"I am aware."
"And probably kind of intense."
"I am counting on it."
Heat floods my face.
Because I know exactly what he's doing.
He's not just asking me to teach his team.
He's asking me toclaimhim.
In front of everyone.
To put my hands on his body, to demonstrate my expertise, to show every single person in that room that I am not just his mate—I am hisequal.
"Okay," I say. "Let's do it."
His amber eyes flare.
And then he's leaning down, his forehead resting against mine, his hands settling on my waist with feather-light gentleness.
"You are magnificent," he says quietly.
"I'm wearing a four-thousand-dollar dress and standing on a pedestal," I say. "I'm pretty sure that's doing most of the heavy lifting."
"No. You are magnificent because you areyou.The dress is simply... appropriate armor."
I laugh.
It's breathless and shaky and completely genuine.
"Silk armor," I say. "That's a new one."
"It suits you."
"Yeah. I guess it does."
The Aegis tactical training floor ismassive.
Floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Polished concrete floors. Reinforced sparring mats spread across the center of the space. High ceilings with exposed steel beams and industrial lighting that casts everything in stark, clinical brightness.
It's empty.
Completely empty.
Just me and Cyprian and about ten thousand square feet of open space.
"This is where your team trains?" I ask.
"Yes. Combat drills. Tactical simulations. Physical conditioning."
"It's huge."
"We require space."
He walks over to the center mat, his wings shifting slightly as he moves.
