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I blinked. “What?”
“What time?” he asked again.
“Seven,” I said.
“Finally taking an interest in kicking and punching?” Rhyan taunted.
Tristan ignored him, pulling me to the side of the room—away from Rhyan’s ears. “Lyr,” he said, his voice hushed. He took both of my hands in his, drawing me closer, his aura cocooning around us like a protective shield. “Do you want him as your trainer?”
“Tristan,” I pleaded. “We’re bound together. This isn’t a decision you can just pay your way out of. Not when the Imperator’s involved. Not now when I’m on borrowed time.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I do. He’s good at his job—and you’re not making this any easier for me.”
“I’m sorry. I just…lose it at the thought of you being hurt. I’ll come tonight. I’ll meet you at the southernmost entrance to the arena.” He pulled me against him, his lips on mine in a lingering, claiming kiss.
I knew what this was—he needed reassurance. Rhyan had dug up old wounds and issues between us, bringing them straight to the surface. I felt weird kissing Tristan in front of Rhyan, but I also didn’t want Tristan feeling insecure. So I did what I always did—I deepened the kiss. My fingers were still entwined in his, and I guided them toward my back to pull our bodies closer.
Tristan lost focus as our lips moved together, his shield coming down.
I released his hands feeling his palms slide across my waist and up my back. But the moment he touched me, I cried out in pain, unable to help myself. His hands were exactly where the Imperator had touched me, had broken through my wounds.
Tristan immediately stopped, his hands on my shoulders to turn me around so he could inspect the damage.
Rhyan shoved his way between us before I could turn, his hands around Tristan’s neck, slamming him into the wall as a cold blast of wind pushed me backwards.
“You idiot! Don’t touch her fucking back. Why is this so hard to understand?”
“I’m all right,” I shouted. “It was my fault!”
Rhyan released Tristan, slowly stepping away from him, holding his hands up in surrender.
Tristan’s eyes met mine, hurt and anger swirling in them. “Are you all right?”
“I am, I’m sorry. I…That was my fault. I need to be more careful until I heal.”
“Lyr?” Tristan asked, starting toward me. But he changed his mind suddenly, stave back in his hands as he stalked toward Rhyan. “This overly protective gryphon-shit attitude you have? It stops now. Remember your place.” The threat in his voice was clear. “Or you will lose it.”
Rhyan breathed out a long, hard breath, his nostrils flaring as he stared at Tristan with hate in his eyes. “You’ll join her at seven. Now get the fuck out of my room.”
“I’ll be right at the door at seven exactly,” Tristan said, barely containing the anger raging inside of him. He slammed the door shut, knocking a mat leaning against the wall to the floor.
I turned on Rhyan, hurt and fury rushing through me. “By the Gods!” I shouted.
“Lyr?” Rhyan was by my side in an instant. “Did he hurt you?”
“Auriel’s fucking bane! You really won’t let that go!” I yelled. “I told you already. Why won’t you fucking believe me?”
Rhyan closed his eyes, his jaw tensing. “I didn’t mean….” He shook his head, running his fingers through his already loosened waves. “I meant, just now. I saw where his hands were. I heard you. After what the Imperator did today, that had to have hurt.”
“It did.” I looked up at him as tears blurred my vision. “And it does. But that was my fault. After that little pissing contest you just had, I had to reassure him. Fuck, Rhyan. What the hell was that?”
“He came at me—not the other way around. I’m sorry I snapped. But you know he needed to hear all of that,” he growled.
“No, he didn’t. Do you know what you just did? We’re going to be fighting all night now.”
“I’m sorry. But tell me honestly. Was I wrong? Was I, Lyr? Did he do anything differently than I said?”
