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“Some?”
“Just basic stuff you need. Here.” He grabs a stack of clothes carefully arranged on a box tower. “Workout gear. Figured we’ll hit the gym when Orion goes to class. I want to see what you can really do.” There’s a smirking challenge in his eye.
Like, seriously?
Did someone give him a map of my buttons?
Hunter knows exactly where to push and just how hard.
If he ever gets his hands on me, I’ll fucking combust.
But so might the kitchen.
Orion coughs over the stove as the room fills with smoke, so I take the easy out and hurry to change before he sets off the alarm.
Hunter’s stack has everything. A pair of thick, expensive leggings with cutout stripes, a fitted tank, a cute long sleeve, and perfectly sized underwear, sports bras, and socks.
When I slip them on, my shriveled omega heart expands two sizes and gives a squee that I fight to muffle.
I know I said Wyvern gifts come with twisty Wyvern strings, buuuuut…
The leggings make my ass look fantastic and the matching galaxy-print top has thumb holes.
The on-purpose kind.
Not the ones you get when your sleeves fall off from old age. I give my threadbare sweats a last salute before tossing them in the trash.
Goodbye integrity, hello athleisure.
I don’t forget to keep myself in check.
Hunter’s the one who took care of me from the beginning. He bandaged my feet and made sure I got fed, but he was only doing the minimum you’d do for a stray dog.
Give them a bowl and a place to curl up in the basement.
So, yeah, I have to deal with the constant urge to lick his tattoos, but he was the one Wyvern who could’ve done better.
Now if he wants to watch, have at it.
He can watch my legging-lifted ass disappear.
After walking Orion to class, Hunter and I hit the sports complex. The halls are weirdly empty. We enter a silent training room filled with mats and punching bags, and unless someone changed the schedule, there should be a self-defense class in full swing. “Did you rent the room?”
“Fired the trainer.”
“Barb? Way to take out the trash.” She used to use me as her test dummy for judo throws.
“We’re going to protect you, Lilah.”
I’m not so oblivious I can’t see Hunter making an effort.
But, I also see the bloodstain ingrained in the corner carpet. From when I was maybe ten?
I’d just gotten off a punishment for fighting, and I was starving, but Trainer Barb forced me to class. When she demonstrated punches and made me hold the bag, my arms couldn’t match her strength.
The bag cracked my face, giving me a nosebleed and a split lip.
Protect me?
