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He snorts and walks around to the front of the treadmill. He braces his arms on the console, making his pleasing but irritating face much harder to avoid looking at. “And that must be the response from the resident prickly female.”

I smirk. “Pricklyandpoisonous, better watch yourself.”

He snickers. “Lucky for you, that’s my type.” He winks at me. “I’m Max.”

Oh, no fucking way. Is he hitting on me right now? When I’m working out and clearly haveFuck Offstamped across my forehead?

I roll my eyes. “Taken.”

Max tilts his head. “Your name is Taken? Woah, that’s different.”

My lips twitch, and the ludicrousness of the conversation is weirdly comforting to me. It somehow makes me warm to him a little. “Summer,” I reply, still running.

Max’s smirk deepens, his eyes sparkling. “Do you fight, Taken Summer?”

I burst out laughing. “Fight? Absolutely not.” I bristle as I feel Max’s eyes trail over me.

“Yeah, you do seem like thedamsel in distresstype.”

I slam my hand down on the stop button. “Excuse me?”

Max lifts a dark eyebrow, watching me, and there is a flicker of enjoyment in his brown eyes. He is obviously getting his kicks from my anger. “Oh, did that hit a nerve?”

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to devise the perfect scathing comeback. His eyes sparkle again, and instead, I decide on the simpler and infinitely more juvenile route of flipping him the bird. His remark sits under my skin, annoyingly scraping at my flesh. I think he said it just to get a reaction from me, but why? Maybe it’s a weird asshole way of flirting. Or maybe he wants to add a fae to his roster of clients. I don’t imagine that fae come here very often. They prefer to train together and in private. Fucking weirdos. So, I must be somewhat of a novelty.

Max isn’t the first guy I’ve had to put in his place, and I know that engaging will just keep him interested. I step off the treadmill and look around at the other scary-looking machines. I am unsure what most of them do or how to work them, but I notice one resembling stairs. Making a beeline for it, I step up onto it and press the start button.

I’ve barely climbed a flight when Max saddles up beside me again, that same infuriating look on his face. “Switching machines? Definitely not a damsel move. If you want to prove your not-damsel status, class starts in ten minutes.”

“Class?”

“Today we’re working on defense,” he croons, his words sounding weirdly dirty.

“Why would I join your fighting class when I have combat twice a week?” I hiss.

He takes a few steps back. His grin is so cocky it sets my teeth on edge. “Because you clearly need the extra help.” His gaze flicks to the dagger sheathed on my thigh, and he shakes his head, chuckling softly under his breath. Does he know that I have no fucking idea how to use it?

I growl under my breath as he turns and swaggers away, but I can’t keep from glancing at the room in the back a few times. I consider what he said and the implications of being a damsel in distress, the vulnerability I’ve been feeling. Slapping my hand down on the control panel, I end my workout on the stair machine. I casually walk past the room, taking a long drink from my water bottle so it doesn’t seem like I’m creeping on the class.

Max is at the front of the class, demonstrating various moves. He meets my gaze and quirks his brow, silently asking if I’m going to join. My jaw sets, and I glare at him before slipping out of the hoodie and returning to the treadmill. Forty-five minutes later, the class ends, and everyone leaves the room, dripping in sweat but chattering excitedly. Max’s gaze zeros in on me the moment he enters the gym, and he struts toward me.

“Checking me out?” he croons.

“Gross. Absolutely not. I was just drinking my water.” I press the button to up the speed, trying to work through my frustration even though the cause of it is still standing on my left.

“Treadmill. How… damsely.”

“Will you fuck off?” I growl, glaring at him.

Max moves back in front of the treadmill, leaning against it. “Why does it bother you? Being called a damsel.”

“Cause it means weak. Defenseless,” I reply honestly. I could have come up with a nasty retort or even some lie to shove him away, but the truth pushes its way out. Since the night I… While I’ve been running from Torin, I’ve also been running from feeling weak and vulnerable, feelings that have onlyintensified since I embarrassed myself while training with the Morningstars.

“Are you?”

I stop the treadmill, my breathing only a little labored. Am I defenseless? I felt weak and afraid when I was in the woods. I feel it whenever I feel that dark gaze on me. I feel it when I am not protected by Avalon.

“Let’s fight,” Max says, lifting his chin slightly. “You know, the stronger you are physically, the more powerful your magic is.”