The Flame Trilogy (Books I, II & III)

1.05

I wake up at 5:00 am. Rolling out of bed, I pull on my pair of black leather pants along with a black long-sleeved crop top that reaches below my ribcage. The permanent ink that decorates my skin peaks out where my skin isn't fully covered. It takes me less than a minute to pull on and lace up my spiked combat boots on my feet.

The rain creates a rhythmic pounding on the window nearby, the thought of getting wet not bothering me in the slightest. A little bit of rain isn't going to stop me. I grab a hooded light jacket off one of the hangers in the wardrobe in the- my- room before creeping down the stairs and into the rain.

I take a small moment to appreciate the nature around me, just the smell of the mud and trees, the smell of the rain- it stirs my inner beast. It's almost like she can't wait to get into it, to feel the cool droplets against my ivory skin.

A small groan escapes my lips as I stretch my muscles and begin to run through the regime that had been practically beaten into me since I was 10. I don't even have to think as I rehearse with deadly precision and force: punch after punch, jab after jab, kick after kick.

The rain doesn't slow me down, instead it feels almost refreshing. I even practice a few tumbles and rolls without caring about the mud dirtying my skin, hair and clothes. I can hear everything around me, the whistling of the wind in my ears as I move, the leaves crunching beneath my feet with every step. I can feel nature in motion around me with each breath that I take; the crisp air filling my lungs, pushing me to move faster.

The cold rain begins to sting as it comes down harder against my cheeks, it would weigh me down if not for the resistance I maintain against it, aiming for precision with each stroke. A smile graces my features; coming alive with each harsh breath and my limbs that are beginning to ache.

My knuckles are raw and bleeding from the continuous hits I lay into the thick trunk of the oak tree in front of me. I have no doubt that my shins would be bruised, and I would feel like hell later on, but I can't seem to care.

I feel alive.

All I can think about is the look that will be on Aleksandr's face when I rip his heart out his chest and shove the beating organ down his throat. The need for revenge fuels me- revenge for what, I'm not entirely sure yet, but I'm hoping that Alpha Dimitri can help me find out. All I know is that Aleksandr has taken so much from me and one day I'd make him pay.

I freeze as I hear the sound of approaching footsteps on the wet patio. Swivelling around I'm met with the tired, yet surprised, face of Alpha Dimitri. His eyebrows raise at seeing me covered in mud and rain, but not at seeing me.

His eyes devour my form appreciatively, trailing from my toes, up my calves, thighs, hips, torso, breasts and arms before stopping at my face. It's almost as if he's committing my appearance to memory whilst simultaneously trying to mentally undress me.

His gaze is enough to send a fire of desire licking up my spine as I think of all the things he could do with those large hands of his. After last night's strange revelation, I know I have to be deathly careful around him because if I'm not careful, I might just end up closer than I want to find myself.

"Good morning Alpha." I greet him, the word 'Alpha' leaving my mouth mockingly. Not wanting to acknowledge him as my superior, because I don't see him as one- there's nothing about him that I could see to make him superior to me.

I can tell my insolence irritates him from the twitch in his jaw, but he doesn't say anything.

"Just Dimitri." He grunts. "What are you doing out in the rain at 6 in the morning?"

"Training." I answer simply. His eyes rake over my body again, once more drinking in every feature dedicatedly. His gaze stops at a fixed position as he stares at my bloodied and ripped hands.