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I left out the part about Julian. He didn't need to know everything.

Now he gave me a sideways glance too. “I hope you weren't too open.”

“In what way?”

He looked around to the right and left, just as Tania had done earlier.

“You have to be careful, even though I don't think Tania would ever mean you any harm. She holds... rather conservative views, blinded by her brother.”

“You seem to know her very well,” I noted, looking questioningly at Alarik.

“They are our guests.” He didn’t look at me, but straight ahead. “Always know who sleeps under your roof.”

I bit my tongue.

If only he knew what he had brought into his family's house… And I didn’t mean Julian’s mother.

I looked at the lawn in front of us and held my breath.

Panic shot through my body when I realized where Alarik was taking me.

Nash stood shirtless on the lawn, elegantly sending a massive branch flying upward that threatened to hit him as it fell.

Alarmed, I sighed and stopped, but Nash slammed his fist against the wood, and it splintered in midair.

I swallowed.

That could just as easily have been my arm.

“Don't worry, he didn't hurt himself.”

In disbelief, I looked at Alarik, who didn't seem to notice my distress at all. He gently placed his hand on my lower back, so that for a split second my overwhelmed mind could focus only on his touch, and pushed me further in Nash's direction.

“Wait, wait... What are you doing?” I asked quickly, hoping we would walk past him.

“You're going to train.”

I had understood that. But...

“I thought if I did, I would train with you.”

He had actually given up on training me because he knew I wasn't a Senseque, had explained that Emely would take care of me.

So what in God's name did this mean?

“Unfortunately, that's not possible.” My eyes widened, and I looked at Alarik. “I still have some essays to correct.”

His essays could wait, couldn't they? My gaze became even more desperate when Nash threw up half a tree trunk and repeated the same show again.

“I can help you...”

Alarik stopped.

Had I seriously just offered to help him correct his essays? Me? A second-semester student? Was I that desperate? Or was it just the image of Nash Copeland, shirtless, smashing tree trunks as if they were Lego bricks he had stepped on for the tenth time?

“I could be your student assistant,” I quickly continued. It was too late to back out anyway.

Alarik raised both eyebrows, and the right corner of his mouth turned up.