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Our bodies moved in a symphony of combat, our every motion calculated and precise. Callan's eyes bored into mine, his gaze unwavering even as we exchanged blows. The tension between us was palpable, and I knew there was more to our clash than just physical training.
Callan finally broke the silence. "What's going on with you?” His voice was low and gruff, a stark contrast to the controlled violence of our sparring. His words held a note of concern, and his brows furrowed as he studied my face.
I parried one of his strikes, my response laced with sarcasm. "Why, Callan? Can't a girl just enjoy a friendly sparring session without having something be wrong?"
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You can, but not when you’re making a face like you’re thinking of murdering someone.”
I sighed, relenting to the unspoken question in his emerald eyes. I could have lied, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. "I’ve been thinking of leaving.”
The tension between us seemed to grow, and Callan struck out, managing to get a grip on my wrist. "Leaving?" His voice was softer now, tinged with a hint of something I couldn't quite place.
I nodded, trying to keep my tone light despite the weight of my words. "I’ve never been one for sticking around anyway. It's better off if I go, isn’t it?”
Callan released my wrist, and we stepped back from each other, our chests heaving with exertion. He looked at me with a mixture of understanding and something else, something deeper. "That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Just stay and fight.”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "It's not that simple, Callan. They’re coming back for that ring, and I don’t have it. I don’t even know where to begin looking for it!”
He took a step closer. "We can find it together."
I met his eyes, the unspoken tension between us growing stronger by the second. "You’ve got your own demons to face. I can't be the reason you risk your life."
His voice was rough as he spoke, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual stoic facade. "You’re more important than you think, Rowan."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Callan," I whispered, "it's not about importance. It's about me not letting anyone take the fall for me anymore. There’s too much pain, too much death already."
He backed away, anger tightening his jaw as he withdrew, and his walls slammed back into place.
Our sparring session continued, the intensity between us not diminishing in the slightest. Callan and I were evenly matched, each move countered with precision. But as the minutes passed, a subtle shift in our rhythm occurred, a silent challenge that had us throwing increasingly harder blows.
It happened in the blink of an eye. A miscalculated step, a deflected strike, and I found myself sprawled on the ground, my back against the earth, with Callan's strong form hovering over me. The air between us thickened, holding me captive.
Neither of us moved, our rapid breaths the only sound in the clearing. The scent of sweat and exertion hung in the air, but there was an underlying current of something else.
Callan's voice was low, his words barely more than a breathless whisper. "You're a fighter, Rowan. You don't give up easily."
I gazed up at him, our faces mere inches apart, our breaths mingling. "And neither do you," I replied, my voice equally hushed, but a challenge all the same.
His gaze met mine, a hint of desire smoldering in his eyes as he said nothing, the hard length of his body pressed against mine. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew the boundaries I'd set for myself, the reasons I couldn't give in to this desire, but in that moment, they seemed impossibly distant.
My eyes darted down to his lips, my tongue coming out to wet mine involuntarily as I dragged my gaze back to his.
Callan's lips brushed against mine, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through me. It was a test, a question, a silent plea for permission. And as much as I tried to resist, I responded, my lips parting, inviting him in.
Our kiss was like fire and lightning, a clash of passion and longing that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. In that stolen moment, we forgot the world around us, lost in a world of sensation and desire as our tongues danced, my core heating until I thought I might ignite.
But reality came crashing back all too soon. The sound of a twig snapping nearby jolted us apart, and I scrambled to my feet, my cheeks flushed. Callan rose with a grace that belied his rugged appearance, his eyes still locked on mine.
"We should. . . get back to training," I muttered, my voice shaky.
"Training's over," he said tersely before turning and walking away, leaving me standing there, my heart racing. My heart hammered against my ribcage, and the heat that had coursed through my body still lingered, my limbs weak.
I watched his retreating figure, his broad shoulders and powerful stride creating a cavern of distance in no time.
With a shaky breath, I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, my fingers trembling slightly. I couldn't ignore the tingling sensation on my bruised lips, the lingering memory of his kiss fresh in my mind. Part of me longed to chase after him, to demand answers. But another part, a more cautious and self-protective part, held me back.
It would never end in my favor.
