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It didn't help that Nash was now joined by two of his equally shirtless friends, Noah and Hunter, who were now also handling branches and wooden blocks and talking loudly about football. Or that at the other end of the meadow, two grown men in sweatpants were wrestling with each other as if it were a matter of life and death, cheered on by two other guys, all of them in their thirties.

Alarik was... pulling his sweater over his head?

I blinked as he began to unbutton his shirt, his hair completely disheveled.

“What are you doing?”

Alarik looked me straight in the eye, his gaze serious as he continued to unbutton his shirt.

“We're training, Bayla Adams. The Copeland way.”

Overwhelmed, I watched as he slipped off his shirt and tossed it to the side next to his sweater.

My gaze couldn't help but fall on his brown leather belt, where the contours framing his lower abdomen and the clearly visible veins emerged from under the waistband of his pants.

It was one thing to get used to half-naked men walking around here every day, but it was quite another when one of those men was your literature professor.

Alarik was incredibly toned, but not as bulky as Hunter or Noah. He looked more athletic, his arm muscles well-defined, his chest firm, covered with scars that looked like claw marks.

“Did that hurt?” I asked, pointing to his smooth chest to distract myself from the heat in my cheeks.

Alarik's smirk returned.

“They're from competitions and games. Nothing special.” He tapped a particularly thick scar. “A deer gored me here.”

I grimaced, feeling the pain in my own chest.

Alarik grinned.

“Take off your coat.”

His gaze lingered for a moment on the raven pin.

I could only stare at him.

“You need to be able to move,” he explained, turning away and bending down to pick up a large stick and I couldn't help but notice how toned his back was. “Besides, you shouldn't give the impression that you're freezing to death here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I'm inconspicuous.”

Alarik chuckled softly, broke the stick in half, and bent down to pick up a thicker one that looked very sturdy.

“You make me want to wrap you in a blanket and put you in front of the fireplace, so blue are your fingers from the cold, even though spring is just around the corner.”

Spring is just around the corner? Spring looked different to me than what was happening here in mid-February – in the Pacific Northwest part of Canada, mind you – which prompted all the Senseque to take off their winter T-shirts.

Caught out, I looked at my fingertips. And indeed...

“Do you want my brother to lock you up in the dungeon right away?”

I looked at Alarik with slightly raised eyebrows.

“You have a dungeon?”

He nodded.

“Originally for wild Senseque who refused to join the pack, or for those times when wild wolves were actively hunted down in Blairville. Basically as a hiding place for full moon nights.” I nodded, fascinated. “Nowadays, it's only used for young wolves who are transforming for the first time and can't control themselves.”

Something inside me wanted to explore this dungeon, but something else knew that it was absolutely not a good idea. Who knew if I would ever get out of there, especially with my luck. I might end up locking myself in...