#Chapter 113: Working Through It

DEREK There were only so many cold showers a man could take. I gritted my teeth, sweat dripping from my brow as I drove my elbow into Kieran’s gut and pivoted just in time to avoid a sweeping leg kick from Brock. The Silverclaw training grounds echoed with the sound of fists hitting flesh and bodies slamming against the dirt, but I barely heard it over the pounding in my head. The grotto. Elena’s mouth. The moonlight on her skin. The way her body fit against mine like the missing half of something I hadn’t realized was missing until it clicked into place. And then she’d run. It didn’t matter how many times I replayed it—her whisper of “I can’t,” the way her eyes had gone wide with something like fear, or grief, or both. I couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t stop feeling the ghost of her touch. So I fought. “Come on!” I barked, dodging Brock’s strike and sending Kieran sprawling with a shoulder slam. “You both still breathing?” “Barely,” Brock grunted, shaking out his arm. “Ge