Jax.
The flickering torches cast shadows along the stone floor, but he stands out like a flame in the darkness. His shirt hangs open, revealing his impossibly toned chest with peaks of hard muscle covered by the dark, delicate lines of his tattoo. Each line moves as if it’s alive, writhing with every calculated move he makes.
His sword slices through the air like an extension of his body. Each strike against his opponent lands with a force that makes my blood run hot.
The man facing him is covered in mesh armor that shimmers in the faint light. But even with the added protection—one that Jax doesn’t wear—he’s barely holding his ground.
It’s almost like watching an intricate dance. Every step coordinated, every motion deliberate. And yet, there’s an edge to it, as if Jax isn’t just battling against this other man, but also whatever lives just beneath the surface of that mask he loves to wear.
I press my forehead against the cool stone, my ribs tightening as I continue to watch him. The way his muscles flex and ripple beneath his skin…it’s mesmerizing. His dark hair clings to his damp forehead, and beads of sweat trail down his temples, his neck, his heaving chest.
He’s beautiful.
Fierce and untouchable, a force of nature hiding within the body of a man.
I bite my lip. I shouldn’t be watching him like this, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.
But then he stops moving, his gaze traveling to the far corner of the room, finding the two beautiful women who I hadn’t even noticed, but clearly, they’ve been there this whole time, watching him, just as I’ve been.
They stroll over to him, their laughter soft and irritating.
They stand beside him, leaning in close, but they don’t touch him.
Something flares in my chest, feeling sharp and unwelcome, and fuckingpainful.
Anger. That’s what I’m feeling. Undeniable rage because is this where he’s been all this time? Laughing with them? Training while they watch? While I sit locked away and isolated?
My hands curl into fists, my vision turning red.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to spy?”
I whirl around to face the owner of that smooth, mocking voice, my heart hammering even harder than it was before.
Theo.
His smirk is dangerous, his eyes glimmering with something that sends a wave of panic through me.
“And what exactly are you looking at that has you so angry, Little Flame?” He steps beside me, having to bend over to peer through the vent, and when he chuckles lightly, I know he’s spotted them. “How interesting.”
“You really seem to like that word, don’t you?” I seethe, hating that I’ve been caught—but hating even more how this must look. Like I’mjealous, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
“What can I say?” His eyes fix on me. “I find a lot of things interesting.”
“Well, consider me one less thing to add to your list,” I snap, grinding my teeth.
He chuckles again, low and infuriating. “Don’t fret, Little Flame. I’m a taken man. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me, at least not inthatregard.”
Theo Bray? A taken man? Loyal to only one?
I want to laugh, but the sound dies in my throat when I hear a louder laugh.
My attention turns back to the vent.
The woman with wavy blond hair throws her head back as if Ryjax has said the funniest thing in the world. Which Iknowcan’t be true because that man couldn’t crack a joke if his gods-damned life depended on it.
She reaches for him, dragging her manicured fingernail along his naked chest, and he grabs her wrist.
Red-hot fury blurs my vision, and my hands burn with a fire I can’t suppress.
