Page 45 of Bullied Forced Omega
I grin at her, then wink. Her cheeks turn even pinker, and I quickly turn away. I don’t want to appear to be giving her special attention in the class. All of my students are important to me. They are all part of the pack and all deserve the same chances.
Despite giving all my students my full focus, my eyes are drawn to Mira more often than to others.
It’s difficult not to watch her. She’s gorgeous. She turns me on. She’s my Luna. I guess, at the end of the day, it would be weird if I wasn’t this drawn to her. And on top of that, I’m continuously impressed by her effort.
Class by class, I watch her struggle, but she never gives up. She never complains, and the only time she has anything to mutter about is when she’s being hard on herself. It’s something that bothers me, but also makes me admire her. In her eyes, she knows she can do better, and she refuses to accept anything less than her best. In my eyes, I don’t want anyone bringing her down, not even her own thoughts. I try to find a balance between letting her be hard on herself and telling her she’s wrong and she’s doing really well.
Our lives start falling into a comfortable, easy routine. During the day, I don’t see her very often because she’s working and I’m busy with Alpha business. I train our fighters and defense force. I meet with the elders to keep them up to date. I visit the clinic, the school, and the tech lab to stay in touch with the various departments and identify areas for improvement.
Mira joins my Omega training sessions at the end of the day, then we go home together to have dinner and share our thoughts and ideas from the day.
It’s Friday evening after a particular grueling session with the Omegas. I like to push them harder on Fridays because they don’t train again until Monday and have plenty of time for their muscles to recover.
Mira is famished. Her cheeks are still glowing pink from the exertion, even after she’s showered and changed into her comfy clothes for the evening.
I pull her chair out at the small dinner table in her cottage, and she sits down, smiling.
“Thank you,” she says. I catch her scent as I push the chair closer toward the table. Still in heat, taunting me with that sweet, tantalizing honey.
Mine.Jux tugs at my thoughts.
“You did really well today, Mira.”
“Thanks, I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying it!” she says excitedly.
“I noticed,” I laugh, enjoying her enthusiasm. “Look, I thought maybe it would help you if I gave you some private lessons. You started training later than everyone else, and one or two extra lessons a week might give you that extra boost?” I suggest.
“Really? You have time to give me private lessons?” she asks, surprised.
I scoff, “Of course, I have time to give you anything you need, Mira. You are my Luna,” I tell her.
Her smile tightens a little. “Right, yes, your Luna,” she nods. “It would be good for the pack if I were a good role model.”
I cock my head to the side. I wonder why she thinks my training her is for the pack? I wanted to help her. I narrow my eyes. “Only if you want to…”
“Yes. Please. I definitely want to. And I really appreciate you taking time out of your day to help me with it,” she nods, enthusiastic again.
“Good. That’s settled then. We’ll do our first private session on Sunday.”
Mira grins, “I hope my muscles can handle it,” she says.
“They can, you’ll see how easy it is to push past barriers you’ve made in your mind. And your shifter blood lets you heal much faster than a human.”
***
Sunday morning has thick mist rolling in through the forest. It’s chilly, and when I step out of the cottage with Mira following me in her training gear, I expect her to grumble and change her mind. But she doesn’t.
“Oh, good, at least I won’t overheat so much today!” she exclaims, not showing a flicker of hesitation.
I grin. That’s exactly the type of attitude I admire.
Instead of taking the Jeep to the arena, I jog there with her as our warm-up. We’ll head home for our cool-down.
Halfway there, Mira pauses and presses her hand into her side. She’s breathing hard.
“Stitch?” I ask. She nods, swallowing and grimacing. “I’ll…be…ok…in a… minute,” she says between breaths.
I step closer to her and press the palm of my hand against her ribs, right over the area she’s rubbing. “Take a very slow, deep breath. In. In. In. Hold it.”
