A vein in his forehead throbs, and he taps the mat.
I release him immediately and offer him a hand up.
“Nice move,” he says. “How do you do that? Am I telegraphing with my eyes or something?”
I shake my head. “It’s a veydra thing.”
His eyebrows hit his hairline, where sweaty curls have formed a wild nest. “Are you reading my mind?”
I shake my head. “It’s an extra sense, if anything. I have no idea what your brain is doing, but I can tap into the way your body moves. Almost like a frequency.”
“That’s fucking cool.” Gideon offers me an unopened water bottle, and for a second, I leave him hanging, too startled to take it.
No one thinks veydran are cool—especially not other shifters. I know Gideon’s parents raised him on Earth, but surely they told him about the dynamics on the home realm.
“I think she’s going easy on him,” he says.
I glance at Celine and Quaid. They’re grappling on the mat, talking about various holds and transition moves through ragged breaths.
I walk over to them and tap my foot. “Is this playtime or a real competition?”
Celine blows a strand of flame-red hair out of her eyes and narrows them at me. “It’s training. We’re learning.”
I hum as if I’m considering it and smirk. “Good to know. You should also know that if you lose to him, your team is done.”
She rolls her eyes, but I know she won’t allow a loss.
The lean muscle in her arms flexes, and she flips the much bigger man onto his back. Before she can land the hold, though, he curls on his side, messing up her angle and starting the struggle all over again.
It takes her fifteen minutes to get him to tap.
I’m impressed.
They scramble to their feet, smiling and panting.
Celine circles me. “Let’s go,” she says. “I want to see if you can beat me without the cloak.”
I huff a laugh, but my heart is pounding.
We face each other, and neither of us holds back. I mirror her moves, but as I discovered in the ring at the Mouth of Hell, I’m almost too late every time. Celine moves with immediate intent. She never hesitates; her combat style is skilled but instinctual. I’ve never fought anyone so in touch with their own body.
Which is how I end up with Celine sitting on my chest, her knees pinning my arms. Her thighs are spread, and her mouth is set in a determined line. It should be precarious, and maybe it is, but the view short-circuits my brain. All my instincts abandon me. Except for one.
Gods, she’s the loveliest creature I’ve ever seen.
“Are you going to tap out?” she demands. Her chest is heaving, and a drop of sweat trickles down her neck. I watch it disappear under the collar of her shirt and lick my lips. “Riven, doyou tap?”
“Why the fuck would he?” Gideon mutters, only to be shushed by Quaid.
“Never, darling,” I whisper.
Lifting my legs, I drive them down and use the momentum to dislodge her. Then she’s under me, and every inch of her body is pressed against mine. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s panting, and the fire in her eyes...Gods, this was a mistake.
I freeze, tapping the mat before jumping to my feet. Touching her was a bad idea. No good can come from me feeding my obsession. Grabbing the water bottle, I unscrew the top and drink deeply, kicking myself for being obvious. I should have let her pin me and pretended I couldn’t get free. That way, she wouldn’t be staring at me with a question in her brown eyes.
My saving grace? She won’t ask it out loud.
She fears my answer as much as I do.
