Page 30 of Viktor’s Temptation (East Coast Territory #2)
As she walked away, Gracie’s thoughts swirled with a mix of determination and longing.
Learning to control her new skills wasn’t just about mastering her powers—it was about proving to herself that she could thrive in this new reality.
It also meant she could potentially escape Viktor’s sphere of influence sooner.
Not that she wanted to escape, she thought, her cheeks heating as vivid memories of the night before surfaced.
After last night’s marathon of passion, Viktor had shattered every preconceived notion she’d had about intimacy.
He’d shown her pleasures she hadn’t even read about in her most indulgent romance novels.
And it wasn’t just his prowess in bed that attracted her—it was his steadfast dedication to his clan, his humility in acknowledging a potential weakness in his leadership, and his willingness to adapt.
Those qualities made him more than a powerful vampire lord; they made him a man of depth and empathy.
Gracie sighed as she pressed the elevator button, the cool metal grounding her for a moment. Who could resist a man like Viktor? she wondered. A man who was as incredible outside of the bedroom as he was within it. The idea of loving him both thrilled and terrified her.
She stepped into the gym, dressed in soft leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
The outfit was perfect for training—comfortably snug without being restrictive.
The space was vast, with polished hardwood floors that gleamed under the gym's fluorescent lights.
Mirrors lined one wall, reflecting the climbing ropes, weight racks, and mats stacked neatly in one corner.
The air smelled faintly of fresh wood polish and clean leather.
Gracie walked across the pristine floor to one of the open mats, determination burning in her chest.
Standing in the middle of the mat, she closed her eyes and concentrated.
She’d seen Viktor and others do it effortlessly—floating, flying, soaring with the grace of birds in an open sky.
But when Gracie tried to focus her energy through her feet, her first attempt resulted in a clumsy hop that sent her tumbling to the floor with an unceremonious thud.
“Ow,” she muttered, rubbing her bruised hip. But the pain was fleeting, and when she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she saw the bruises already fading. No excuses now, she thought, grinning at the small victory.
Over the next several hours, the gym became a flurry of trial and error.
Gracie pushed off with too much force and slammed into a padded wall, laughing breathlessly as she pushed herself off.
Other times, she barely lifted an inch off the ground before wobbling and landing in an ungraceful heap.
The bruises came and went like fleeting shadows, but with each attempt, she got closer to controlling the power surging within her.
At some point, she figured out the key: Think of your feet as a jet pack.
That simple visualization changed everything.
She focused her energy downward, imagining a steady stream of propulsion lifting her body off the ground.
The wobbling persisted at first, but with practice, she began to glide smoothly across the gym.
The first time she hovered mid-air without crashing, Gracie let out a triumphant laugh that echoed in the empty room.
The sensation was exhilarating—weightless and free, like the world had opened up before her.
After that, she carefully zipped across the gym, soaring higher with each pass.
The fear of falling faded with every flight, replaced by a growing confidence that made her heart race.
She practiced turns, stops, and hovering in place, marveling at the ease that came with repetition. The hardwood floor beneath her became a distant concern; even the occasional crash was met with a lighthearted chuckle as her injuries healed almost instantly.
Gracie floated in the middle of the gym, her arms spread wide as she basked in the sensation of flying.
The joy was intoxicating, but it wasn’t just the thrill of learning a new skill that filled her with pride—it was the thought of Viktor’s reaction.
She wanted to see his approval, to hear his praise, to know she’d impressed him.
The image of his glowing silver eyes watching her with pride sent a wave of warmth through her.
When she finally touched down, her chest was heaving, not from exhaustion but from exhilaration. She stood in the center of the gym, her feet firmly planted on the floor, and laughed softly to herself. “Take that, fear of heights,” she muttered, wiping a hand across her damp forehead.
The thrill of her newfound ability filled her with hope and excitement. Viktor would be proud—she knew he would. And the thought of showing him her progress, of standing tall and capable in front of him, filled her with a renewed sense of purpose.