Page 235 of The Seven Rings
“You’re over there bench-pressing five hundred pounds, and I’m over here curling fifteen. It’s demoralizing.”
He finished his last rep, racked the weights. “One-fifty, and I’m bigger than you, cutie.”
When he went with thirty for curls, she repeated, “Demoralizing. But you make up for it looking all sexy when you flex and sweat.”
“Back at you there.”
“I’m about finished sweating sexy for the day. It’s cooldown stretch time for me.”
He had to admit, he did enjoy watching her bend and stretch.
He finished his reps, was about to stretch it out himself.
The Gold Room bell clanged.
“Looks like somebody woke up. Been a while.”
“It’s colder in here.”
“Yeah, I feel it.” Calm as a lake, he did a biceps stretch. “If you’re done, go on up. I just need a few more minutes.”
“You stay, I stay.”
As he continued to stretch, more bells rang.
“Sounds like she’s hitting them all.” Trying to mirror his calm,Sonya bent her leg, held her foot to her butt for a quad stretch. “She hasn’t done that one before.”
The music changed from upbeat to a hard, harsh drumming. And the volume soared.
“Just being a nuisance.” Trey shrugged his shoulders, then stretched his triceps.
Baiting her, Sonya realized. She steadied herself, braced herself. She could do the same.
“It’s getting easier to ignore her tantrums. I used to babysit for this two-year-old boy who threw more impressive ones.”
A dumbbell tumbled off the rack, rolled toward her. Sonya sidestepped it as another hit the floor. The exercise bands sprang off their hooks, flew through the air. When Trey caught one on the fly, it hissed. When it snapped toward his face, he used his other hand to force it back, then both to twist it, tie it at the handles.
Sonya grabbed for another and barely avoided a twenty-pound weight that sped toward her, end over end.
“We get a little more of a workout.” Trey snagged the band himself, looped it around the other, tied it off.
To Sonya’s fascinated horror, the bands wiggled, seemed to snap at each other. Trey hooked his hands under her elbows, lifted her up when another weight rolled.
The wall screen came on in a curtain of blood, with piercing screams behind it.
He felt her shiver, not from fear—or not much of it, he decided. But from the bitter cold.
The lights flashed on and off, on and off. The doorbell bonged, echoed, and bonged again. Doors slammed like gunshots, and the sound of the dogs barking answered.
“Trey, Cleo’s upstairs. She’s alone.”
“We’ll go.”
The door resisted him, then swung open so fast he narrowly avoided a hard hit to the face. Then nearly lost his grip as it tried to slam again.
“Go.”
He had to bear down with all he had to keep it open for her. Sonya put her weight against it to help as he slid through the opening.
