Leaning in close, I whisper, "That all you got?"
Mona narrows her eyes, one middle finger rising from her fist. I can't help it—I laugh and snatch her peachy wrist, running my nose along her pulse point, inhaling her scent, then take a playful bite of her finger. Her omega shivers, so I tease her more, relishing the honey scent that blooms between us. Her perfume, so distinct and rich, I've forgotten we're in a room full of people. "I love how you flirt with me, firefly."
She tries to hold back her smile, but fails, and hope builds in my chest. I clear my throat and kneel down to flip the tire, showing her proper form.
"Repetition is key for muscle memory," I say, trying not to let my gaze linger on the way her body moves. "You can't always rely on your wolf's strength. Come on, just two more reps. Even my deltas can do it."
Her cheeks flush a bright red that spreads down her neck and blooms across her freckled chest above her tank top, like she's actually struggling to lift the tire. This might be a bigger problem than I realized.
"You know, when I told you this morning that my wolf and I needed to get stronger, I thought you'd just give me some protein powder or something." Her voice strains as she bends to grip the tire and try again, arms shaking with effort, and when the tire finally lifts, she lets out a triumphant sound that sends pride straight through me. The celebration distracts her, though, and the tire wobbles backward toward her.
I'm there in an instant, my chest against her back as I catch the tire with one hand. I hold the position longer than necessary, breathing in the scent at the nape of her neck.
"Show off," she murmurs, voice slightly breathless. She ducks and steps away before I let the tire fall. It's bigger than she is. "You guys seriously do this for fun?" Her eyes drop to my arms, my chest, but then she looks away.
There's a smile in my voice when I say, "Not for fun. For protection."
"Against what?"
I shrug. "Many things. Rogue wolves. It was rogues who attacked our clan fifty years ago and killed Gray's family. Lots of families. We're one of the most organized clans on the planet, a lot of shifters want what we have. There're also humans who have something against our existence. Witches."
She flinches at the word. I may not think she has anything to do with the witches, but they're still a problem she needs to be aware of.
Mona takes a step away from the tire, clearly done with conditioning.
I whistle, and one of the younger betas who work the enforcer gym—starting on the bottom, working their way up—rushes over. He blushes and drops his head in respect for Mona before turning to address me, though his eyes keep drifting back to her.
"Reset the training course. Then I want you to head north to Jagged Creek. Kellen and Eli should be out there somewhere, checking the boundaries. Find them, report back."
He nods, and after dragging his eyes away from Mona, he hurries to fix the tires so he can shift and head north, up the mountain. Kid's twenty, only a few years younger than Mona, but the difference between them is drastic.
Mona carries herself with a kind of confident indifference. She's sarcastic and witty, and strange. But sweet, too. I think all the attention makes her uncomfortable, so we've been trying to ease her into it. Hilde and Doc helped spread the word not to approach our new omega, and you can physically see the wolves holding themselves back. She has no idea how hard they're trying.
I nudge Mona's shoulder. "We need to talk more about that thing you mentioned at breakfast." Around us, nosy wolves pretend to focus on their workouts, as if their ears aren't twitching with every word we exchange. The air in here is stifling. Sweaty shifters, body odor, metal and rubber mats. Their fascination is just making it worse.
Mona slows, flicking a glance over her shoulder. I don't need to turn around to know that every one of them is listening.
"Which thing?"
"Not here." I tilt my head toward the exit. I don't want to broadcast what she revealed over breakfast—that beyond being a late-blooming wolf, and an omega, and her wolf speaking to her—she can barely hold her wolf form for longer than a few hours, and that it takes several minutes to shift.
Most shifters transition effortlessly. Some are faster than others, sure, but it's counted in seconds, not minutes. And maintaining either form should feel indefinite, without effort.
When she casually mentioned she'd been working with Beep on stamina and asked for my advice, I kept my face neutral. Now, Mona's smile fades. "Am I in trouble or something?"
I nearly choke on a laugh. "What? Why would you be in trouble?"
She squirms, and I realize she's not being playful. She's serious. She's worried.
Fucking Grayson. It's his fault she's feeling self-conscious.
Mona lifts one shoulder and looks down at the ground, and where in the fuck did that blazing challenge in her eyes go, the one she gave me when I made her flip a tire, or the look she gave me and Doc in the hospital when we she thought we didn't believe her story?
I stare down at her, and, fuck it, I want to kiss her. Lick the worry away. Show her there's nothing she could do that could change my opinion of her. But I don't even have time to reach up and cradle her lovely face, to assure her there's nothing on this fucking planet she could ever be in trouble with me over, when the metal door to the gym swings open and in floods the crisp scent of fresh green apple and mint.
Mona stiffens beside me. My alpha bristles beneath my skin, and I snatch Mona's arm, tugging her closer. Her breath catches, and one glance tells me she's reliving the last time she saw Andrea, and it makes my blood fucking boil.
Andrea strides in like she owns the fucking place, workout clothes clinging to her slender frame.
