But it was there in the cold fury of his eyes, the soft parting of his lips, the lines of his body against mine, his forearm at my throat. My core clenched, my thighs shifting imperceptibly to quell the ache. His eyes snapped to meet mine and I froze. He had felt it, subtle as I was trying to be. He was a fucking elven; all his senses were heightened. Embarrassment tinged my cheeks and I tried to hide it, but that beast was back, prowling and hungry.
And gods be damned, Iwanted.
I could not sense where his anger ended and mine began. It was one and the same. Combined so completely that to remove one from the other would be impossible.
“What are you doing here, Lirah?” His words were soft. The softest I had ever heard from him.
He had never called me that before. Only addressed me in full. Though I had been called the nickname many times by others, I had never noticed how intimate and vulnerable it felt.
His fingers stilled along the seam of my gear, mere inches from my midriff. Surely, he could hear my heart galloping wildly.
“I’m here to make you bleed. To make you suffer,” I managed to get out, my voice hoarse, my tongue parched.
He pressed his hips against mine. My corethrobbed. Fuck me. I had been worried about the challenges when I should have been worried about Kilian Fucking Valhan. I was not going to make it out of this room alive. When Lana eventually came looking for me, she’d find me melted in a puddle of desire on Kilian’s bedroom floor.
“I think you’ve succeeded in making me suffer,” he whispered into my ear.
I was contemplating how to make his hips repeat their movement one inch to the right, when the sound of a bell trilled everywhere.
“Candidates,” Septimus’ unmistakable voice rang out through the hallways, echoing in Kilian’s bedroom. “Your hour is up. Please make your way back to the sparring room.”
Kilian let out what I could have sworn was a frustrated sigh, but he gently extricated his hold on me. I instantly mourned the loss of contact.
“You’d better go. Before Septimus comes looking for you.” Kilian stepped away so I could pass. “Or before I change my mind and make you get on your hands and knees.”
Heat blossomed in my cheeks, my stomach dipping as if I were falling.
“To clean the mess you made, of course.” A devilish grin pulled at the corner of his lips, and fuck – if I had thought he was beautifulglaring, that smile nearly brought me to my knees.
I needed to get out of there. I had to leave before I did something stupid and reckless and irrevocable. I hurried to the door, stepping over the pages strewn across the floor. My hand was on the doorknob when he said, “You stole a paperweight from the desk. Put it back.”
Gods above, how did he even know that? My hands clenched into fists at my side, but I didn’t turn around. “Make me,” I threw out behind me.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he muttered darkly as I slipped out the door.
CHAPTER 8
The first official challenge was only hours away and I hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep all night. I had tossed and turned, until finally crossing the hallway to Lana’s bedroom and knocking softly on her door. She’d answered immediately.
Now I sat at the foot of her bed, clutching a pillow to my chest. We’d been fully dressed for hours – in fleece-lined leathers and thick winter coats, because we didn’t need the threat of hypothermia to add to our problems – waiting for the challenge to start. Nausea roiled in the pit of my stomach. My queasiness had nothing to do with the pepper steak pie I had eaten at dinner the previous night, and everything to do with the gnawing dread that something terrible was about to happen.
It felt like tiny spiders were crawling across my skin, every small sound in the passageway enough to make me whip my head to the door in fresh panic.
“Stop looking at the door. You’re going to make me vomit,” Lana groaned, covering her head with a pillow.
A knock sounded and both Lana and I’s heads swiveled to stare at the door. Lana’s face was tinged a sickly shade of green as she crossed to the peephole and looked out. Her shoulders drooped in relief as she unlatched the door. “It’s only Moric and Anama.”
The others crossed into the room, both also fully dressed.
“How long have you been waiting?” Moric asked, sliding against Lana’s dresser to sit on the floor. Anama remained by the door, a nervous look on her face.
“Since midnight,” I said.
“Do you think they’ll allow us to take any supplies with us?” Moric asked.
“Doubtful,” Lana responded.
We sat in tense silence, the only sound that of our sprites’ soft snores blending harmoniously. They were ethereal even in sleep, I noted, staring down at where Calendula rested on my thigh. She had given me a few pointers on the survival challenge, warning me to keep hidden during the night, not draw attention to myself by starting a fire no matter how cold it was, and to always stay alert. The survival challenge did not require brute strength or mental reasoning; it tested a mortal’s instinctual senses, she had said.
