Isis: The E6 Breeder (Lycan Breeder Series Book No. 2)

Scene 50

Sometimes the motivation to work out comes from loving your body, sometimes it comes from hating your body. Kylian's motivation for his gym time was from loving his mate and hating the world.

The strain across his chest as he threw up a few hundred pounds of lead spread across a bowed barbell did not distract him from the throbbing of his heart. He can go heavier on the next set. Maybe another hundred pounds will do the trick.

The doors from the hallway flung open and two broad-shouldered E6 warriors walked in. He didn't have to look away from his task to know it was Adrian and Liam. The smug assholes will probably want to talk or something. Will have to up the reps in this set to keep them from approaching.

The hissing of air pushing through his gritted teeth helped keep him from falling into their conversation. Just keep on pumping until they get busy on the treadmill. Then you can make your move to leave.

A whirl of a plastic mat sliding over a platform at fifteen miles per hour and the thumping of two-hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle let him know that he could end his set and avoid conversation. The weights clanked as he aligned the bar and set it down on the bench press. Dark eyes, the creepiest shade of black that eyes should never be, peered down at him. Fucking Liam. He should have listened for the second set of footsteps pounding down on the machines before pausing.

"Need a spotter?"

Darting his head to the side to avoid a collision, Kylian sat up to break eye contact. "I'm just finishing up here," he spoke to the far wall.

"Funny. At four-fifty, I figured you were still warming up."

With that, he stood and squared up to his unofficial leader, taking a couple steps closer entering his personal space. The wide necked tank draped low and exposed a set of healed puncture wounds, mocking him without so much as flinching. Derek had been marked almost as soon as Isis saw him in the hospital. Adrian, her original mate who was currently side-eyeing him while warming up with his four-minute miles, had his mate marks on full display as well: Bobbing along the beat of his strides.

Everyone was marked, but him. Everyone.

"I'm done," Kylian's icy tone should have been surprising, but Liam didn't react. Maybe he would have previously, but it has been weeks since the usually jovial and friendly fighter has been pleasant to be around. It's been months of slipping down into the darkness of rejection.

"You're on Isis duty tonight..."

"Yes, I know it," Kylian snapped. Liam paused and the rhythm and whine of the treadmill filled the air. After a couple beats, he squinted his dark eyes so slightly that someone who was less familiar with him wouldn't have noticed. "And you can stop with your analyzing bullshit."

"Alright." Liam cocked his head to the side. "Are you able to, or do you need one of us to step in?"

One of them, one of the marked.

"I've got it."

Kylian turned and walked towards the exit. After a couple beeps, the treadmill had picked up its pace and the thumping of the runner intensified.

"Her water retention has been a bit much lately. If you're good at foot rubs, she'll probably melt right into you," Liam yelled out before the door closed leaving him on the inside and Kylian in the hall.

Like that'll do any good.

The real possibility of her never marking him was being realized. What would that even look like? Feel like? She would choose to have a deeper bond with the others than with him. She even reciprocated with Marc. Marc. Who pretty much hates anything with a womb.