Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(34)

He was so lost in the infinite subtle shades of brown and green patterning her irises, it took him a second to realize she’d spoken at all. A question. She’d asked him a question.

“Yes,” he said dazedly. “Always.”

Her gaze flickered sideways, breaking the spell. “Um, okay. What did you want to do?”

You, he very nearly said. He clutched his towel more tightly.

“Uh, bench press?” he said at random.

He realized his mistake when he was flat on his back, staring up at the underside of Edith’s small breasts leaning over his face. He shut his eyes and desperately imagined the unsexiest things he could. Dung beetles. Foot fungus. Naked mole rats.

Naked mate, his griffin helpfully suggested.

“Too much weight?” she said, clearly mistaking his pained expression.

“No,” he grunted, enormously grateful that he’d had the foresight to drape his towel across his lap. “Load me up with more.”

Normally he was cautious not to lift anywhere near his actual limit during the morning session, when the other squads were sharing the gym. Apart from Buck, none of them knew about shifters. It was best to avoid attracting attention.

But he needed the burn in his shoulders and chest to drive out the ache in areas further south. And, if he was totally honest with himself, he couldn’t resist showing off a little.

He heard Edith’s soft intake of breath as he smoothly raised the weights. His griffin preened smugly. He was achingly aware of the warmth of Edith’s hands on the bar next to his, not quite touching his own.

He was seriously tempted to power through his reps with his eyes closed, but that would just have made Edith think he was even more of a weirdo than she already did. On the next lift, he opened them, and found himself locking gazes with her. She jerked back a fraction, biting her lower lip, but didn’t drop her eyes.

The bar suddenly felt as light as a feather in his hands. She was looking at him, properly looking at him! No more of those fleeting, sideways glances, as though he was some terrifying beast.

See? he said silently to his griffin. Patience is paying off. She’s already more relaxed around us.

To his surprise, his griffin didn’t share his elation. Its feathers flattened in distress, tail flicking from side to side.

No, it whispered. Look closer.

Puzzled, Rory studied Edith as best he could while he ran through his bench press routine. His griffin’s unease spread through his stomach like ice. Even though he was staring right at her, he had the weirdest feeling that he wasn’t seeing her.

It was like there was an invisible force-field behind those hazel eyes, walling off her soul. For all that they were physically close, she seemed farther away than ever.

The longer he looked at her, the more he became convinced that she wasn’t seeing him either. Before, she’d always been in constant motion, beautifully attuned to the world around her. Now, her shoulders were as rigid as her smile. It was like she was braced against some storm he couldn’t see.

“Hey.” He pitched his voice low, so that none of the other crew members working out nearby could overhear. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Despite her words, her hands spasmed on the bar, pulling him off his rhythm. “Why?”

“You don’t seem yourself, somehow.”

Her glassy smile cracked. For the barest instant, real panic showed in her face. Her gaze cut away from him at last, fixing instead on the weight rack.

“It’s just, just loud in here.” She jerked her head to indicate the packed room. “And busy. But I’ll get used to it.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” he said, wondering if that really was all that was bothering her. “Did you notice Wystan isn’t here? He can’t stand the gym—crowds give him a headache. He goes for a long run every morning instead. Don’t feel forced to do something just because the rest of us are doing it. Pick something that works for you.”

A hint of her usual animation crept back. “Really?”

“Sure. The chief isn’t a dictator.” Rory paused to catch his breath, his muscles burning. “He doesn’t care how we get into top condition, just as long as we do.”

She caught her lip in her teeth again, as though debating something with herself. Then she said, all in a rush, “Rory, I’m sorry that the chief is so mad. I promise I’ll work hard. I won’t let you down.”

Was that why she was so subdued this morning? He’d assumed Buck had just given her the usual welcome-to-the-crew pep talk.

Of course, Buck’s idea of motivational speaking generally involved a lot of colorful language. Not to mention the occasional anatomically unlikely threat.

Anger flooded through him. Edith was so delicate, so sensitive. Couldn’t the chief tell that she needed special consideration? How dare Buck treat her like anyone else?

He yanked the dumbbell down so fast, Edith lost her balance. She toppled over, catching herself with her hands against his chest.

“What did Buck say?” he demanded.

They were almost nose-to-nose. She pulled back a little, her eyes widening. Her obvious alarm washed over him like a bucket of cold water. What feral fury was she reading in his face, to make her recoil from him like that?

“I-I thought you knew,” she stuttered.