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56

Summer

C onnor’s large, muscular body is warm. It’s like a furnace, actually, and I wake up sweating. At some point during the night, he’s shifted in the bed, and now he’s resting his head on my chest, using me like a pillow. His even, peaceful breaths tease my skin, and I smile down at him. I kiss the top of his head, his blond hair ruffled in sleep.

I try to ease from beneath him, but he tightens his arms and pulls me in closer. His semi-hard cock brushes against me, and desire floods my core, eliciting a deep groan. I shift, and my gaze lands on my phone. I remember the conversation with 1015 and the threatening and dominating nature of the messages. Adrenaline floods through me, beating back the desire.

My dream is long forgotten, but my body is tight as if every muscle has been flexed all night. I know I need to go for a run this morning. I ache to chase the elusive clarity that only exercise brings me, but then I remember the many dangers vying for my attention. Perhaps today is the day to try the gym.

After much gentle coaxing, I manage to scoot myself from beneath Connor. He doesn’t wake, but he grabs my pillow and buries his face into it, inhaling deeply. Some powerful, warm emotion fills me. What a mush.

I pull on hot pink shorts and a matching sports bra before shoving my feet into my white sneakers. I grab my black hoodie as I leave the dorm and pull it on when the bite of the early autumn air nips at my skin. Combat class is held on the training field or in a designated classroom, so I’ve never been to the gym, but I have a rough idea of where it is. I push myself into a run, headed in that general direction.

All the lights are on in the building, and I can see various equipment and weights through the glass doors. I push inside, and a wall of air-conditioned air hits me. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and I feel my nipples tighten uncomfortably in my sports bra. I tug the zip of my hoodie up higher and walk deeper into the gym.

I look around, appreciating the clean aesthetic of the place. Exercise machines and weights are neatly organized into different zones. There are open areas for cardio, strength training, and yoga or floor exercises. At the back is a large empty room separated from the rest of the gym by a glass wall. Its floor is covered with mats, and there are multiple racks and shelves filled with various weapons. The gym is empty, except for a few trainers chatting or completing their own workouts before the gym fills up.

I look around, feeling a little overwhelmed and missing my simple run-of-the-mill outdoor daily run. This space may be beautiful, but it’s not as beautiful as running through the forest or in a park. I sigh and pull my hair into a high ponytail before walking to one of the treadmills. It’s the farthest one from the rest of the gym, and it has a sense of safety to it.

I climb onto the treadmill and tap the start button. The belt moves, and I start with a leisurely walk. It only takes moments before I’m bored, and I gradually increase the speed until I’m at a pace similar to my outdoor runs. It takes a little longer than usual, but my anxieties and fears do finally melt away. I’m able to relax into the solace of the burn in my lungs and the way my legs move in perfect rhythm as I settle in.

A tall, muscled male appears beside me. “You’re new.”

My peace disturbed, I look at him, forcing as much venom into my glare as possible. He’s even bigger than I appreciated in my peripheries. His face is not conventionally handsome like Connor’s, but there is an attractive, rugged charm to it. His dark hair is sheared close to his scalp, somehow making him look even more intimidating.

His lips pull into a cocky smile, and he crosses his arms across his chest, making his unreasonable biceps look even larger. I look away, but I can still feel his annoying smirk as he waits for my reply.

I continue running, my gait still even and unshakeable. “Oh, this must be the warm welcome from the resident gym rat.”

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. “Prickly and poisonous, 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 have Fuck Off stamped 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 the damsel in distress type.”

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 only intensified 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.”

Does he not see me exercising right now?

“No, I don’t want to fight you.”

Max shrugs. “Hm. Too bad. Always wanted to train a fae.”

Fucking knew it. Asshole.

I step off the treadmill and pull on my hoodie again. I walk toward the exit and am halfway across the gym when I hear Max’s stupid voice. He only says one word. One stupid word, but it’s the only word he could have said that would make me pause here.

“Coward.”

I feel my spine lock up, but I force myself not to engage, knowing he’s goading me. He is trying to push me into fighting him, a stupid manipulation to add a fucking notch to his training mitts or whatever the fuck fighters use. I take a deep breath and keep walking.

Connor is just waking up when I get to my room, and I bend, planting a sweaty kiss on his lips.

“Gym?” Connor moans softly against my lips.

I nod and straighten, starting to undress for the shower. “I met this complete dickhead gym guy.”

Connor frowns and sits up in bed. He leans back against the headboard, the sheet pooling low on his hips. “Short buzz cut and stubble? Huge muscles?”

I nod.

“Maximillian Romulus. I hate that guy. He’s a dick.”

Surprised, I stop and look at him. “You do?” That someone would have such a reaction to Max is not what shocks me. What surprises me is that it’s Connor who is reacting this way. I’ve never seen Con display anything less than mild disinterest.

“He’s always acted like my existence insults him. He’s a dick to all of us, even Luke.”

I lift my eyebrows as I pull off my sports bra. “Luke? How can anyone be nasty to Luke? Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer,” I ponder as I walk through to the shower. I hear Connor scramble out of bed.

“What offer?” Connor asks, following me.

“To fight him.” I turn on the shower and push off my panties before stepping in. The warm water makes my muscles groan in ecstasy. Connor joins me, looking down at me with an intensity I am not used to from him.

“Why would he offer that?”

I shrug, tilting my head back to wet my hair. “He wants to train a fae.”

“Sum, he’s a berserker. If you tried to fight him… it wouldn’t be pretty.”

My lips twitch. “Well, I flipped him off instead.”

Connor chuckles and relaxes a little. “That’s my girl.”

I look up at him and trail my hands up his chest. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press my naked body to his. “No more talk of gym rats.”

Connor laughs, his hands already roaming over my curves.

I pull him down and kiss him deeply. His tongue flicks mine, my belly clenching at his groan of pleasure. He cups his hand at the back of my thighs and hoists me against him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He slides his fingers through my folds, checking to see if I am ready for him. Finding me hot and slick, Connor thrusts inside of me. He buries his cock to the hilt, supporting my full weight with his arms.

“Fuck. This is my favorite workout,” I moan against his lips.

Connor laughs, but it trails into a deep moan as he rolls his hips and thrusts, fucking me deeper. He takes a step, and I arch as my back finally meets the cold tile of the shower wall, but it somehow only adds to the pleasure. Connor uses the slick tiles to move me faster on him, and I tunnel my fingers into his hair, yanking hard.

“Fuck, Sum…” Connor hisses into my mouth, his cock pulsing inside me. He thrusts and circles his hips again, grinding against my clit. “I’m close. Are you close?”

I nod, biting the tip of his tongue.

I rock my hips, taking him deeper with each thrust, and I cry out as I find my release. Connor’s groan is guttural and primal as he follows me into pleasure, his thrusts becoming more disjointed as he pushes his release into me as deep as he can.

“We’re going to be late…” I moan, kissing Connor again.

“I just want to stay here with you,” he whispers.

“You’re so weirdly obsessed with me,” I say with a smile. “It’s gross.”

Connor laughs and eases me off his cock. He sets me back on my feet but keeps hold of me until I am steady enough that we can quickly finish our shower.