Lucien's eyes fluttered open as sunlight stabbed painfully into them. He groaned, a familiar sense of déjà vu settling over him, though this time there was no arm shielding his face from the glare.
That alone made him feel strangely relieved. At least it meant Crimson Diablo was not hovering over him.
That relief lasted only a second.
Once his vision cleared, he realized the Devil was still very much in the room. Mikhail was doing push-ups with one arm, his body steady and controlled as if gravity itself respected him.
Lucien watched despite himself, eyes tracing the way the alpha's back muscles tightened and contracted with every movement.
Sweat dripped down onto the floor, and his long red hair was tied into a loose bun that exposed the powerful line of his neck.
Mikhail let out a rough breath, his groan low and strained. The scent of vodka and burning wood filled the room, thick and intoxicating enough to make Lucien swallow hard.
