Liora followed, grumbling under her breath, but she was listening. Always listening. Watching, too.
Despite her constant refusals to accept help, she was learning how he moved—how he tested footholds with his boot before shifting weight, how he stayed just ahead but never out of reach.
There was just something about Lyander. The way he moved—effortless, controlled—muscles flexing beneath his skin with every step, could make any woman's thoughts stray. He was every bit the male alpha that the soul inside Liora had once dreamed of.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with a torso that tapered into a lean waist and long, powerful legs. Like the others, he went shirtless, and she couldn't help but steal glances at the way his abs tightened when he moved—especially when he wasn't looking.
