Moonlight streamed through the tall windows of the training chamber, streaks of silver spilling across the cool stone floor. Dust motes swirled in the still air, but Reiya barely noticed them. Her focus was on Alarik as they stood across each other, the space between them charged and heavy.
Her sleeves were rolled to the elbows, sweat clinging to her skin after their last bout. They’d begun with basic stances, but now moved in and out of mock sparring, footwork and feints sharpening with each exchange. Her fitted tunic and breeches offered freedom to move—but Alarik’s presence made every breath feel tight.
He wore only a pair of loose black pants, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat, muscles shifting with effortless control. His quiet intensity, the way his gaze followed her every move, made her skin feel overheated, too aware.
“This isn’t archery,” he said. “This is hand-to-hand combat. You won’t win by being reactive. You have to predict me. Outmaneuver me.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m learning.”
“Good, but learn faster.”
He moved. She barely registered his step before his hand aimed for her shoulder. She twisted instinctively, ducking just enough to avoid his grip, her heart jolting as his fingers brushed the fabric of her tunic. He pivoted with her, circling, forcing her to adjust her stance.
“You hesitate,” he murmured, his voice edged with challenge. “You think too much.”
Reiya planted her feet, steadying herself, ignoring the sharp tug of frustration. Shewasthinking, but not about Alarik’s footwork or the fight.
Not entirely.
The problem washim—his presence, his nearness. Every step he took, every shift of his weight, every ripple of muscle, seemed to crowd her senses, until it felt as though the room itself had shrunk. She was achingly aware of the way he moved, fluid and deliberate, as if he were untangling her resolve one careful thread at a time.
There was also his scent—faint, but unmistakable. Heat and dark spice, it coiled through her thoughts with insidious precision, slipping past her defences. She gritted her teeth against it, but it was already sinking in, leaving her off-balance.
Focus, Reiya.
But focus was difficult when memories of their night together crept in unbidden, vivid enough to make her pulse skip. The weight of his hands on her hips, holding her firm as he murmured her name in a voice that sent liquid warmth curling low in her stomach. The rough scrape of his stubble against her throat. The way he hadclaimedher in that nest—without hesitation, without gentleness.
Her body remembered him—his shape, his feel, his pulse.
Hehad made certain of that.
She wasn’t sure anymore if this training could ease her restlessness.
If anything, it amplified the heat.
Her breath came faster, heart pounding beneath her ribs, as though responding to an unseen call. The shift within her was subtle at first—like a flicker of light at the edges of her mind—but it deepened with every passing second, every brush of Alarik’s gaze, every inhale of his scent.
She dropped her stance lower, willing herself to focus on the fight instead of the rising tension humming in her blood. But her limbs felt heavy, uncooperative, as if something deeper—something primal—was dragging her toward him.
“Distracted?” Alarik’s voice cut through the haze, dark and low.
Reiya shot him a glare, defiance sharpening her edges. “You wish.”
Alarik tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth, though his eyes remained watchful. “Prove me wrong, then.”
He lunged for her wrist, and she twisted free, but not before his hand skimmed her skin—a fleeting contact that sent heat rippling upher arm. She exhaled sharply, stumbling as she turned to face him again.
Alarik circled her now, slow and deliberate, his gaze sharp but unreadable. “Your form’s slipping. You’re not focused.”
She knew it, but the words stung anyway.
Reiya forced herself to steady, her muscles coiling with renewed purpose. “Iamfocused.”
Alarik advanced again, and this time, Reiya struck first. She aimed a jab toward his side, but he deflected it effortlessly, catching her wrist and spinning her off-balance. The air left her lungs in a sharp gasp as she collided with him, his grip firm as his arm looped around her waist.
Her back pressed against his chest, solid and unyielding. The room felt too hot, too close, and her heartbeat roared in her ears.
“Focus,” Alarik murmured near her ear, breath warm against her skin.
