Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I glanced at the clock. “Great, now I’m late,” I said as I hurried out of our room.
“Your legs look great,” Holly called after me.
“No running in the corridors!” Mrs. Finnigan, Major’s secretary, shouted. I’d never seen her run in the corridors. The sloth was probably her spirit animal. I stumbled down the staircase, hurrying as fast as I could to the ground floor.
Within a minute, I arrived in the dojo, breathless from running four floors. I glanced over the green mats, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and suspended punching bags.
Alec was practicing high-kicks on one of the bags. I stopped short in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only black training pants. His muscles tensed with every kick and the artificial light of the halogen lamps made his skin look golden. A large black dragon tattoo covered his right shoulder, hiding the scar he got as a small boy. He’d fallen through a banister, down two floors, after his parents had abandoned him in a crowded mall the day before Christmas. He shouldn’t have survived the fall, but his Variation saved him. Alec always said his Variation helped him cheat death but the FEA helped him survive. He had more scars scattered across his body, from missions I had been too inexperienced to join—until now.
Without looking over at me, he said, “You’re two minutes late.” He did another kick before he turned around.
His eyes immediately dropped to read the words on my chest. Warmth crawled up my neck and I promised myself I’d thank Holly later.
He tore his gaze away from my breasts and looked at my face, showing not a hint of embarrassment. “Nice shirt,” he said dryly. “Oh, and twenty push-ups for being late.”
My smile faded. I walked up to him, trying my best not to openly admire the display of muscles on his chest. “Oh come on, Alec. Don’t act all high and mighty. You’re not Major.”
His gray eyes held mine, his expression hard. “Thirty push-ups, Tess.” His voice was strained.
Every time he used that nickname, I wanted to bury my nose in his neck and let him hold me. Many years ago, my mom had called me that. Back when she’d still cared for me, maybe even loved me.
I got down on my knees and supported my weight with my arms. The first few push-ups were okay, the following ones not as much, and by the time I reached number twenty my arms began to quiver.
“You should work out more often. Your arm muscles are almost nonexistent.”
What the hell. Was he trying to be funny? My arms weren’t that bad. Not everyone could be as strong and muscley as Alec. Actually, nobody was.
“Shut up,” I retorted.
I pushed myself up again. Only ten more to go. The mat beneath my body was the same pale green as the hospital gown Madison wore. A vivid image of her frail body flashed before my eyes. My arms gave way and my face hit the mat. The faint smell of feet and sweat crawled into my nose.
“Tess?” Alec put a warm hand on my shoulder. His voice was colored with worry.
He sat down beside me and silence settled around us. “Do you want to talk about it?” Suddenly, I wanted to talk to him, wanted to tell him everything—much more than my thoughts about Madison. I pulled away. “No. Let’s practice.”
“You sure? I can tell Holly and Tanner that training is postponed.”
I jumped to my feet. “I’m fine.”
Alec took it easy on me after that. I could tell. My high-kicks were miserable. There was barely any power behind them. I had horrible aim and was out of breath within a few minutes. But every time I tried to summon my power, I was haunted by thoughts of Madison. Madison, the girl only a few days older than me who was dying. The girl who wanted to become a vet. The girl who wanted to spend a year living abroad after high school. The girl who never would.
“Let’s see how good you are at getting rid of an attacker.”
I nodded, glad for the distraction.
Alec wrapped his arms around my waist and tried to drag me away. My attempts at stomping on his foot or kicking his shin were half-hearted at best. The feel of his naked chest pressed against my back wasn’t something I was desperate to get rid of. I wanted more, wanted to feel every inch of his body against me. Would I ever be able to get over my crush for him? I seriously doubted it.
“You’re not really trying, Tess.” His lips brushed my ear as he spoke and a shiver shot through my body. My muscles went slack, any will to defend myself against him gone. His closeness felt so good, so right. I leaned my head back against his chest. He smelled like a spring morning in the woods, like spearmint and something spicy. Deep down I knew I shouldn’t crave his closeness as much as I did. I shouldn’t want him at all. He wasn’t mine to want.