Though, admittedly, our moments as a pack were just as memorable.
We all simply fit together. We worked somehow. A one-in-a-million scent-matching. Eros had that part right.
“Not sure I’m ready for heavier.” Tessa stared up at me, the bar blocking part of her face as I gazed downward. Her ponytail splayed to one side, curls falling over the bench. “My arms hurt like hell for a solid week the last time we raised the weights.”
“You’re ready,” I confirmed, trying to build her confidence.
“If you say so,” she still sounded unsure of herself. She raised her arms, fingers curling around the bar.
She planted her feet firmly, arched her back slightly, and began to lift the bar from its cradle.
I hovered my hands in position, just in case.
Expression determined, brows knitting together and causing an adorable wrinkle between, she steadily, slowly, lowered the bar fitted with thirty pounds on each side. It wasn't impressive against my three hundred, but it was a kick ass accomplishment from where she’d started—joking how she had a body built for dumpster diving, not defending herself. Weak muscles, severely malnourished, thinner than she should be… all things Eros worked hard to disguise before her arrival.
I still wished I could get my hands on those bastards. Break a few bones. Snap a few necks. And that wasn’t ferality speaking; that was good old-fashioned anger.
But we’d had our personal lawyers investigate Eros. What we’dsigned when securing their services was rock-solid, with zero loopholes. If we pursued the matter, fought against the way Tessa became an Eros product, then we’d end up incriminating ourselves too. Tessa tried as well, having Johnas, Bridgers, and Burr subpoena copies of everything she’d signed. A similar NDA, a release of rights, a guarantee she’d not sue Eros, or any of its sister companies and staff. Endless ass-covering nestled in mile-long fine print. Digging deeper landed Johnas and his partners in deep water, receiving a cease-and-desist letter backed by pressure from assholes in the Capital.
Money and power, far exceeding our own, stood in the shadows behind the Eros Institute. Someday though, they’d do something that pissed off the wrong person, someone who could take them head on.
Tessa grunted, pushing the bar back up and pulling me out of my thoughts. She hesitated once her elbows were fully extended. I watched but didn’t panic. My girl could handle it.
That thought made me grin like a fool.My girl. Our girl. Oblivion Haze’s Omega.
Her breasts stressed the thin material of the stupidest t-shirt I’d bought her so far. Pitch black, featuring several flying white bats and big, bold letters across the chest which read, “Oh, look! Sky kittens!”. She’d laughed for fifteen minutes straight. The very next week, she’d surprised me with a microwavable bat compress—for my ‘old man’ chronic shoulder pain—and tickets to an after-dark bat exhibit at a facility in Santa Barbara. And she’d done it just to see if I’d act like a kid at Christmas.
I did. Damn her for being so fucking adorable.
She had this way of catching me off-guard. I’d spent half my adult life making sure no one other than my pack brothers ever got close enough to fuck with me. Then, out of nowhere, this petite Omega with her fierce will to live and endless supply of positivity came along and made herself right at home in my chest cavity.
And she’d just finished another rep.
“Sixty pounds, babe. I told you.” I sounded like a proud coach. And, I was. She’d come so far. Impressed the hell out of me.
Her mouth curved into a slight smile but then straightened again asshe concentrated on lowering the bar once more. The shirt slipped up, revealing her toned stomach. The leggings were folded low at the waist, revealing the belly button piercing she’d gotten with Tray. A little music note dangled, its gems catching light and sparkling.Soooofucking sexy.
“Think you got one more in you?” I pushed her as she finished her tenth. Ten was the goal, but I always asked for one more. Just one more. It proved to her that she could go past her limits, every time.
“One… more…” she grunted out, arms shaking a bit this time. But she did it, bringing the bar back to rest in its stand. Instantly, her posture melted, back falling against the black leather bench. I let her breathe, recovering for a heartbeat.
“Push to eighty next time?” I teased as she sat up and swiped beads of sweat from her forehead.
“Don’t start. I amnotraising the weights anytime soon.”
“Come on,” I goaded, “how about seventy? You can handle ten more.”
“Maybe next month,” she turned, sitting sideways and cocking one leg up. “What’s next?”
“We could switch to cardio again?” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.
“No, today is arm day. Tomorrow is leg day.” She smirked, knowing my exact meaning.
“I think we need to get our heart rates up,” I shrugged, acting totally innocent.
Tessa stood, skipping towards me and throwing her arms around my neck. “Remember, we’re supposed to stay focused on our work out. We said we wouldn’t get thrown off course again.”
“I don’t remember saying that.” I shook my head, wrapping my arms around her waist.
