Chapter 23

Luka

“You didn’t have to, Caleb.” I could feel myself blushing.

“I know.” He looked over his shoulder with a smile as he walked toward a storage closet in the fitness room. I looked at him in the mirror to see the elegance of his stride, especially when he was at a relaxed pace. It was so rare.

It was a small box, wrapped with dark blue wrapping paper with ribbon. I unwrapped it methodically, not wanting to rip it. It was so beautiful.

“You don’t have to worry about ripping it. The wrapping paper isn’t a present.”

“Oh, really? Thank you.” I stuck out my tongue flirtatiously.

Once I got the wrapping paper off, it was in one of those thick paper boxes, the kind Sofia’s jewelry came in when Declan got it for her. What if it was a ring? Any jewelry would be nice. Or a barette, maybe, to keep my hair out of my face.

I opened it carefully, wanting to savor it. Inside it was…socks? What?

“Oh. Thank you.”

“They’re nice, aren’t they? Something that won’t collect sweat.”

Was he trying to tell me my feet smelled? I didn’t know what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t that.

He looked at me expectantly, like I was supposed to eagerly try them on. I humored him, but I just wanted to get to the yoga so I could hide my disappointment.

“They fit! Great. You always need a good pair of training socks.”

“Mm-hmm.”

As we went through a circuit of usual poses, I kept hoping he’d come over and position me, correct my poses, feel my body with his hands. I even contemplated doing a few of the poses wrong so he would have to correct me, but I didn’t want him to think I was incompetent. He already knew I was illiterate.

“Now, tree pose,” he said.

I put my hands perpendicular.

“No, no, not ‘T’ pose. Tree pose.” I expected him to smile, but he didn’t.

“Oh, okay.”

“Just watch me first, then I’ll come over.”

Yes! Finally.

He stood straight in mountain pose, then crooked one leg to rest the arch of his foot on the side of his knee, and followed that by clasping his hands together, like he was praying.

I nodded, with a puzzled expression. It didn’t look too difficult, but I wanted him to think I did. I wanted him to come over and touch me, craved it.

“You wanna try it on your own?”

“Well…I would…but…my stomach has been bothering me…” My stomach actually felt fine, mostly healed, but if he thought it was hard for me, he might be more inclined to position my body the right way.

“Oh, right. Let’s not do that one, then.”

Shit. Wrong strategy.

First socks, then not touching me. I wondered: Was it just because I was learning and he wanted to make sure I got the movements that he touched me so much before? It was hard not to think of it as intimate. But he had spent years training not just with the pack, but some of the most talented coaches and trainers in the kingdom.

Of course. It’s just a workout. The realization hit me.

“You feeling okay, Luka? How’s the stomach? Do you need some ice? I can get Vincent…”

“Oh, I think I’m okay. Thank you for asking.”

“Great. Let’s do some sitting poses, then, and then we’ll finish and get lunch.”

I nodded. Was he sick of me? Or had he always just been tolerating me? I knew I couldn’t ask. And what would I do if he said no? I either wanted to hear the right answer, or I didn’t want to hear it at all, so what was the point?

The next day, I tried not to get my hopes up. I loved doing these stretches and feeling my body getting stronger, but getting to merge with Caleb was the best part of it.

When I entered the fitness studio, the yoga mats were gone, replaced by puffy leather mats with some bounce and give.

“No mats today?” I asked.

“No yoga today.”

“Gymnastics?”

“Ha, no. If you can’t do the tree pose, how are you going to do handsprings?”

“I don’t know what those are.”

“This.” He backed up, did a small controlled sprint, and flipped over and over twice, like he was made of rubber.

“Wow. That’s…”

“It’s nothing. Like I said, growing up, my whole life was training. What good would it have been if none of it sunk in?”

“If that’s nothing…”

“I’m not expecting you to be me.”

Ouch.

“We’re going to wade into combat training again.”

“With the group?” I asked brightly. I immediately felt bad for my enthusiasm. It was just that he was so chatty last week, sharing things about his childhood, his family, the story behind his superstition about the number nine, starting out with a terrible ninth birthday. And this week, it was like he wanted me to know he had better things to do.

He didn’t have to be the one training me if he didn’t want to be here.

“With me. If it were with the group, I’d tell you.”

To my surprise, he positioned me right away, even before showing me how to start. His hands were like waves over me, rippling my skin, sending electrical flashes. I liked the feeling of him directly handling my body, taking over for me.

After adjusting me, he did the mirror image of the stance. The absence was palpable after being close to him.

“This is the sparring position before a match.”

With one quick motion, he lifted me and flipped me, and I screamed. I landed on the mat softly, and yelped in surprise.

“Wow.”

“Cool, right? Do you know the lesson there?”

“That I need to eat more so you won’t be able to lift me?”

He laughed, almost derisively. “I can lift men three times your size—while they’re trying to bring me down. No.”

“I’m stumped then.”

“That surprise is one of the best strategies on your side. Use it to your advantage.”

I lifted up a leg to kick him, to demonstrate the lesson, and he caught my foot in his hands without flinching.

“And there’s your second lesson.” He held onto my calf with one hand, holding me tightly but carefully, and held one of my hands in the other, keeping me in a strange triangular shape.

“Don’t fight Caleb Archer?”

He laughed, stroking my leg before putting me down. “That surprise is no substitute for skill.”

It was a new phase. Not better or worse than yoga, just different. The stretching and strengthening of the yoga poses helped me get into the poses for combat training. Before, fighting with the pack, I was fighting the way a little kid pretends to have a sword fight. But in the fitness studio, Caleb was teaching me how to actually win in a scrape.

Not that I’d beat him anytime soon.

Each day, we went over a new kind of fighting: krav maga, judo, jiu-jitsu, and muay thai.

I walked into the fitness studio to find lively music being pumped into the speakers, and decor I’ve never seen before. In the corner, there’s also a hammock.

“Are we power-napping today or something?” I pointed to the hammock.

“Just decorative.”

“That’s too bad.” I was definitely picturing the two of us together in it.

“Maybe afterward, if you’re good today.” I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Or if our special guest today insists on it.”

“Special guest? Who’s coming?”

I was a little disappointed that someone else would interrupt our time alone. Especially if it was a stranger or someone even worse, like Olivia.

My dread dissipated when the visitor entered the room with a flourish, waving her red scarf around while wearing a linen martial arts ensemble that looked like a luxury pantsuit.

“What are you doing here?” I squealed.