She trailed him to a smaller stretching area where the mats backed onto a mirrored section of the wall. The air conditioner was right above her, making the hairs along her arm stand on end as her sweat dried under the frigid breeze. He pulled a yoga mat from the wall and flicked it out, settling it over the ground.
“I can do whatever the others are doing,” she insisted quietly, just out of pure stubbornness. She obviously couldn’t. There was strong, and then there was Alpha strong. If Elijah threw a medicine ball at her with that much force, it wouldn’t just break her ribs, it would break her, and then probably go through the floor beneath her.
Easton smirked like he knew what she was thinking. “On the mat, Carter. Floor work for you. I’m sorry you had to be here, but I’m sure you can make use of the time?”
She shrugged, her attention snapping between him and the mat. “Of course.”
“Professor.”
She blinked. “Sorry, Professor.” Usually, Easton let it slip when she didn’t call him professor. Kalen was the one who pulled her up on it every time, a hint of iron lining the soft reprimand.
Easton stared at her for a second before sighing and sinking onto the seat of the nearest weights machine. “Carter.” He paused, his mouth tightening. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” she squeaked.
His mismatched eyes narrowed. They were almost slits. “Cian sent a message—”
“Of course he did,” she grumbled.
“Professor,” he hissed.
She snapped her mouth shut, and he pulled in a deep breath, inching back until his shoulder rested against the machine behind him. He looked almost lazy, but his attention was far too heavy.
She waited for him to continue, and he waited for her to correct herself.
Swallowing, she muttered, “Professor.”
For some reason, he laughed. The sound was short and sharp, and his head fell into his hands as his broad shoulders shook, and then he was straightening again. “I know you borrowed Elijah’s power,” he said, shaking his head now. “You made Cian tell you what happened last night, didn’t you?”
She quickly moved to the mat, seating herself so that she was facing the mirror instead of him, her legs crossed.
“Sorry, Professor. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stretched out her right arm, notching it outside her left knee, and twisted her spine that way.
When she was finally, blessedly, turned fully away from him, her expression finally broke, her eyes growing wide and her lips twitching with the urge to mouth, “What the hell?” to someone. Except that the other Alphas were all busy beating each other up.
All of them except Kilian.
Since Niko had been his partner, he was mostly just moving between the other pairs, saying things she couldn’t hear, his pale eyes regularly flicking back to monitor her and Easton.
“Help,” she mouthed.
An amused smirk cracked over his face, but it was just as quickly wiped away, and he shook his head.
“Isobel.”
Her head whipped to the side, connecting with Easton’s stare before she could control her reaction. She switched her stretch to the other side, pretending it had all been part of the plan.
“Tell me what you know,” he said plainly.
“I don’t really think you want me repeating it, Professor.” She tried to direct her attention to his chin so that she didn’t break out into a nervous sweat, but she only found her attention snagging on the bruises rising out of his collar. “I don’t know where you got those marks,” she added.
“Would you like to know?” he asked, a little too casually.
An alarm immediately blared to life inside her head, telling her that she was being invited into a trap, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She nodded. A small motion, easily overlooked.
“It’s called the Stone Dahlia.” He dropped his voice until she had to lean forward to hear him. “The clubhouse your secret admirer is texting you about.” He emphasised the word “clubhouse” as though it didn’t even begin to describe it. “But we’re pretty sure it isn’t one of the students. We think it’s someone from the Track Team.”
“The … track team? As in the—”
“No.” He didn’t even wait for her to properly voice the question. “I mean the group of stupidly powerful old men who run this whole show.” He flicked his hand around, indicating the cameras stationed around the room. “The billionaires who decide which students get put on the Icon Track. They run the Stone Dahlia, and we’re going to make sure you give them what they want.”
“First …” She quickly twisted to sit on her knees facing him, gaping at him as she held up a finger. “Why? And second—” She imitated his hand flick at the cameras. “—how do you know they aren’t listening right now?”
He tugged his phone from his pocket and waved it at her. “Elijah and Gabriel have been developing a security app. If they try to turn the cameras on to spy on us during our private sessions, we’ll all get a notification.”
“Can I get that app?” She chewed on her lip, watching as his expression relaxed slightly.
Had he expected their conversation to go differently?
“Yes.” He leaned forward, his forearms planted on his thighs, his hands hanging down between his knees. They seemed to have a fresh slew of healing scars scattered over them. “You did the right thing telling Theo and Kilian, Carter.”
“Um … you can call me Isobel, uh, if you want, Professor.”
“You don’t tell me what to call you. I decide that.” He flinched back, like he was reacting to his own sharp tone, his palms running over his thighs. “Sorry.” He grimaced. “It’s been a night.”
“I heard.”
“About what?”
“About the girlfriend.”
“Hm.” The sound was a rumble in his chest. “I don’t have one of those.”
“Well, you forgot about her pretty quick.”
Easton chuckled. “Don’t be a brat, Isobel. You can tease the other Alphas all you like, but it won’t get you anywhere with me. Nowhere you want to be, anyway.”
She bit her tongue.
“I’ve gone easy on you because you hadn’t been accepted into Dorm A yet, but you’re as good as moved in now, which makes you my responsibility. I’m more than a dorm supervisor or a mentor to these boys. I’m here for everything they need but most of the time, I’m also the one who decides what they need. Are you ready for that?”
“I’m not very good at being told what I need.” She quickly dropped her eyes to her knees, confused about when she had turned to face him so readily, like an eager fan straining to hear his every word. She relaxed her posture, stretching her legs out in front of her to ease the ache in her muscles. It wasn’t from her run, but from the heaviness she had sipped out of each of them, and that hollow sting persisting beneath her skin.
Easton watched her. “I’ve noticed.”
“I already have someone dictating what I need.”
“That’s your first free pass,” he informed her calmly. “Compare me to Braun Carter again and I’ll show you how a real man disciplines.”
She frowned, wriggling her toes. “You’re very threatening for a professor.”
“You’re remarkably unafraid for a girl who was almost murdered a month ago.”