“My lady.” He’d said it loud enough that the crowd heard and roared with laughter.
I punched his jaw, getting a quick, cheap shot in while his hands were occupied. Some in the audience hooted in response, then I reached for the dagger he’d stolen.
Rykr swung me flat against the mat, knocking my breath away as he pinned me with the weight of his body. Grabbing my wrists, he held them above my head, his face inches above mine.
“I don’t know whether to kiss you or disarm you thoroughly in front of your friends and make a statement,” he gritted out, voice low and raw as his eyes burned into mine. “Then again … one is much more enjoyable.”
His mouth dropped close to mine. But instead of claiming my mouth, his breath warmed my cheek, his lips skimming my jaw, and he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss into the curve of my neck.
My body jolted in response, the yearning crashing through me with shocking force. The same longing that had gripped me in our tent flared back to life, stronger now. Relentless. His skin was damp with sweat, the raw, earthy scent of him invading my senses. Maybe it wasn’t a kiss in the way I’d imagined—but that only made it worse. Somehow, this was more intimate, and I felt completely exposed to him.
His tongue flicked against my throat, and my pulse pounding went wild.
The audience was laughing now, and my heart was rioting with both outrage and need.
Outrage won. I head-butted him, ripping away from the caress and attempting to roll out from under him as he careened back.
He slammed his hips and legs down over mine, immobilizing me further with his massive strength. The sudden weight sent a wicked jolt through me, my body betraying me as I fought against him and the unwanted heat curled between my legs.
“You’re not playing to your strengths.” His grip on my wrists stayed firm, while his free hand slid over my torso, down to my thigh.
I barely had time to realize his intent before he yanked my second dagger from its sheath.
“You never should have let me get this close to begin with.”
The blade pressed lightly against my throat, freezing me in place.
As if to drive his point home, he caught my earlobe between his lips, the same way I’d taunted him before. “Guess I’m catching up.”
My indignation boiled.
“Get off me, you fucking bastard.” The crowd around us was eating it up—leering, whispering. Enjoying the show a little too much.
He wasn’t just trying to beat me—he was humiliating me.
“Block them out. They’re not in the ring with you,” his voice hissed in my mind.
He released me and then offered a hand to help me stand.
I ignored it. “Stop doing that, Rykr, I mean it.” Then I wiped his kiss away from my neck with the palm of my hand. I could still feel him there, and my lips heated, desperate for more.
“Doing what? Talking to you or giving the audience a show? I thought you wanted a kiss.” He gave a wicked grin. “Though maybe I missed where you had in mind. Should I have aimed lower?”
Nyxva.
I glared, then skirted around him, making a break for the cache of weapons on the side of the ring. My hands closed around a spear, and I whirled back toward him, keeping him several feet away.
“Good choice.”
“Don’t you dare, you condescending prick.”
I had training. I’d won matches.
But never with someone who could rattle me this easily. Who got in my head, turned me inside out, and set fire to my thoughts.
I didn’t need to block the crowd.
I needed to block him.
