“I can press one-three-five. Five sets of ten.”

He set the weights. “Show me.”

She set, regulated her breathing, began. By the last set her muscles burned like acid, and the sweat ran like a river. But she did her fifty.

“Not bad. Towel off, hydrate. You’re up, Blondie.”

“You’re actually going to make me do that?”

“You’re stronger than you think.” But he adjusted the weights, dropped them down to ninety pounds. “Try that. Three reps to start. Rest, three more.”

Guzzling water, Riley watched Sasha struggle through—grit and guts, and yeah, more muscle than she’d had a couple months before.

“Three more.”

“You’re a bastard, Doyle.”

“You’ve got three more.”

She had three more, then let her arms fall. “Can it be over?”

“Good work. Stretch it out. Hit the showers.”

“Thank God.” Sasha crawled off the bench, sat on the floor.

Riley took her a bottle of water, sat beside her. “You couldn’t have done one rep of ninety the day you walked out on the terrace of the hotel in Corfu.”

“I never dreamed of doing one rep of ninety. Ever. I like yoga, maybe some Pilates.”

“Both excellent, in most circumstances. We’re going to need to get in some tumbling practice with Annika later.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me wallow in this pool of my own sweat for a minute.”

Riley poked a finger at Sasha’s biceps. “You got guns.”

Lips pursed, Sasha flexed. “I kind of do.”

“Not kind of do. Girl, you are cut.”

Sasha tipped her head to Riley’s shoulder. “Thanks. I’d trade all of it for a two-hour nap followed by a gallon of coffee. But thanks.”

“Come up.” Rising, Riley held out a hand. “We’ll hit those showers, get that coffee. I could chew the beans by this time.”

• • •

By the time she’d showered off the night, the workout, dug out a sweatshirt, cargoes, pulled on her beloved Chucks, the smoothie was a distant memory. She needed food, and plenty of it. Coffee—enough to swim in.

She smelled the coffee as she jogged down the back stairs, followed that siren’s song. Sawyer stirred something in an enormous bowl while Annika stirred something else in a smaller one.

Riley scowled at Sawyer. “I figured you’d have it fried up by now.”

“Needed to shower.”

“Sex in the shower is so nice,” Annika said with an easy smile. “But it takes a little time.”

“Great. A woman could starve to death while you’re doing the slippery slide.”

She dumped coffee in a mug.

“Pancakes, bacon, sausage, yogurt-and-berry parfait.” Sawyer turned to the stove. “Set the table and you’ll eat faster.”

Riley grabbed plates, knowing if Annika could manage it, she’d add plenty of flourishes to the traditional setting. For herself, she was a lot more interested in bacon.

The minute Sawyer transferred some from pan to platter, she grabbed a slice, tossed it from hand to hand to cool it. The first bite burned her tongue, but it was worth it.

And when he flipped a pancake off the griddle, she rolled it like a burrito, chomped in. By the time the others wandered in, her pre-breakfast had cut her hunger down to tolerable.

Bran studied the table and the three bud vases Annika had added to it. She’d put a rose in each one—white, red, yellow, draped the vases in white napkins, tied at the “waist” with ribbon, added a wooden skewer for a sword.

“The three goddesses.”

“I thought they should join us.”

Bran gave Annika a grin. “The food looks fit for gods.”

As she considered it more than fit for her, Riley sat, loaded her plate. “I’m going to dig back into the tower library. Anything specific in there on the stars, or the island?”

“The fact is I haven’t read a fraction of what’s in there, but I do know of a few. Various languages,” Bran added. “I’ll show you after breakfast.”

“Weapons training at noon.” Sawyer sampled his pancakes, approved.

“I’ll be ready for the break. I’m on lunch today. It’s going to be sandwiches.”

“Hand-to-hand follows that.” Doyle studied the pretty parfait suspiciously.

“It’s good,” Annika told him, scooping out a spoonful. “Sawyer says healthy, too. I made it.”

His soft spot for her left him no choice but to try it. “It’s good,” he told her, though personally he could live his immortal life without ever consuming yogurt.

“I’ll be working on defense and offense—magickally—in the tower, so I’m close if needed.”

“I’m on maps,” Sawyer said, “so me and my handy compass can get us wherever we need to go.”

“Annika and I can help Bran, or Riley, or Sawyer—depending on what’s needed.” Sasha glanced over at her chart. “Annika’s in charge of laundry.”

“I like laundry. It’s fun to fold, and it smells good.”

“It’s all yours,” Sasha told her. “Since the place is so big, I assigned everyone to different sections for basic cleaning.” She lifted her eyebrows at Doyle. “Team morale stays higher if we live and work in a clean house.”