Rosie was freezing.

  The icy wind sliced against her face, biting at her skin like tiny shards of glass. Every breath felt sharp, the mist escaping her lips curling in the frigid air, as if the very atmosphere was cutting through her. The chill seeped deep into her bones, the kind that made her muscles seize with every contraction, and her hair—hastily tucked into a ponytail—offered no protection for her poor ears, which felt as if they might freeze off with every gust.

  She balled her fists tightly, trying to hide her numb fingers, though it barely helped. Nothing seemed to ease the freezing grip of the cold.

  Whose brilliant idea had it been to go for a run this early in the morning, while the world was still blanketed in fog? Oh right—that prick of an Alpha.

  And she hadn't even had proper clothes for this torture. In addition to being dragged out into the cold, the only things she'd found next to her untouched supper upon waking were a pair of skimpy shorts and an even more suggestive sports bra. Shorts! In this weather.

  But what other choice did she have? It was that or her floral dress, and Rosie was not one to ruin pretty things.

  Her new state of undress also had the very annoying result of exposing the marks – claws and teeth - her mate so graciously left her. Rosie found her sole consolation in remembering the young Alpha had already seen it all.

  When she'd stepped outside to meet her trainer, escorted by her two personal guards, she swore she'd tasted a sharp sting of raw appreciation in his gaze before his eyes had rolled skyward, muttering something about how much he was going to kill her.

  Rosie was pretty sure she wasn't the "her" in question, but she'd hurried after him without a word. Better safe than sorry.

  And yet, she ended up sorry anyway.

  Every step felt like an eternity, her muscles protesting with each stride. Shivers crept up her back, her stomach stretching a little more with each stride. She prayed it would end soon—boredom and fatigue gnawing at her with equal intensity. Weeks of running had worn her down, and she was sick of it.

  But someone insisted the damned exercise was good for her.

  Rosie shot a black glare at her companion, effortlessly jogging beside her. Unlike her, he didn't seem on the verge of hypothermia.

  While she was chilled to the bone, quivering with every gust of wind, he appeared maddeningly comfortable. He wasn't even running at full speed, merely matching her slower pace—thanks to her injured stomach—which right now felt like an affront.

  It was infuriating.

  She narrowed her eyes. Even running, he carried that casually self-assured composure, his back straight, his head high, scanning the horizon. He moved through the cold air as though the wind parted before him, caressing his skin rather than whipping it. He wasn't panting like her; each inhale was annoyingly even, unfaltering with every sharp turn or bold leap.

  Did he have to be this flawless?

  Her eyes traveled to his neck, a bead of sweat dripping down his throat, disappearing under his shirt where his chest was rising with every breath. Her gaze traveled lower, lingering on his arms, muscles flexing with each stride—

  Her feet betrayed her, tangling numbly beneath her.

  A sharp cry escaped her as she pitched forward, pain jolting through her ribs—then warmth steadied her.

  The ground never came.

  His hand. On her waist.

  His touch was unexpectedly solid, grounding her as the world around her seemed to spin. In that instant, the cold and exhaustion faded, and all she could focus on was the feel of his hand on her, his warmth a stark contrast to the icy wind battering them both.

  "Whoa," Luca's voice cut through the air between breaths, his other hand quickly securing her back to keep her upright. "Are you alright?"

  "Yeah, sorry," she muttered quickly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "It's just my stomach."

  He narrowed his eyes.

  "Don't push yourself."

  Rosie nodded, convincing herself her stumble was nothing more than a random mishap. She hated this. She hated running. Most of all, she hated that Luca was still here, poised and unshaken, as though the cold and exhaustion were beneath him.

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  "You can let go now," Rosie muttered, noticing his hand still tight on her waist.

  Luca's hand fell away instantly.

  "Sorry." His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he spoke again. "Come on," he said. "That's enough running for today."

  "You're kidding."

  Rosie stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the scene in front of her. The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  Luca's lips quirked in a small, knowing smile. "Very serious."

  Rosie was beginning to suspect that the young Alpha wanted her to freeze to death. That would be a convenient solution to the little rogue problem she was.

  "Swimming is an excellent way to work all your body's muscles without putting any impact on your joints," Luca told her. "It'll help your recovery."

  Rosie crossed her arms, already shielding her flesh from the cutting water. Before them was a lake, a very freezing lake. The water was still, save for the occasional ripple caused by a breeze or a bird soaring overhead. On the far side, jagged rocks lined the shore, forming a natural barrier that seemed to guard the lake's peace.

  Her gaze fell to her state of undress. The thought of the walk back, drenched and with the fabric clinging to her body, made her uneasy. At least there wasn't a lot of it, she thought bitterly, noticing the goosebumps carving the skin of her exposed breasts.

  Somehow, the white marks where her mate had sunk his teeth managed to escape the chill.

  Luca's gaze followed hers, briefly landing on her chest before he looked back up quickly. "Don't worry," he said, clearing his throat. "I always leave towels and a change of clothes here."

  Of course. Because how could he not have everything sorted, she grumbled to herself, catching the subtle grin stretching the annoying Alpha's lips before he strode toward the shore.

  He glanced over his shoulder, gesturing for her to follow. "Come on. I'll go with you."

  But her feet didn't budge, eyes still fixed on the tranquil water with wariness.

  "Rosie." Her eyes snapped to him. He'd never said her name before. She would never admit it, but she didn't hate the way it danced on his tongue. "I promise you'll survive."

  Her gaze flickered to the water, then back to him. Here I go, she thought, dread curling in her stomach as her feet carried her slowly toward the lake.

  Luca kicked off his shoes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll take that as a yes."

  She muttered something incoherent, trying to distract herself from the cold prickling her skin. But all thoughts of dread fled as Luca began stripping down.

  Her breath caught.

  He pulled off his shirt so easily, like he had not expected the sight might affect her at all.

  It did.

  Broad shoulders and a chest honed from countless hours of training, ridges of muscle shifting effortlessly with every movement—Gods, Rosie definitely couldn't ignore that. The faint scars scattered across his torso stirred an unexpected heat to her stomach, and she immediately averted her gaze.

  Stop staring, she scolded herself. But her eyes betrayed her, darting back against her will, tracing the lines of his taut abdomen. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, catching the morning light.

  Goddess, why was she reacting like this? It wasn't as if she'd never seen a chest before.

  Sure, he was all muscles—more than most, maybe—but plenty of rogues were the same, and they never missed an opportunity to flaunt it. This wasn't different—at least it wasn't supposed to be.

  Stop it. He had a mate, for Goddess's sake.

  Snapping herself out of it, she forced her gaze back to his face, praying he hadn't noticed.

  No such luck.

  He was staring right at her, searing her skin. Rosie didn't need to enter the lake to feel as though she'd just received a cold shower.

  She could not for the life of her make out what was going on behind those grey eyes of his. Still, her pulse quickened, and her skin flushed under his scrutiny. He'd caught her—there was no doubt about it.

  His jaw tightened briefly before he cleared his throat, tension radiating from his shoulders.

  "You coming?" His voice was a touch rougher than usual, mercifully not commenting on her lapse.

  She hesitated, her gaze darting to the water's surface. It glinted under the grey sky, the deceptive serenity masking the icy bite she knew awaited her. She inhaled deeply, trying to summon courage. Her pride was the only thing keeping her from bolting back to the warmth of the packhouse.

  Luca arched a brow, a teasing glint in his cinder eyes. "You're not afraid of a little water, are you?"

  Her jaw tightened, and she straightened her shoulders. She slowly took off her shoes, buying herself time before stepping closer to the edge.

  The grin on his face widened. "That's the spirit." He bent down to roll up the legs of his joggers, his movements fluid and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. The faint smirk on his lips told her he was enjoying this far too much.

  He held out a hand, his expression softening. "Come on. I'll help you."

  She stared at his outstretched hand, debating whether her pride could handle accepting his assistance. Her fingers twitched at her sides, the cold seeping into her bones making the choice for her. With a sharp exhale, she placed her hand in his.

  The warmth of his touch sent an unexpected jolt through her, and for a brief moment, she forgot all about the cold. His grip was firm as she took a cautious step into the water—

  A strangled yelp escaped her lips, her body recoiling instantly.

  Luca's laughter rumbled low and deep, wrapping around her like a taunt. "It's not that bad once you're in."

  Rosie shot him a glare that could've frozen the lake itself. Easy for him to say—the man was practically boiling, she thought, eying his hand still strongly holding hers.

  Rosie bit back a string of curses as she let the chill enveloped her legs. "You didn't say it was going to be this cold."

  "You didn't ask," he replied, his tone maddeningly casual.

  She glared at him, but his smirk didn't falter.

  They waded further into the lake, the water now lapping at Rosie's waist, then at her chest. She tried to focus on anything other than the numbness creeping up her body, and the way Luca's hand never left hers made it too easy.

  "Alright, that's far enough," he said, stopping abruptly as only the tip of Rosie's toes could still touch the ground.

  Rosie exhaled in relief, her breath clouding in the crisp morning air.

  "Now," Luca said, releasing her hand and stepping back, "let's swim. Unless you'd rather stand here and freeze."

  Rosie scowled but took a shaky breath, steeling herself. With a sharp kick, she pushed off.

  The cold water swallowed her whole.

  And she sank.