Morning in the Resort
Elizabeth
The morning light filtered through the wide glass windows of their resort suite, casting golden patterns across the room. The bed beneath Elizabeth was impossibly soft, the scent of the ocean carried in on the gentle breeze. But her mind wasn’t on the idyllic surroundings—it was on Ivan.
She glanced at him, his massive form sprawled on the bed beside her. His breathing was steady, his presence comforting. She reached out and brushed her fingers lightly against his arm, marveling at the strength beneath the skin.
"Ivan," she said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
He grunted in response, his usual method of acknowledging her when he didn’t yet have words. He wasn’t much of a talker, but Elizabeth loved that about him. His quiet nature wasn’t out of disinterest—she could feel how much he cared in the way he listened, how his rare words carried weight.
"I have to tell you something," she continued, her voice hesitant but warm.
His eyes opened slightly, his attention now fully on her. "Hmm?"
She took a breath, a smile teasing at her lips. "I’m as strong as you."
Ivan
Ivan blinked, her words cutting through the haze of his half-awake state. He turned his head, looking at her with a raised brow. "No way," he said, his deep voice rumbling with disbelief. "That’s impossible."
He knew Elizabeth was extraordinary—her intelligence, her wit, and the way she could command a room with her charm. But strength? Comparable to a Spartan II? That wasn’t just rare—it was unheard of.
Elizabeth chuckled, and before he could say more, she reached for the metal cup on the nightstand. With casual ease, she crushed it between her fingers, the once-sturdy object folding like paper.
Elizabeth
The look on Ivan’s face was priceless. His usual calm exterior broke for a moment as he stared at the mangled cup in her hand. She couldn’t help but laugh.
"Believe me now?" she teased, tossing the crumpled remains onto the nightstand.
Ivan
He didn’t respond immediately, his mind racing to process what he’d just seen. Spartans weren’t just strong—they were engineered to be peak human warriors, their strength leagues beyond anything natural. And yet here was Elizabeth, casually demonstrating a feat that required that same level of power.
"You're clearly not a Spartan II," he said slowly, his analytical mind kicking in. "So that means… Spotty herself enhanced you, right?"
His tone wasn’t accusatory—more awed. The thought of Spotty granting Elizabeth such power made sense. Who else had the capability to elevate someone to this level?
Elizabeth
Elizabeth smiled at him, her expression soft. She admired the way his mind worked, how quickly he pieced things together. "Yeah," she said simply.
She could see the questions forming in his eyes, but he didn’t press her. That was one of the things she appreciated most about him—his respect for her boundaries, his patience.