A slow smile graced his lips. He was sweating, too, but not from exertion. All those layers he had on, not to mention the sweltering heat, must have been unbearable. And yet he didn’t complain.
He helped her to her feet, but just as he was about to pull away, Biyu grasped his forearm and anchored him in place. He stilled, his blue eyes flicking to her.
They hadn’t spoken the entire spar and now that it was time to speak, she had no words. She could only breathe heavily, blinking through the sweat trickling down her eyebrows. She didn’t release his forearm, her fingers pressing against one of the straps that held a short knife beneath his leather sleeve.
“Why did you—” She swallowed down the nerves buzzing in her belly. She was warm all over; from her head down to her toes. Not from the heat. But from his closeness. From the strange way he made her feel. “Why did you want to spar with me? You didn’t even try to hit me.”
Nikator studied her quietly. He raised a hand and slowly grasped a strand of hair that had come undone from her low bun. He tucked it behind her ear, and a trail of warmth followed the motion. “You looked like you needed a break.”
“Why do you care?”
He didn’t say anything this time, only watched her. A small tremor wracked over her body and she couldn’t stop the tightening of her chest. He was her enemy. He had helped ruin her life. He was never going to be her ally. But she wanted to touch him, to embrace him, to feel those arms around hers so badly. She needed him more than she needed anything else, and that shocked her down to her core.
He wasn’t supposed to care for her. He was her watcher, her guard, her executioner.
And yet he cared for these little things about her.
He wasn’t kind.
He wasn’t … her friend, and he never would be.
Biyu was tired of running away. Tired of pretending that he didn’t spark desire in her. That he wasn’t absolutely beautiful. That something about him didn’t tempt the darkest part of her, and warmed the coldest part of her heart. The broken parts, too.
She touched the side of his face and he froze beneath her touch. His eyes searched hers and she waited for him to push heraway, to retreat, to do anything that told her he didn’t want this. That he didn’t want her. But he made no move to do that, only stared down at her.
He was too tall for her, even if she went on her tippy toes. She grasped onto one of his shoulders and tried anyway, raising herself up. She hovered like that for a few seconds, her mouth parted, and her calves burning from keeping the position. That small attempt seemed to break something in him and he grabbed her hips gently, leaning forward. He pressed his lips against hers and kissed her, hard.
His touch was electric, forbidden,heated.
He pulled her flush against his body and every part of her flesh ignited in flames; his mouth moved slowly, devouring her, and her eyelids fluttered shut. She couldn’t think beyond his lips. Beyond his hands on her.
She dragged her hands up his back, her fingers exploring every inch of the hard planes and muscles along his body. She deepened the kiss, a soft moan escaping from her. She needed air, but she didn’t want to breathe in anything but him. She didn’t want to forget the feel of his hands caressing her, erupting heat all over her, and breaking the walls of her heart.
Her head tipped back and Nikator trailed kisses down the column of her throat while she gulped in air. Her body trembled and she hooked her hands on his shoulders. She needed him more than she needed anything else. She wanted to forget everything in these moments. She wanted to lose herself in him. She wanted … him, completely.
She didn’t care that they were enemies. She didn’t care that he could kill her if he wanted to, that they were bound together by a cursed marriage spell, that they were supposed to hate each other. None of that mattered.
Nikator broke the kiss and her eyes snapped open to find him peering down at her with a feral look on his face; his eyes burned like blue flames.
“Say my name,” he whispered.
“Nikator.”
He grasped the sides of her face and studied her for a few moments, the longing clear, and Biyu waited with bated breath for his lips to find hers again. His thumb brushed over her swollen upper lip, and desire flared in her. “Damn it. You’re so beautiful.”
Her face flushed and he kissed her again. This time, gentler. Like he wanted to take his time to savor her. And she did too; she wanted even more of him, but she didn’t know how to ask for that. She wasn’t even sure she could handle that right now, either, because her feelings were nearly bursting at the seams of her vessel.
He tasted sweet, like berries bursting in her mouth. The scent of leather, ocean breeze, and spiced vanilla filled her senses. She trailed her hands up his face, his warm skin rough with stubble, and dug her fingers into his hair.
She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she was unraveling. Messy, uncertain, but needy. She thought first kisses were supposed to be sweet and short. Not like this. Not long, passionate, with tongue and hot touches and grinding bodies.
It was like they both knew this was forbidden; she was an imprisoned princess with a sentence hanging over her head, and he was her executioner, her guard, the man who would kill her the first chance she proved herself to be treasonous. The man who had ruined her life. The man who consumed her every thought.
They both seemed to realize that they wouldn’t be able to do this again, and a frenzy seemed to take over as they ravenously kissed.
“Say my name,” she whispered when they pulled back to breathe.
“Prin—”
