The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

I could feel the newfound strength surging inside me, but strangely, it somehow felt... normal, like it had always been there waiting for me. Unlike before, I didn’t have to struggle to summon it it was just simmering steadily beneath my skin, ready to burst out whenever I wanted.

"Yup," my beast growled approvingly from the dark corners of my mind.

"Well, thanks for the info," I said mentally, smirking at the internal voices.

"No problem," she teased back with a mockingly sweet, purring tone.

Zaliver finally released my hand, his face turning completely serious as he stepped back.

"All right. Time to get started. And judging by how you’re looking right now, starvation is hitting you hard," he joked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hey!" I protested indignantly, pressing a hand to my growling stomach.

For the next three brutal hours, Zaliver put me through the wringer. He taught me how to carefully control my senses like focusing my heightened sense of smell without completely drowning in every single scent within a five-mile radius, how to hold back my raw strength when the world around me felt fragile like eggshells (which was vastly harder than I ever imagined), and how to lock my vision on what actually mattered while tuning out endless background distractions.

Along the way, I discovered three very important things about Zaliver: First, he was insanely good at pushing me past my limits. Second, he had a uncanny radar for when I was faking understanding just to get a break. And third, he was that kind of teacher.

"Zaliver, I swear " I gritted through my tightly clenched teeth.

"It’s Mr. Azrala!" he interrupted, his voice suddenly becoming playfully strict. I hadn’t realized he could sound like that, and I have to admit, it was kind of... terribly distracting. If only the situation wasn’t so damn exhausting.

"Mr. Asshaha," I shot back, mocking his authoritative tone while ignoring his loud, not-so-playful growl of warning.

I was currently hanging high from a metal pull-up bar in the home gym, gripping it for dear life while fighting the desperate urge to just let go and fall. I had no clue how high up I was suspended, and I sure didn’t want to find out the hard way by smashing into the floor.

"Get me down from here! How is hanging on this stupid bar helping at all?" I yelled, my palms sweating and slowly sliding over the smooth metal.

"That’s because you’re not supposed to just hang there, Vivian. You’re meant to pull yourself up to the top," he said, his voice sounding clipped and tense from below.

Pull myself up? To the top of what? The damn rainbow?

He probably didn’t notice my absolute disbelief, but I sure couldn’t picture myself doing that right now. What made him think I even wanted to try?

I looked down at my shaking arms, then shot him the meanest, most agonizing glare I could muster. He met my eyes with an expectant, unyielding stare and narrowed them.

"Studying his ass," my wolf muttered internally, thoroughly amused by the view from above.

My legs flailed helplessly beneath me, searching for a foothold or a way down, but I couldn’t find a single thing. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how I had ended up hanging up here in the first place. Maybe if I’d paid closer attention to his instructions earlier, I wouldn’t be in this ridiculous mess.

I sighed heavily and adjusted my slipping grip, my hands sliding again. My wolf and beast were just sitting back watching absolute traitors who refused to lend me a hand.

"Powerful and improved, my ass," I muttered bitterly under my breath.

What good was all this terrifying new strength if I couldn’t even pull myself up a simple bar? I either didn’t use enough power or risked breaking the entire structure into pieces. After hours mostly focused on controlled breathing and sharpening my senses, I still didn’t truly know my physical limits.

"You’ll thank us later," both voices echoed mockingly inside my head at the exact same time.

I growled in deep frustration, my eyes darting to the thick metal bars beneath my fingers. They were actually starting to bend out of shape under my grip not because I was heavy, but because I was squeezing far too hard in my panic. Crap.

"Zaliver! Get me down from here! I’m starving and I need real food!"

I wasn’t trying to give it my all with the training this morning it felt completely pointless when I could be eating a massive meal instead. Of course, I didn’t dare say that part out loud. Maybe that’s why I’ve always carried a little extra weight over the years?

...Nah.

There was a long beat of total silence below me. Then a deep, long-suffering sigh. I felt the subtle shift of air pressure in the room and knew he was moving. Zaliver might be faster than me okay, way faster but I was finally starting to pick up on the physical signs. I could sense it now, feel the shift when he was nearby or on the move. I briefly wondered who would win in an actual foot race. Him, probably. Definitely.

A split second later, my feet touched the ground gently, his raw power effortlessly lowering me from wherever he’d suspended me during training. I dropped down completely onto the workout mat and tossed my arms over my burning face. My body felt... weird. It was humming with a restless, chaotic energy like I needed to do something completely impossible just to get it out of my system.

"Hmmm," Zaliver’s deep voice rumbled directly above me.

I peeked from under one arm and shot him a dark look. He stood tall, feet spread apart, hands resting comfortably on his hips, looking like some supernatural drill sergeant evaluating a utterly hopeless recruit.

"Hmmm, what?" I grumbled.

He didn’t answer right away. He just shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable but suspiciously focused. I had a strong feeling he knew I’d been holding back during the physical part of training. Great.

"I’ll explain after breakfast," he finally said, offering a small truce.

That perked me right up.

Without another word, I bolted straight to the kitchen and plopped myself right onto the high counter like an overgrown puppy, eager and completely unashamed. I couldn’t cook to save my life, and I doubted turning into a fully realized lycan had magically fixed that flaw.

While he moved gracefully around the kitchen, I did my best to ignore the overwhelming tug of distraction in my hyper-sensitive senses the sharp sizzling sounds of the stove, the thick, sweet scent of syrup and bacon, the subtle hint of something fresh and fruity but my gaze locked onto him like a moth to a flame. There was something undeniably hypnotic about watching him cook. The way his broad shoulder muscles flexed under his shirt, how he casually flipped pancakes into the air and caught them with practiced ease... and let’s be honest, the way his ass looked in those dark pants? Extremely distracting.

A low hum started deep inside my chest again that same intense pull from earlier this morning. I watched him work, and all I could think was: Damn. That’s my mate.

Zaliver turned toward me with a ridiculous, towering stack of golden pancakes balanced in one hand, and another plate piled high with fruit, toast, and jam in the other. I forced myself to quickly look away before I started openly drooling, though the voices in my head weren’t helping at all, whispering all sorts of unfiltered, primal thoughts into my mind.

Being a werewolf meant I’d always had a solid, healthy appetite, but today? I completely demolished five fluffy pancakes, four slices of buttered toast, a generous helping of crispy bacon, and chased it all down with two large cups of strong black coffee. I stared at my empty plate in absolute disbelief. Then I glanced over at Zaliver.

He was still eating. Still going strong. Effortlessly inhaling twice as much food as I had just put away.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!