Aria
I’m staring at Lucas like he’s just asked me to calculate Pi to the thousandth decimal. Lost for words doesn’t even cover it. What the actual fuck is Serena’s deal? Seriously, who wakes up and decides to ruin someone else’s life for fun? I’m still processing when Lucas gives me that look…the “don’t bullshit me” glare he’s perfected.
I force out a laugh. “It’s nothing.”
Lucas doesn’t buy it for a second, his brows knitting together. “Nothing? Try again, Aria.”
“No, I mean…” I scramble for something, anything. “It’s Vanessa.”
“Vanessa?” His frown deepens.
“Yeah, her face. I think Ethan hit her.” The lie tumbles out, and I’m already regretting it.
“What?” Lucas’s voice drops a notch, and it’s terrifyingly calm. “Was he like that with you?”
“No, no!” I shake my head, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m just… surprised he’d do something like that. I told her to leave him, but she refused.”
Lucas nods slowly, his jaw tight. “She’s ambitious. That kind of drive makes people blind.”
“Exactly.” Relief floods through me as I successfully steer the conversation away from Serena. Linking my arm with his, I tug him toward the game room. “Come on, let’s go.”
We walk in silence until we reach the game room. The moment we step inside, it’s like we’ve announced a zombie apocalypse. Chairs screech, footsteps thunder, and within seconds, the room is as empty as a bad karaoke night.
“What the fuck?” I glance up at Lucas, eyebrows raised. “Why are they so scared of you?”
He just shrugs, all calm and unaffected, and gestures toward the cabin like nothing happened.
Stepping inside the cabin, my mind freezes. Flashes of last night flood back…us on the bed, then in the bathroom, his hands, his lips… Goddess, I feel a shiver run down my spine just thinking about it.
“Where’s your head at?” Lucas’s voice snaps me back, and I catch him smirking.
“Nowhere,” I mumble, my cheeks heating as I avoid his gaze.
“Good,” he says, and his smirk morphs into something far more devilish. “Because we’re here for business, not fucking.”
“What?!” I glare at him. “I wasn’t even-”
“Yeah, sure.” He scoffs, shrugging off his jacket. Before I can blink, he’s yanking off his T-shirt, revealing those broad, stupidly ripped shoulders and that stupidly perfect chest.
Fuck me. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my eyes on his face, but nope. My traitor eyes have other plans.
“Your jacket,” he says, pointing.
I blink. “Huh?”
“Take it off,” he orders, his voice dropping in a way that makes my knees wobbly.
I peel off my jacket and toss it onto the couch, left in just a thin pink shirt that suddenly feels like too much and not enough at the same time.
“Today’s lesson is stamina,” he announces, stepping closer. “You need to hold your ground and not fall from just any push.”
“Got it,” I mumble, already regretting my life choices.
“Come here.” He points to the space in front of him, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Gosh, he’s so fucking bossy.
I step forward, and he grips my shoulders, tilting my chin up with his hand. His eyes lock onto mine, all serious and intimidating. “Right now, I’m not Lucas, your boyfriend. I’m your master. When I call you, you come. Understood?”
Oh, the arrogance. I want to slap that cocky look off his face, but instead, I nod. “Yes, Alpha.”
“Good. Now, drop down and give me fifty push-ups.”
“Excuse me?” My eyes almost pop out of my skull. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking? Get down.” His voice rumbles like thunder, and I find myself dropping before I even realize what I’m doing.
“One… two… three…” He counts out loud, but he’s going way too fast. By the time I hit fifty, my arms feel like Jelly, and I collapse onto the floor, panting like I just ran a marathon.
“Get up.”
“You’re kidding.” I glare at him, and he glares right back.
“Now.”
Groaning, I drag myself to my feet. “What’s next? Running laps?”
“Squats. Assume position.”
With a dramatic sigh, I bend my knees, already regretting every life choice that led me here.
“Up. Down.” He’s relentless. After what feels like forever, he tells me to hold the squat.
And then, because he’s an asshole…he grabs a water bottle, sits on the couch, and starts drinking. Drinking.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I shoot daggers at him with my eyes.
His lips twitch. “What if I am?”
I groan, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“This is training,” he says, leaning back like a king on his throne. “Have you ever done pack warrior training before?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t allowed.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m here…. make sure you’re strong. Now stop complaining and focus.”
I roll my eyes again, and his head snaps up. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“No,” I lie.
“Stand up.”
I straighten, confused.
“Turn around.”
“What the hell-“