Page 166 of Heart of Frost and Scars

Communication is vital to our relationship. It got us through the darkest hours in the hills. She refused to let us hide from our feelings then, and I’ll be damned if she tries to hide from us now.

“What’s going on with her?” I haul myself out of the pool and shake the water from my hair. “She’s putting up walls. That’s not like her.”

“She hasn’t forgiven us for getting arrested.” Kody tosses me a towel and wraps another one around his hips.

“Yeah, but there’s more to it.”

“Like our refusal to go to therapy? The prospect of us spending the next few days with Sirena? The bloody goddamn heart that was delivered? Or how about the fact that she’s trapped on this island until we find the threat against her?”

Every one of those things seeps into the back of my throat and burns there.

Our gazes collide, sparking an unspoken understanding.

She chose us, and we need to remind her why.

After we dry off and put on workout clothes, we find her in the gym, running on the treadmill. She hates that machine, but the summer heat has kept her off the outdoor tracks.

The sound of her feet hitting the belt doesn’t slow as we stride in and strip off our shirts.

We’ve worked hard on our bodies over the past ten weeks, our muscles more honed than ever thanks to Monty’s top-of-the-line equipment.

I catch her eye in the mirror, offering a wink. Her lips twitch, but her expression remains focused on the run.

Kody heads to the weight rack, and I join him, picking up a heavy set of dumbbells.

We stand in front of the mirror, muscles coiled and tense, and put our heads in the zone.

For me, I only need to think of her. My woman. My forever. The one I fight for and protect. She deserves my strength. My dedication. She deserves the best of me.

Here we go.

Tightening my grip, I lift. Veins bulge. Muscle fibers ripple. Sinews and tendons work together. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts, the sound of primitive aggression.

Meeting her eyes in the mirror, I curl the next rep.

She stumbles on the treadmill, nearly flying off.

Before I can turn, she rights herself, glaring in my direction.

She can glare all she wants. I’m her predator. Her warrior.

I hunt for her. Not for food, not anymore. I hunt for danger. I fight for dominance. Every rep, every set is a battle, and my body is a knife, honed and sharpened.

I lift for her. Each drop of sweat and groan of pain is for her.

My reflection stares back at me, eyes on fire, teeth bared, expression unyielding.

Kody stands beside me, grunting through his mental zone, his physique impressive, stacked muscles bouncing with every movement. Weights clank, a savage symphony that echoes our raw, untamed power.

The dumbbell slams back onto the rack with a triumphant roar. I stand tall, chest heaving, heart pounding. My muscles ache. My body burns. But it’s a good pain. I’m fucking strong. Capable.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I grab the weights again, ready for the next set. Ready to prove, over and over, that I’m worthy, that I’m the savage warrior she needs.

She smacks the power button on the treadmill and jumps off, her face flushed with exertion, frustration, and longing.

Kody and I set down the weights and turn toward her.

“What are you two doing?” She rests a fist on her cocked hip.

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