Chapter 23

Elena

I sat on the edge of my bed, finally alone after enduring hours of Tiffany following me around. The woman had trailed me everywhere—all around the banquet, even standing outside while I went to the bathroom.

It was humiliating and exhausting, but at least she couldn’t follow me into my bedroom at night, so that was a relief.

As I sat there, I caught a glimpse of myself looking small and miserable in the full-length mirror. I looked down at my arms, turning them over to examine them properly for the first time in years.

They were thin, too thin, with barely any muscle definition.

How had I let myself become so weak?

The answer came immediately: I’d done it for Killian. All for him.

Before my marriage, I’d never been this frail, even though my adoptive parents wouldn’t let me properly train. Growing up as the unwanted orphan in my adoptive family’s home, I’d been their personal servant.

While Natalie lounged around reading books or painting, I scrubbed floors on my hands and knees. I hauled heavy baskets of laundry up and down the stairs. I even chopped the wood for the fireplace in the winter and tended the garden in the summer.

The work had been backbreaking and thankless, but it had kept me strong. My arms had been lean but muscular, and my legs grew sturdy from all the running around. I’d never been trained to fight like a proper warrior’s daughter should have been, but at least I’d had physical strength.

Then I married Killian, and everything changed.

Suddenly, I had servants to do the cleaning. Maids to dress me. Gardeners to tend the grounds. And instead of being grateful for the reprieve, I’d panicked. If I wasn’t useful, if I wasn’t needed, then what value did I have as his wife?

So I’d found other ways to try to earn his love. I’d started skipping meals, convinced that if I could just be as slender and delicate as Natalie had been, maybe he’d finally look at me the way he’d looked at her. I’d stopped doing anything physical, afraid that muscle would make me look masculine and unappealing or that working out my chest would just make my bust too big to fit into her clothes.

I’d literally starved myself weak trying to disappear into the shadow of a dead woman.

The thought filled me with such rage that I shot straight to my feet. What a fucking waste. Years of my life spent diminishing myself for a man who would never love me no matter how small I made myself.

Well, no more.

I stripped off my dress and changed into a tank top and shorts, then pushed the coffee table aside to clear space in the middle of the room. If I was going to survive on my own after leaving this place, I needed to be strong. Not for Killian, not for any man, but for myself.

I started with basic exercises—jumping jacks to get my heart rate up, then push-ups. Or rather, attempted push-ups. My arms shook violently as I lowered myself down, even on my knees and I barely managed three before collapsing onto the carpet.

“Pathetic,” I muttered, pushing myself back up to try again.

This time I managed five knee push-ups before my arms gave out. Then seven. By the time I moved on to squats, sweat was dripping down my back and my tank top was soaked through. My legs burned and my arms felt like jelly, but I kept going.

I was in the middle of mountain climbers, panting hard as I drove my knees toward my chest, when the door suddenly opened.

“Elena, I heard—”

I looked up to see Killian frozen in the doorway, his black eyes fixed on me. Or rather, on my body. My tank top had ridden up during the exercise, exposing my stomach, and the thin fabric was practically transparent from how much I was sweating.

He immediately spun around to face the hallway. “What are you doing?”

I slowly stood, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “Exercising. What does it look like?”

“Why?” The word came out strangled, and I noticed his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

“Because I want to get stronger.” I walked closer, noting how his shoulders went tense as I approached. “Why aren’t you looking at me, Killian? Am I that hideous when I sweat?”

“Just… put on some proper clothes.”

That was when I noticed the way he shifted his weight, angling his hips away from me. The careful way he kept his back turned, one hand moving to adjust his pants.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat. He had an erection. The mighty Alpha who couldn’t even be bothered to come home for dinner most nights was getting hard just from seeing me sweaty in workout clothes.

Once, that knowledge would have thrilled me. I would have seen it as proof that he desired me, that maybe I could seduce him into loving me. Now it just seemed pathetic. His body wanted his mate even if his heart never would. Typical male.

“Having some trouble there?” I asked sweetly, moving even closer. I could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. “It must be so inconvenient when your body betrays what you really feel.”

He whirled around then, eyes flashing dangerously. “Don’t flatter yourself. And if you think getting in shape will catch Jaxon’s attention, you’re wasting your time. He’s only ever been interested in one type of woman.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Supermodels,” he spat. “Tall, impossibly thin, legs for days. Not…” He gestured vaguely at me.

“Not short, albino freaks?” I finished for him. “How devastating. Although if I’m so undesirable, why do you and Jaxon seem to be fighting over me?”

His jaw clenched. “I’m not fighting over you. You’re my mate. That’s different.”

“Right. Just your mate. Not someone you actually want.” I turned away, returning to my exercise space. “And for your information, I’m not exercising for Jaxon or you or any other man. Believe it or not, sometimes women do things just for themselves.”

The shock on his face was almost comical. Of course he was surprised. The old Elena had done everything for his validation—dressed how he wanted, ate what he preferred, molded herself into whatever shape she thought would please him.

“I don’t believe you,” he finally said.

I shrugged and dropped down into a plank position. “I don’t care what you believe.”

“Elena—”

“Why did you come in here anyway?” I asked, holding the plank even though my entire body was screaming. “Don’t tell me you were actually concerned about me.”

“I heard you panting in here. I thought you were hurt.”

I snorted. “Drop the act, Killian. We both know you don’t give a damn about my wellbeing. You made that pretty clear when you assigned me a babysitter.”

“That’s not—”

“Just leave.” I didn’t look at him, focusing on the burn in my core instead. “Unless you want to watch me exercise in my tiny, sweaty clothes some more. I’m sure your body would enjoy it, even if your mind doesn’t.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then I heard his footsteps retreating and the door closing with a satisfying click.

I held the plank for another ten seconds before collapsing onto the floor, every muscle in my body trembling. But despite the exhaustion, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years.

Strong.

After cooling down with some basic stretches, I peeled off my sweat-soaked clothes and headed to the bathroom. A hot shower washed away the sweat and soothed my aching muscles. By the time I dried off and changed into my nightgown, I was exhausted but satisfied.

I brushed my teeth and braided my damp hair, then climbed into bed. Tomorrow I would be sore, but it would be worth it. Every ache would be a reminder that I was taking control of my life, one push-up at a time.

And for once, my efforts had nothing to do with Killian.

At least, that was what I told myself, even as thoughts of my mate’s body reacting to mine stirred something deep and primal within me—my wolf.