Seth

"No, no, no. You need to slow the fuck down. I want to see you weave through the cones-not speed up," Seth shouted at her, even though they were communicating through their helmets.

"Fuck-don't yell!" Freya yelled back in her annoying high-pitched voice.

"Can you lower the speed? I need to see you master the balance of the motorcycle at a slow pace. Do you get that or not?" he snapped.

"Yes, I understand English just fine," she muttered back through the earphones.

Seth observed her finally doing what he had told her. The last couple of hours, she had been a real pain in the ass and had done the opposite of everything he told her.

Like a bratty brat.

But he couldn't deny the fact that she had been as much a queen as a brat, because the way she had mastered the bike today impressed him very much. She balanced it perfectly, controlled it like she had been doing this for years, and she looked hellishly fine dressed in black from head to toe on the black, polished bike.

And with her bent-over posture, the curve of her ass pointing slightly outward, a tempting thought slid through his mind after this morning.

What a thrill it would be to fuck her right here on the bike in the empty parking lot.

Fuck some of the brattiness out of her.

But when she stopped the bike next to him and lifted her visor, the thought slipped away.

"Well, let's hear it from the judge."

"It wasn't... it was perfect. Truly," he said.

"Good, I've had help from another teacher, you see. A teacher who knows what he's doing," she said and her words made his veins turn cold.

"What?"

"Ah, relax, Seth. I'm just messing with you. But it's nice to know that you get jealous, though," she teased and pulled her visor down again.

"Funny..." he muttered before getting onto his own bike. "Let's get on the road."

"Really? You think I'm ready?" she asked, and he could hear the excitement in her voice.

"Absolutely not, but hey - life is about taking risks, isn't it?" he teased.

Freya

Her eyes closed. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, slow and steady, before exhaling softly. Her fingers tightened around the handlebars before she loosened her grip again. She listened-first to the faint chirping of birds, then to the gentle rustle of the wind, and finally to the rhythmic pounding of her heartbeat, growing stronger and faster with every moment.

Then, she opened her eyes.

The motorcycle surged forward, gaining speed as Freya turned onto the open country road. The deep, commanding roar of the engine drowned out every other sound. It was just her and the bike. The beast beneath her felt majestic, and together they moved as one. Faster and faster, they pushed forward-with gear changes she thought were nothing short of perfect. Trees and patches of forest blurred past the corner of her eyes, but her gaze stayed firmly locked on the road ahead.

Because Freya couldn't deny it-the rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins, the warmth of freedom coursing through her body, and the sharp, intoxicating awareness of being alive. It was utterly breathtaking.

Her body leaned forward in sync with the bike, her gaze darting between the road ahead, the mirrors, and the scenery flashing by. She felt completely in control. She had control.

Seth had seriously misjudged her, she thought. He should never have lowered his expectations.

Because the speedometer now read 80 km/h.

And she was riding like a goddess.

"Careful now-there are some curves coming up in a few minutes," Seth's voice crackled in her ear.

She smiled. "Darling, you fucked up. I'm going to win this, and we both know it."

"Don't get too confident now, Freya. I mean it. Don't take any chances," he replied, his tone sharper this time.

Freya rolled her eyes at Seth's warning. Curves or not, she was in control, and she wasn't about to let him plant seeds of doubt in her mind. Her confidence surged as the wind whipped against her helmet, her body perfectly in harmony with the bike beneath her.

The road ahead twisted slightly, but she leaned into the turn effortlessly. She could feel the balance, the raw power of the engine, and the smooth connection between her and the beast. She was invincible.

Until she wasn't.

The moment came without warning. Gravel scattered near the edge of the road caught her back tire, and the sudden shift made the bike wobble. Her heart skipped a beat as she instinctively tried to correct, but it was too late. The rear wheel lost traction entirely, and before she knew it, the motorcycle slid out from under her.

The world became a blur of motion, sound, and pain. Freya hit the asphalt hard, the rough surface scraping against her arms and legs even through her gear. The roar of the engine was replaced by the deafening sound of metal skidding against pavement

For a moment, there was silence. Then Seth's panicked voice broke through her earphones. "Freya? FREYA? Are you okay?"

She coughed, her hands trembling as she tried to push herself up. Her bike lay a few meters away, scratched but mostly intact. Her own body, however, wasn't as lucky. The sting of road rash burned on her arms and legs, and the adrenaline pumping through her veins only made it worse.

"I'm fine," she muttered, though her voice cracked. "Just... give me a second."

"Stay where you are," Seth barked. His tone was sharp, but the underlying worry in his voice betrayed him. "Don't move. I'm coming to you."

She wanted to argue, to tell him she didn't need his help, but as she glanced down at the torn fabric on her gear and the raw, bloody skin underneath, the confidence faded. For the first time that day, doubt crept in. Maybe she wasn't as invincible as she thought.

Within moments, Seth was there, skidding to a stop on his own bike and throwing off his helmet.

"Oh, fucking hell, Freya," he muttered, running a hand down his face as his eyes darted over her injuries. Relief and frustration fought for dominance in his expression as he knelt beside her. "I told you to not take any chances."

"I thought I had it," she snapped. "I almost did."

"Almost isn't good enough," he shot back. "You could have been seriously hurt."

Seth helped her with taking off the helmet, and she was quick with snapping her head away from him. She didn't want him to see her wet eyes. Seth's hands were gentle when they examined her body for injuries, and then he laid his fingers under her chin. Forcing her to meet her eyes. Freya stayed quiet, biting back the sting of her pride. She hated how vulnerable she felt, hated the way he looked at her like she was reckless and fragile all at once.

"I'm fine," she repeated, trying to regain some of her composure.

Seth shook his head. "You're lucky, that's what you are. This could've been much worse."

"You're not riding anymore today," Seth said firmly. "It's enough for now."

She didn't answer. She didn't have anything to say.

Seth stretched out his arm to her and helped her up. "You'll ride with me, and I'll pick up your bike later, okay?" She gave a faint nod and cast one last glance at her bike. Fucking death machine.

The wind lashed against her again, but this time Seth's body shielded her much more. Her arms were firmly wrapped around him, and the feel of his body against hers made her feel safe. And it felt good. She didn't look ahead toward the road. Instead, she kept her head bowed, afraid to even look at what had almost hurt her badly. The adrenaline hadn't completely faded, and she could feel a cold, irritating sense of fear slowly creeping into her nerves and veins.

If this fear made her too scared to continue, she was fucked.

"You're a good backpack," Seth said in a deep voice through her earphones.

"I'm a what now?" she replied.

"A good backpack. Your body against mine on the bike," he said, and she could sense the smile in his voice.

"Oh..." she muttered, trying to suppress the smile threatening to surface. "It feels good to be your backpack."