“Archer, are you okay?”
Ignoring me, he kept lifting the weights.
“Please talk to me.”
Every muscle was locked tight as he pushed up that heavy bar. He must have kept spare clothes in the gym, because he wasdressed in black sweatpants and a matching T-shirt. What he didn’t have on were shoes or socks.
“What’s wrong?”
He finally set the bar on the rack, unhooked his hand from the bar, and sat up. Sweat beaded on his temples as he stared straight ahead. “This can’t work.”
My heart lurched. “What do you mean?”
Archer swung his leg over the bench and leaned forward on his elbows.
“Is it because of what happened back there?” I stood before him, hoping he would allay my fears and that he wasn’t about to crush my heart. “They outnumbered you. Three to one, and youstillfought them off. You should be proud of that.”
“Proud?” He scoffed and rose up. “I’m ashamed you had to see that. I’m ashamed because I’m not a man you can be proud of.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Back at the bar, I was showing off at darts like an arrogant jerk. I guess the fates wanted to remind me who I really am.”
“You’re gifted. That’s not arrogance. The fates had nothing to do with those idiots.”
Turning away, he crossed over to the mirror, his eyes downcast. “You don’t know the whole story.”
I sat on the weight bench. “Then tell me the story of Archer Swift, because I want to know who that man is. I need to know who you’re telling me not to love.”
His head tilted slightly, and I knew it was because I saidloveout loud.
That’s what my heart felt, so I had no intention of retracting my declaration. Despite his perception of what happened back there, all I saw was a man who had foughtforme and not against me.
Archer stared at himself in the mirror. “I once had a pack whoadmired me. I decided early on I wanted to live up to my name. So I learned archery and spent hours and hours practicing until I was the best anyone ever saw. My hunting skills even impressed the Packmaster. My packmates started setting challenges. I thought making it into a wager would get them off my back, but it didn’t.”
“You told me this. You made money from bets.”
Archer stared at his prosthetic arm. “I got the bow-and-arrow tattoo when I was nineteen. Then, later, I got a long arrow inked on my left forearm. I thought it looked badass since that was the arm I used to grip my bow.”
Tilting my head to catch his attention, I asked, “How old are you now?”
“A hundred and nine.”
While that came as a surprise, sometimes I saw a lifetime lived in his eyes.
“You called me your protector, but I’m not. I’m a sinner.” He lowered his head.
I jumped to my feet, but when I touched his back, he pivoted away from me.
“Don’t give me your kindness or pity. You’ll regret it.”
Leaning against the mirror, I crossed my arms and watched him return to the weights while deliberately avoiding eye contact.
“Archery wasn’t my only skill. I was a womanizer. Every beautiful woman was a notch on my bedpost. My packmates were jealous that it came so easy, so they would lay bets on women. I never took advantage of them through alcohol or coercion. That’s the only honor I can claim. This went on for decades, even when I joined a new pack of my own. One day, my friends set a challenge to seduce a mated woman. Anyone I wanted. When the pot got high enough, I chose a woman who seemed unhappy with her mate. She was easy to bed, and I made money. More challenges followed, onlytheypicked the women.”
“All mated?”
Archer sat on the bench and averted his eyes. “Yeah. The more unattainable, the higher the stakes.”
