Free Dark of the Moon by Rachel Hawthorne

wasn’t the only one feeling restless. Several guys were lifting weights, including Connor. I received a few nods of acknowledgment, but for the most part my arrival was ignored. I was one of the few girls who’d ever stepped foot in this underground dungeon. Maybe the reason none of the guys had declared me as his mate was because they felt as though I offered competition that none of the other girls did.
    I grabbed a towel from the stack by the door and tried to calm my quivering nerves. I’d never been in the gym while Connor was there.
    I’d planned to work out with free weights, but the only available bench was beside him, and I just couldn’t bring myself to go over there. I headed for the treadmill on the wall perpendicular to the row benches. Connor was no longer in my line of sight. Since I’d just returned from a jog that had left me sweaty, I went straight back into running mode. I turned up the volume on my iPod and got into a rhythm where all my troubles melted away.
    A couple of guys stopped to look at me, then returned to what they were doing. As far as I knew, no one gave a flip about an aerobic workout once they were touched by a full moon. After they had the ability to shift, runningon all fours was a completely different game. On the brick wall opposite me, someone had slapped a bumper sticker that read, “Real Shifters do it on all fours.”
    The treadmill was definitely a stupid choice, Brit.
    If anyone made a snide comment, I’d claim habit as my excuse. Then I got mad at myself for feeling like I had to justify my actions. I hadn’t before. I wasn’t going to now. I enjoyed running. So what if I preferred it in biped mode?
    I kicked up the tempo and could hear my feet pounding the rubber over Carrie Underwood’s voice blasting through my earbuds. She was singing about a guy who wouldn’t call, which made me look over at Connor. In one hand, he held a large dumbbell. He curled it up and down with movements so smooth that I almost didn’t believe the 40 LBS . stamped on its side. He was wearing shorts and a black T-shirt with the sleeves torn away, leaving ragged edges that made me think he’d used his teeth. It was stupid to find a ratty old T-shirt sexy but I did. He was ripped, of course, like most of the guys were.
    I knew he’d been working out for a while because a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. He still hadn’t bothered to shave and his hair looked even more unkempt. He looked rugged and dangerous, a guy accustomed to always winning. Little wonder he wasn’t in the happiest of moods since the full moon.
    Some of the guys were talking to one another, the occasional bark of laughter echoing through the room. But no one talked to him, no one bothered him.
    He swung his head in my direction, and I averted my gaze so fast that my eyes nearly bounced around in their sockets. I immediately regretted my reaction. What did I care if he caught me staring at him?
    I thought about last night when his gaze had dropped to my lips. I thought about breakfast when I’d caught him studying me, and I remembered the tension between us during the meeting. That electricity had always been one-sided, but now it felt as though it might be flowing both ways.
    And just as I had that thought, the fine hairs on my arms raised just a little. I slid my eyes over to Connor. He was looking in the mirror in front of him, but it was obvious that he was looking at me and not himself. He didn’t flinch or avert his gaze; his concentration was centered on me. He was still working the weight and his jaw was clenched as though he was straining against something. And I didn’t think it was the weight of the dumbbell. It looked like child’s play for him.
    I wanted to think of something clever to say, something that would indicate that I could take him or leave him—or would indicate my interest if he was interested. I’d never played any of these flirting games. I needed todo a little research, check out some