When I sweep her legs, she goes down but rolls immediately, coming up ready. The mat slaps under her palm as she springs back. The dress rides up as she moves, flashing pale thigh, and I catch myself tracking the movement. When I grab her from behind, arm across her throat, she drops her weight, throws an elbow into my ribs that actually makes me grunt, and slips free.
We're both breathing hard now, the sound echoing off the mirrors. Sweat beads at her temple, makes her smell like exertion and that damned floral scent, stronger now with her heat. The shapeless dress clings in places it didn't before, the cotton hugging her body with sweat in spots that make my mouth go dry.
And fuck me, but watching her move like this, precise and lethal and still holding back, makes me harder than I've been since the gala.
"Stop playing with me," I growl, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Show me what you really have."
Something shifts in her eyes. A decision being made. A mask coming off.
She attacks.
The speed catches me off guard. One second she's standing there, defensive, the next she's coming at me with intent to damage. A strike toward my throat that I barely block, her hand like a blade that would have crushed my windpipe if it had landed.
A knee drives toward my groin. I twist, take it on my thigh instead, but the force still makes me stagger. An elbow clips my jaw before I can fully recover, snapping my head back. I taste copper, feel warm blood coating my teeth.
There she is.
I grin, probably looking unhinged with blood on my teeth. "There's my girl."
The words escape before I can stop them, and I see her eyes widen slightly. But I don't take them back. Can't.
We fight for real now. No more testing, no more holding back. Bodies colliding, grappling, struggling for advantage. The sound of our harsh breathing mingles with the slap of flesh on flesh, the squeak of bare feet on mats. She's fast, faster thanmost of my men, and her technique is flawless. Special forces? Intelligence training? Something else entirely?
The dress hampers her movements slightly, and she adjusts, using it to her advantage, letting it disguise her real position until the last second. When we grapple close, I'm hyperaware of every inch of her. The heat of her skin through thin cotton, the way the fabric slides, what it reveals and conceals with each movement.
She fights with the same precise violence that killed my brother. The thought should make me hate her more. It doesn't.
I'm stronger and I have reach, but she uses my size against me. When I overextend on a grab, she's already moving, using my momentum to send me off balance. When I try to pin her, she finds the gap in my hold and exploits it.
Christ, she's magnificent. All that deadly grace wrapped in cotton and sweat and fury.
I catch her arm finally, use my weight advantage to spin her, slam her against the mirrored wall, then pull her close. Her back to my chest, my forearm across her collarbone, both of us panting. I can feel her heart hammering against my arm. Can feel the curve of her ass pressed against mine. The heat of her skin burns through the thin cotton, and I'm acutely aware of how little separates us.
"Who trained you?" My voice is rough in her ear.
She doesn't answer, but I feel the slight shift of her weight. Testing. Always testing.
I'm rock hard against her ass and I know she can feel it. The fight, her skill, the heat of her body, it's all twisted together into something I can't control.
"Who trained you, Sofia?"
"My family."
"Which one?"
"All of them."
I spin her again, facing me now. My hands pin her wrists above her head against the mirror. The skin under my palms is soft, delicate, at odds with the strength I just felt. My thigh pushes between her legs, and I tell myself it's for control, not because I need to feel her heat against me.
"You fight like an assassin."
"I fight like a survivor."
"Same thing in our world."
Her chest heaves with each breath. Her lips are parted. There's a cut on her cheekbone where my elbow must have caught her, a thin line of blood that makes her look wild. Dangerous.
I want to lick it off her face. Want to drop to my knees right here and taste her properly. Want to fuck her against this mirror until neither of us can stand.
