Marked Twice by the Alpha King Chapter 107

**Ava's POV**

"Dad! You gonna watch our special training?" Lucas hollered when he spotted Blake heading our way, bouncing on his toes like he'd chugged ten sodas.

I glanced up mid-stretch, catching sight of Blake with his easy, confident walk. My mark instantly blazed hot, like someone had pressed a warm coin against my skin. After all these weeks, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

Living a double life is a hell of a trip. Daytime Ava: Lucas's tough-as-nails combat teacher, Shadow Creek's golden warrior. Nighttime Ava: sneaking off to that hidden cabin with Blake, where I'm his mate, his Luna, his everything. Talk about whiplash.

The worst part? Having to act normal around him with other people watching. Not staring too long, not letting our hands brush when we pass the training daggers, fighting the urge to breathe him in when he walks by. Every bit of self-control during the day becomes jet fuel for when we're finally alone.

Lucas was the biggest surprise in all this mess. This kid who once drove off twelve tutors now practically glows whenever Blake shows up to watch him train. I'd catch him stealing these little glances at his dad, desperate for a nod or a word of praise. Gets me right in the soft spot every time.

"If the instructor approves," Blake said, voice all business while his eyes said something entirely different. Our mark connection hummed like a plucked guitar string.

I shrugged, fighting a smile. "I think we can bend the rules today."

"Yes!" Lucas punched the air. "Training with Dad! Can we show him that shadow-step thing? Please?"

The kid's excitement was contagious, making both Blake and me crack smiles. For a second, we felt like something real—like family. My stomach did a weird flip at the thought. Dangerous territory, Rivers. Get it together.

Watching Lucas dart between us like a hyperactive puppy, I felt this strange little pang. Here we were, putting on this whole charade for an innocent kid who had no idea his teacher was sleeping with his dad. The guilt and the thrill tangled together in my chest. Playing with fire while standing in gasoline.

"Change of plans today," I called out as Blake and Lucas took their spots. "Father-son combat drills—essential stuff in real fights." 

I caught Blake's eye, both of us knowing damn well this was the perfect cover to get close to each other without raising eyebrows.

"Alpha King, position yourself here," I said, all professional while boldly sliding my hands onto his shoulders to adjust his stance. My fingers lingered a heartbeat too long, soaking in the heat of him.

"More like this?" I murmured, barely audible.

"Better?" he asked just as quietly, eyes flicking to mine when Lucas was distracted. Those gray eyes could melt steel.

"Perfect," I said, meaning way more than his fighting stance.

"You smell like Dad," Lucas blurted, head cocked like a confused puppy. "Weird."

Shit. Blake and I locked eyes for a split second before both looking anywhere else. My mark burned so hot I swear it must've been glowing through my shirt.

"Training in the same space," I stammered, voice jumping an octave. "Scents rub off, you know?"

"Eyes on the target, Lucas," Blake cut in smoothly. "Real warriors don't get distracted by smells."

I shot him a thank-you glance before scrambling to reset my face. Note to self: shower twice after cabin nights.

While showing them a back-to-back defense move, I had to physically position both of them. When I reached Blake, he breathed against my ear: "Tonight. Cabin."

Two words. That's all it took to make my pulse spike like I'd sprinted uphill. I gave a quick nod before stepping back into trainer mode.

"Hold this position," I instructed, hoping nobody noticed the slight shake in my voice. "Trust is everything in combat."

Lucas showed off the "Mist Strike" move I'd taught him, circling Blake with quick, unpredictable movements. When he attacked from behind, Blake did something completely unexpected—he started tickling his son.

"No fair fight in real battle, pup," he laughed, fingers finding Lucas's ribs.

Lucas howled with laughter, twisting to escape. "Cheater! Ava, help!"

Before I knew it, I was dragged into their play-fight. The three of us rolled around on the grass, laughing like idiots. Just a normal, happy family having fun. The thought hit me like a sucker punch.

"Get him!" Lucas squealed, grabbing my hand as we ganged up on Blake. We tackled him together, and our laughter echoed across the field.

When we finally collapsed on our backs, panting and staring at the clouds, Lucas said something that stopped my heart: "You know what, Dad? Since Ava came, this place actually feels like home."

The kid might as well have dropped a bomb. Blake and I went still, the weight of those innocent words hanging in the air between us.

Blake's eyes found mine, and through our mark flowed a current of emotion too complex for words.

"That's a wrap for today," I said, clearing my throat. "Great job, Lucas."

"Did I do good, Dad?" Lucas asked, eyes hungry for approval.

"Better than good," Blake said, pride written all over his face. "Your tactics are coming along nicely."

Lucas lit up like a firecracker. "Can I show you my archery? Wilson says I don't suck anymore! At the targets by the forest!"

Blake glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes.

"Go for it," I said, helpless against those puppy-dog eyes. "I'll clean up."

"You rock!" Lucas threw his arms around Blake's waist. Blake froze for a split second—clearly not used to spontaneous hugs—before awkwardly patting his son's shoulder.

Watching them, something warm unfurled in my chest. Whatever mess Blake and I had created, seeing father and son finally connect made it worth something.

"We should discuss Lucas's progress later," Blake said, voice professional while his eyes promised something entirely different.

"I'll stop by your study," I replied, equally proper while my heart raced at what might happen once that study door closed.

He gave a barely-there nod before Lucas dragged him toward the archery range, chattering the whole way.

When they disappeared from view, I let myself grin like an idiot. As I gathered practice weapons and daydreamed about "discussing progress" in Blake's study, a voice sliced through my thoughts.

"Playing happy families now? How touching."

I whipped around to find Jackson standing there, his smile sharp enough to cut. My mark instantly burned with warning.

"I know what you're doing, Ava," he said, eyes glittering with something dangerous.

My stomach dropped, but I kept my poker face. "No idea what you're talking about."

"Bullshit," he snapped, grabbing my wrist hard enough to bruise. "We need to talk. Now. Privately."

He yanked me toward the trees, and I let him—I needed to know exactly what he knew. By the time Blake's concern pulsed through our mark, we were already too deep in the woods.