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She didn’t practise her smiles or remind herself not to be too proud. She didn’t think about all those perfect little lines she was supposed to impossibly balance. Humble but confident, sexy but innocent, bursting with chemistry but platonic.
She ignored her inbox, which was almost definitely full of messages from their new dorm manager pointing out her every misstep or forwarding another diet plan that would inevitably spark a whole new feud with Mikel, who insisted that 3.
5 ounces of plain chicken breast and unlimited water was not acceptable for someone with Isobel’s physical output.
She didn’t think about her father and the urgent tone of his message when he said he needed Kalen to call him the night before. She didn’t wonder whether Kalen had found the time to make that call or why her father was now going over her head to talk to the others .
There was always some kind of emergency, some new scandal, or some urgent plan to brainstorm.
Isobel might have felt bad that sometimes her father was fighting even harder than her to find a way out of their situation, but that would require thinking, and thinking was for later.
For now, there was just the music and the first hint of a morning glow that began to creep through the Ironside campus.
She was warm by the time she reached their private studio room.
Tossing her bag to one of the benches, she opened the curtains and let out her first proper breath for the day, free from panic.
Her body began to loosen as she hooked up her phone to the speakers, set it up on a tripod by the mirrors, and started a livestream.
It was the best she could offer these days, but people didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t in the mood to talk to them and answer all their questions.
It took off in Europe first—this thing she did in the morning.
People said that it was nice to snuggle up in bed and watch her dance in the morning.
Apparently, her energy was very pure and calm, but somehow also energetic.
When Gabriel forwarded her that feedback, she deliberately began to pick slower, more serene songs, opting for fluid and graceful dances that were easier to copy and might be nice to watch while the mind struggled to wake up …
because she knew all about the reasons someone might need a little comfort in the morning.
A few months ago, Ironside had capitalised on what she was doing, starting a video segment on their website called Waking up with Carter . They said that because it was part of a planned segment, she couldn’t earn popularity points on those videos.
Not that it mattered.
Those were thoughts for later.
She began stretching, turning her body to the soft light beginning to wash across the polished wooden floors.
There would already be thousands of people watching, but she pretended she was alone.
She pretended there was nothing wrong, and since she had gotten so good at pretending for the cameras, she started to believe it.
She was just a normal person enjoying a peaceful morning, losing herself in the music and the gentle stretch of her muscles, at peace in her own mind, no weight on her shoulders and no darkness in her heart.
Restarting the song from the beginning, she finally began to dance.
Three hours later, she caught sight of Kilian and Niko in the reflection of the mirror as they slipped into the room. She turned off her livestream and picked up a towel, sliding down the mirror to sit on the floor.
Niko sat before her, quietly pulling her legs out to stretch between his as he caught both of her hands into one of his and pressed her toes up to arch her feet back with his free grip. He drew her forward by her hands, and she groaned as he stretched out her abused calves and hamstrings.
“You’re going viral again.” Kilian sat beside her, threading the sticky strands of her hair back behind her ear. He wasn’t congratulating her. There was a note of concern in his voice. “Everyone is worried about you.”
“He really means everyone,” Niko added, now stretching her feet back the other way, pointing her toes and pushing the tops of her feet down with firm pressure. “As in all eleven million people who just tuned in to watch you dance for three hours.”
“What?” she croaked, lifting her head. “Did you just say?—”
“Eleven million,” Niko repeated, releasing her hands and gripping her ankles to pull her closer to him. He spun her around and dragged her back until she was almost sitting up against his wide chest. He began to stretch out her arms, back, and neck.
She groaned again. “I could really use Mikki right now.”
Niko snorted. “You’re welcome.”
“I mean, you’re so good, you’re making me want Mikki.”
“Mhm,” Niko scoffed.
She tried again, “I mean his physiotherapy.”
“Should I apologise for coming instead of Mikel?” Niko’s whisper curled like smoke against the top of her head, low and lethal.
She was momentarily at a loss for words as he twisted her torso, stretching out her obliques.
His strong fingers were heaven, his scent warm and energising, the burn of spiced, oaky liquor briefly clouding her senses.
It would have been too much first thing in the morning with exhaustion tugging at her mind, but Kilian’s bergamot cut through the burn, lightening the aroma with a sharp, mouthwatering spray of citrus.
She fought off the urge to tip her head back and lick the scent straight from the column of Niko’s sun-brushed neck, but it wouldn’t be the same.
She would need to lick them both, somehow, at the same time.
And … she didn’t have that kind of relationship with Niko, despite losing her virginity to him in a hate-fuck in her closet.
“If eleven million people can feel sorry for me, you can too.” She had no idea if the trembling hint of a whine that undercut her voice was part of the joke or something she couldn’t help. “I’m so delirious I don’t know how to communicate.”
“It’s fine.” He went back to her neck. He knew that always pained her the most.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back as his strong fingers dug across the muscles along the line of her shoulders, easing the tension that pinched up to the back of her head .
“Illy,” Kilian murmured softly, drawing her eyes open again.
His pale, peridot gaze swam with concern, but dark circles of his own marred his smooth, porcelain skin.
“You know you can’t do stuff like this. Sloan just deducted a whole bunch of popularity points from your bank and sent us here to turn the camera off. ”
She rolled her eyes. Fucking Sloan . Their new dorm manager had been given even more power than Cooper, and she used it to control every single waking moment of their lives.
Isobel was surprised she hadn’t found a way to control their sleeping hours yet, almost as surprised as she was that it was still hours , plural.
It was a miracle she hadn’t found a way to power them down in pods for twenty minutes a night before forcing them back to work.
“We literally train seventeen hours a day sometimes, but this is where she’s gonna draw the line?” Isobel complained, but her voice was weak, her words slurring slightly.
She already knew she had broken the rules.
“You made it look like you were troubled.” Niko spat the words out like he was thinking of weaving them into a rope and using that rope to suffocate Sloan to death. “You’re only allowed to look like you’re having the absolute best time of your life.”
“While working seventeen hours a day,” Kilian added.
“And speaking of torture, we’re late,” Niko squeezed her shoulders in warning, “for the guy you really wanted to see.” He stood, pulling her easily to her feet with him. “Our small group session started a few minutes ago.”
He hurried over to Mikel’s office door at the back of the room, and she didn’t need to wait to know he was fetching her a protein shake from the bar fridge in there.
She had spent such a long time worrying about Niko not eating, casually passing him protein bars at every opportunity, that she knew exactly what it looked like. The tables had turned.
She grabbed her bag, leaving with the towel still slung over her shoulder because her body was running hot, and it felt like it might take a little while for her to stop sweating. Niko caught up to them in the hallway, pushing a bottle and a banana into her hands.
“Eat before we get there,” he ordered.
She wasn’t afraid of Sloan, but Mikel and Kalen were a nightmare if anyone turned up to their small group session late.
Or a meeting. Or anything, really. Their schedules were so packed that every minute felt essential, and they hated when people didn’t respect their time.
There would be similar trouble if she turned up on an empty stomach after three hours of dancing.
Niko gathered the silky black strands of his hair into a knot as they hurried toward their usual gym room, and she found her eyes bouncing between the two Alphas as they pulled a few paces ahead of her.
Niko and Kilian were stunning men, and side by side, they were like day and night.
Kilian was a beautiful canvas of wintry colouring, with snowy skin and sly eyes that tugged smiles from her lips whether she wanted to give them away or not.
Niko was the exact opposite. His hazel eyes were often dark with temper, his messy, inky hair giving him a wild, untamed look.
He had gone through a lot, and he had lost his smiles, but his sense of humour was slowly creeping back, and he was starting to pursue the things he enjoyed in life again—with what little time he had—in a way that seemed to bring him a kind of quiet peace.
He had started painting and had taken up swimming with Oscar.
The two of them had now completely conquered their hesitancy of the water, and as with everything they put their minds to, they quickly figured out how to excel.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2 (Reading here)
- Page 3
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