The treadmill was definitely a stupid choice, Brit.
If anyone made a snide comment, I'd claim habit as my excuse. Then I got mad at myself for feeling like I had to justify my actions. I hadn't before. I wasn't going to now. I enjoyed running. So what if I preferred it in biped mode?
I kicked up the tempo and could hear my feet pounding the rubber over Carrie Underwood's voice blasting through my earbuds. She was singing about a guy who wouldn't call, which made me look over at Connor. In one hand, he held a large dumbbell. He curled it up and down with movements so smooth that I almost didn't believe the 40 LBS. stamped on its side. He was wearing shorts and a black T-shirt with the sleeves torn away, leaving ragged edges that made me think he'd used his teeth. It was stupid to find a ratty old T-shirt sexy but I did. He was ripped, of course, like most of the guys were.
I knew he'd been working out for a while because a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. He still hadn't bothered to shave and his hair looked even more unkempt. He looked rugged and dangerous, a guy accustomed to always winning. Little wonder he wasn't in the happiest of moods since the full moon.
Some of the guys were talking to one another, the occasional bark of laughter echoing through the room. But no one talked to him, no one bothered him.
He swung his head in my direction, and I averted my gaze so fast that my eyes nearly bounced around in their sockets. I immediately regretted my reaction. What did I care if he caught me staring at him?
I thought about last night when his gaze had dropped to my lips. I thought about breakfast when I'd caught him studying me, and I remembered the tension between us during the meeting. That electricity had always been one-sided, but now it felt as though it might be flowing both ways.
And just as I had that thought, the fine hairs on my arms raised just a little. I slid my eyes over to Connor. He was looking in the mirror in front of him, but it was obvious that he was looking at me and not himself. He didn't flinch or avert his gaze; his concentration was centered on me. He was still working the weight and his jaw was clenched as though he was straining against something. And I didn't think it was the weight of the dumbbell. It looked like child's play for him.
I wanted to think of something clever to say, something that would indicate that I could take him or leave him—or would indicate my interest if he was interested. I'd never played any of these flirting games. I needed to do a little research, check out some chick flicks with Kate Hudson or Drew Barrymore. But would the torture be worth it? I was more into action flicks.
Before the last full moon, I'd always been honest and upfront with people. Lately I felt as though I wasn't even walking in my own skin anymore.
But I couldn't think of anything to say to Connor. I didn't look away and neither did he. He was slowing his reps and I could see the slightest quiver in his muscles. He probably needed to stop, but he kept going. Watching him straining like that did something to my insides. Suddenly I was fighting to draw in air. I pressed the cool-down button and began slowing my steps to keep up with the machine's preparing to shut down.
I never took my gaze from Connor's. When I finally stopped, I removed my earbuds and stuffed them in my shorts pocket. I wiped the towel over my face, burying it in the soft cotton and mentally preparing myself for what I planned to do.
As deliberately as possible, I walked over to the bench beside Connor, sat, and pulled off my T-shirt, relishing the feel of cool air hitting the damp skin around my sports bra. Watching Connor in the mirror, I thought it looked as though his movements faltered. His eyes narrowed. He started pumping faster. I had this crazy moment of feeling like I was tormenting him, that perhaps he was finally really taking notice of me.
Reaching down, I wrapped a hand around a ten-pound weight. I began mimicking his movements, all the while acutely aware of his gaze wandering over me. I grew warm and languid, the kind of feeling I had when I went to the spa with my mom and spoiled myself with a hot stone massage.
"What are you staring at?" I finally asked.
He shook his head, but didn't look away. "None of the other girls are as devoted to working out as you are."
"I can't help it if they're slackers. I want to be the best Dark Guardian there is, and that means staying in shape."
"Guys will always be better Guardians than girls," someone said.
I jerked my head over to where Drew, a novice, was doing leg squats. It always seemed to me that the novices were a little too cocky when everyone knew that a true Guardian could kick their butts around the moon.
"I could outrun you," I said.
"That's stamina not strength."
"So what do you want to do? See who can lift the most weight?"
Grinning, he shook his head. Drew was known for liking to get physical, for inciting fights. I didn't know if the guy was going to make it as a Dark Guardian. He had anger issues he needed to get under control. Around him, a couple of guys stopped what they were doing to pay more attention to us.
"Leave her alone, Drew," Connor said.
"I can fight my own battles," I told him.
He rolled his eyes, demonstrating his impatience with me.
"Isn't that what being a Guardian is about?" I asked.
"It's about fighting with the pack," Connor said.
I knew he was right. It irritated me that he was right. But his order to leave me alone was followed as everyone returned to concentrating on his exercises. When Connor barked, the others usually jumped. I figured if he wasn't good friends with Lucas, if he didn't believe our kind needed to behave with more civility, he might have challenged Lucas for pack leader. I had no doubt he would have won.
In spite of his usual good humor, which had apparently gone into hiding since Lindsey's betrayal, he was one of the toughest Guardians.
So why hadn't he beat Rafe?
"So what's up with you and Daniel?" Connor asked in a low voice.
I almost lost my rhythm. I switched the weight to the other hand while he did the same. "What are you talking about?"
"This morning at breakfast, the way you were acting. Looked like you were reconsidering him for a mate."
"Jealous?" I asked. I realized the moment the words left my mouth that it was the wrong ploy.
"Just curious."
"He's a nice guy, but that's all."
Something shifted between us that I couldn't quite identify. Connor sped up his movements, grunting louder, pumping harder. His eyes were on my reflection in the mirror. I began to move in tandem. The air was thick with heat, as though we were engaged in a contest of wills and weights. The sweat glistened on my skin. I felt a drop roll down the center of my stomach, and watched as Connor's gaze followed it until it reached the waistband of my shorts and was absorbed into the material. His grunts got deeper, harsher. A feral glint lit his eyes. For the first time, in human form, he resembled the ferocious wolf he could transform into. I wasn't sure what was making me more breathless. The way Connor looked or the weight of the dumbbell I was lifting.