The doorbell pulled Alex from sleep.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, his mind sluggish. Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and pale. The sheets were tangled around his waist, and the remnants of a dreamless sleep clung to him like fog.
The bell rang again.
He exhaled slowly and pushed himself upright.
His body ached pleasantly from yesterday's training. Every muscle had been pushed, tested, broken down and rebuilt.
Pavel hadn't held back... striking with precision, exposing every gap in Alex's defenses, teaching through pain what words couldn't convey. The bruises had already faded... his enhanced regeneration saw to that... but the memory of each hit remained, carved into his instincts.
He grabbed the first thing within reach. A thin cotton shirt, half-unbuttoned, that hung loose on his shoulders and did nothing to hide the sculpted terrain beneath. Sweatpants, low on his hips.
