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Rymedur’s grin pulled his lips into an impossibly large smile, full of mischief and playfulness. ‘And if I win—’ his tone dropped as he inched closer ‘—I will be having a delicious treat myself.’ He let his innuendo linger as his gaze pointedly raked over her body.

Gods, she was exquisite. The way the corset cinched tight, leathers like a second skin around her legs. She moved with agile grace, almost feline. And the way she looked at him—gods. He was already done for. She would be the death of him. He knew it, and he didn’t mind one bit.

Areanel did not reply. She didn’t have to. Not with the way her eyes hooded. He could taste the way her blood heated, could imagine the wetness pooling where he ached to have her. Her scent shifted to something heady, wanting—and Rymedur wanted nothing more than to have her. All of her. Right there and then, damn where they were.

Blinking her lashes furiously, Areanel shook her head as though to clear her mind before she moved, quick as a lightning strike, towards him. Throwing her left hand forward, she thrust her blade at him.

Taken aback by her sudden movement, Rymedur flipped his scythe to his other hand to block the blade from slicing through his leathers. Damn, had she always been this quick?

An unrelenting grip grasped his right hand, using the momentum of his parry to pull him forward. Areanel slipped through his fingers and ducked beneath his arm.

With strength he had no idea she possessed, Areanel slammed her back into his abdomen and used the position to flip him over. There was a moment of weightlessness as Rymedur dived, headfirst, to the floor. Landing with a grunt, air whooshed out of his lungs.

This was the second time he’d found himself breathless—and that isn’t counting every time his eyes landed on Areanel. Sometimes he was surprised he even remembered to breathe around her.

Gulping precious oxygen, Rymedur could do nothing but watch as Areanel sauntered over to him. He was certain she added more sway to her hips as she moved. Not fair. Not fair at all.

With one hand, she sheathed her blade in the scabbard resting at her lower back, her eyes never leaving his. Those cobalt gems transfixed him, even as she bent to pick up his discarded scythe that had clattered to the floor.

Her approach was slow, teasing, and Rymedur could not move. She came to stand over him, a wide triumphant grin replacing the worry lines that had previously etched her face—and Rymedur took it as a win. She was no longer anxious.

He had made her smile.

Rymedur found himself licking his lips as each of her knees dropped to either side of him until she was straddling his hips, pinning him down—a position he was all too familiar with. One of his favourites, it had his heart racing and other parts hardening within a matter of seconds. Fuck, his mind all but groaned. She was radiant. Rymedur had no faith in the Elvadora, but in that moment, she looked like a god

Excitement ran ragged along his spine, igniting fire in its wake. His desire spiked. And by the shift in scent, so had hers.

Gods, she was going to kill him. But was this really a terrible way to go?

Lust was a welcome beast. Desire raced after her touch; the warmth of her palms against him sent his mind into overdrive. She hovered over him, his scythe in hand, as her hands made their way up his abdomen. The press of her palms on him had his imagination running wild.

An arm came to rest on the mat beside his mess of midnight curls as she leaned further into him. She was so close he could practically taste her. He wanted more. Needed more.

When the blade of his own weapon came to rest at the base of his neck, Rymedur had to force himself not to reach up and grab her face. He wanted to crash his lips against hers, devour her until she begged for more.

Their children were at the edge of the mat, he had to remind himself. He would have her later.

But the way she leaned into his touch, taking up his space so that she was the only thing he could see as she pressed their bodies impossibly close. It took every ounce of self-control for him to remain still. Remember, eyes are watching.

Electric blue met his bright emerald eyes.

‘Berry.’ The phantom touch of her lips against the shell of his ear sent shivers rushing down his spine. Excitement and confusion both shook him from his reverie.

‘What?’ He was a ragged mess, panting.

‘I won,’ Areanel answered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she pushed the blade further into his neck. That shouldn’t have incited the reaction it did—thirst, want, desire. ‘You owe me a pastry. I would like a berry jam, please.’ Her words were lost to a chuckle that had his chest heaving as his heart fluttered.

Rymedur tried to gather his wits, but with Areanel so close, he found it rather difficult. It was like she was taking up all of his thoughts.

Slowly inching his hands up from her knees, he let them smooth over the backs of her thighs, enjoying the way her eyes fluttered and her breath hitched. His hands came to rest at her hips.

Calling on his shadows, Rymedur sent a thought that had them darting away from his skin and wrapping around her waist, holding her in place. Tightening his grip, Rymedur’s quick movements had them flipping until the weight of his body pressed into her. Hovering over her, he flattened his body to hers, pushing into her and pinning her down.

Thud. His scythe fell out of her loosened grip, dropping to the mat next to her hair. Rymedur reached up to grab hold of her wrists, planting them on either side of her head. Pinning her in place.

‘You underestimate my hunger, little demon.’ Rymedur pressed his hips into hers, emphasising his point and relishing the way her chest heaved at the insinuation. Her reaction to him was just as exquisite as she was. ‘And to what extent I will go to achieve what I want. Or have you forgotten who I used to be?’

Lust filled her hooded gaze. ‘Used to be?’ Areanel tilted her head at him, a question in her eyes. ‘Are you not the acclaimed warrior of Selcirith?’ The smirk that graced her lips was a mixture of teasing and pride.