The cool grasstickles my ankles as I circle around him in the moonlit clearing. His blade catches the pale light, the silver glinting menacingly as Kylian twists it between his fingers. That wicked smile plays on his lips—the one that tells me he's enjoying this far too much.
We’ve been at this for hours. The sun has long since fallen, and my other mates have made a point to check in on me, only to be turned away by Kylian, who claimed we’re “beating the shit out of each other but not actually hurting each other because we’re not psychos. Geez.”
I’ve ditched my bodysuit, shoes, and most of my clothes, choosing to train in a sports bra and shorts. Kylian had complained at first, claiming that if I were to be engaged in a fight, I would do so as “Teddie.”
He quickly changed his mind when he saw my tits in the hot-pink bra.
“Make sure none of the soldiers come in this direction,” Kylian had told Luka. “I’ll cut out anyone’s eyes who see her like this.”
“Because I’m out of my disguise?” I’d said dryly.
He had grinned, savage and wicked. “Because I can see your pussy through those little shorts and your nipples through that teeny-tiny bra.”
Now sweat coats my skin, and my menial clothes cling to me in ways that will require a meat cleaver to remove. The only bright side is that Kylian is also just as sweaty, his dark skin radiant in the sparse moonlight. I find my gaze continually dipping to his prominent eight-pack, imagining what his sweaty skin will taste like as I lick down and?—
“Come on, Brylee,” Kylian taunts, his voice low and husky. “My eyes are up here, you horny slut.”
“You’re one to talk,” I scoff, continuing to circle him.
Once, when we were sparring, my sports bra drifted down just enough to show the tip of my areola.
I thought Kylian would take me right then and there.
Surprisingly, he has more self-restraint than I give him credit for.
But dammit, he lit a fire in me, and not just the sexy kind. I want tobeathim. Not just spar until he manages to get the killing blow and we’re forced to start again. The bastard is even going easy on me—pulling his punches, applying just enough pressure to simulate a takedown, slicing inches from my skin without ever nicking flesh.
It’s maddening.
I keep my eyes locked on his, not the dagger in his hand. I learned that lesson the hard way. Watch the eyes, watch thechest, watch the shoulders—they telegraph the moves before the weapon follows.
Kylian lunges suddenly, faster than I expect, given how long we’ve been at this and how tired we both are. The dagger slices through the air where my throat was a second ago. I twist away and feel the breeze of its passing against my skin. My training kicks in—the muscle memory from my months at Eros.
“Too slow,” I breathe out, dropping into an offensive stance and sweeping my leg out.
He hops it easily, and his laugh echoes in the quiet clearing, that unhinged sound that still makes my heart race. “You're beautiful when you're trying to kill me.”
I don't respond. Words are distractions, and I’ve had enough of those in the last hour. I watch his feet now, the way he shifts his weight. He's preparing for another attack, but this time he's feinting left. I see it in the subtle tilt of his shoulders.
When Kylian comes at me again, I'm ready. I sidestep and grab his wrist with both hands, using his momentum against him. The dagger clatters to the forest floor as I twist his arm behind his back and press him against the rough bark of a nearby oak.
His body tenses for a moment before relaxing against me, a low groan escaping his lips. “God, I love it when you do that.”
I release him and step back quickly. “This is training, Kylian. Not foreplay.”
Though it’s beginning to feel an awful lot like both.
He turns slowly and retrieves his dagger, his eyes dark with desire and something else—pride. He loves that I can hold my own, that I'm not just another conquest.
“Prove it,” Kylian challenges and gestures with the blade. “Show me you're not just playing.”
I nod once, acknowledging the challenge. The next round begins, and this time, I won't just defend. I'll attack.
I don't wait for Kylian to regain his full composure. The moment his fingers tighten around the hilt of his dagger, I surge forward. My feet are silent on the forest floor as I close the distance between us. He's expecting me to feint, to dance around him like before. I don't.
Instead, I drive my shoulder hard into his chest. The impact knocks the air from his lungs in a sharp grunt, and his surprise is my opening. I follow through, sweeping his legs out from under him. Kylian hits the ground with a heavy thud. The dagger flies from his grasp and lands somewhere in the dark grass.
Before he can recover, I'm on him, straddling his chest, my forearm pressed firmly against his throat. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to make the point.
