mind was playing tricks on her.

"You're fixating on the pain, aren't you?" he queried. Rolling her head over, she shot him a look that conveyed her clear frustration before turning back onto her belly. With a sigh, he scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "You need to release that fear. It leaves you vulnerable in combat."

She pondered how she was expected to shed her fear of pain during shifting. The way he framed it sounded like there was a mental switch she could flick hidden within her mind.

"Don't appear perplexed," he remarked, settling beside her on the ground and crossing his legs on the grass. "Imagine it as swiftly pulling off a bandage."

Gruntting, she lifted her head. Curiosity gleamed in her eyes, and she felt an unexpected surge of affection.

"When you remove a bandage, do you do it slowly?" he inquired.

She shook her head.

"Correct, you do it swiftly to minimize the duration of pain."

Ah.

Ah.

Understanding dawned.

Rather than shifting gradually, enduring the prolonged agony of each bone creaking and cracking, she could shift swiftly to reduce the amount of time she endured such pain. Impressed by his clever analogy, realizing it was a simple concept even a child could grasp, she pondered how many wolves had discovered this technique. Transitioning back, she closed her eyes and summoned her wolf, relinquishing control as rapidly as possible while preparing for the inevitable discomfort.

The pain was fleeting, lasting only a few moments. Blinking open her eyes, she gazed at Arthur in astonishment, her snout mere inches from his face.