So maybe it’s not weakness, maybe it’s just honesty. I’ve got eyes, and right now, like everybody else in the room, they’re on him.
“You studying for technique or abs?” A voice murmurs behind me. I jolt, just enough to give myself away. Beth grins as she leans in, smug as ever. “Don’t worry, everyone’s staring. Hard not to. Talen fights like he fucks.”
God, I do not need that image in my head, but Beth would know, wouldn’t she? She’d said their parents had an arrangement. But maybe it was more than that... Maybe they’d?—
No. Stop. I shove it down hard, jaw tight. Why do I even care? I roll my eyes and look back at the mat, face blank, refusing to let any of it show.
They’ve finally stopped. Talen’s grinning, panting slightly, one hand braced on his thigh. There’s blood at the corner of his lip, a smear of red against bronze, but he doesn’t seem to care.
Beside me, Beth lets out a soft sigh, too dreamy to be subtle, and pushes off the bench heading straight for Lucien. Hips swaying with practiced ease, like she’s stepping on to a stage, not a blood soaked sparring mat. He sees her coming, eyes light up like she’s exactly what he’s been waiting for.
Behind him, Talen spits to the side, then drags his tongue over his bottom lip, catching it briefly between his teeth before he turns—giving me his full back for the first time.
My gaze catches and holds.
Black scales follow the line of his spine in jagged, deliberate rows—ink worked into every ridge and hollow of muscle. They start low, faint where they curl at the base of his back, more shadow than shape. But with each vertebra, they grow darker. The lines cut cleaner, the edges more defined, until the ink looks carved in.
By the time they reach his shoulders, the pattern fans wide—spreading across his back in angular arcs, each scale shaped like it could slice skin if you touched it wrong. And as he moves, they shift with him, flexing, catching light in a way that makes them seem alive.
I’m still staring, still tracking the ink, following the pattern as it pulls tight over the curve of his shoulders—when he turns, facing me head-on.
My breath catches, a sharp, unwelcome stutter cutting into the rhythm beneath my chest as my fingers curl against my thighs.Okay, maybe watching was a bad idea.
Gaze still locked on mine, lips parted, he wipes a line of sweat from his jaw with the back of his hand.
Then he moves, closing the distance in a few easy strides until he’s right there, close. Close enough for the heat of his skin to brush mine, for the sharp tang of sweat and something sour to catch in the back of my throat.
My skin suddenly feels too tight, too aware, like every inch of me is waiting, bracing. Then he leans in, hot breath brushing my ear, voice heavy from exertion.
“You guarding my clothes now? Or just hoping I’ll have to walk back to my chambers half naked?” he asks, gesturing behind me.
I follow his motion, look down and immediately want to hit myself. His shirt. His towel. His water flask, all sitting in a pile on the bench.
“Oh, I didn’t —”
“Don’t worry.” He teases. “I’ll let it slide, since you look like you’re enjoying the view.”
“Please. I’ve seen better.”
“Liar.” He replies as he reaches over me, grabs his towel and starts to wipe down, slow strokes across his neck and arms.
I push off the bench, trying to put some distance between us, but when the towel reaches his chest, I can’t help but notice the pale mark just above his heart—a patch of skin lighter than the rest, striking against the deep tan spread across his broad chest.
“You could always help.” He says, towel still moving. “Unless you’d rather just watch?”
I scoff, turning away quick. “You’d enjoy that too much.”
“Obviously.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head, but inside a rising beat won’t quit. All week he’s been civil, holding doors, polite smiles. But this? This is the Talen I expected.
“So this is your idea of a good fake date?” I keep my voice, barely more than a whisper. “Sweat, blood, and a hall full of gamblers?”
“Don’t worry, Bloom,” Talen throws the towel over his shoulder. “No one can hear you.”
I blink and look around. The roar of the hall has dulled, like someone stuffed cotton in my ears.
“You threw up a silence shield in the middle of the Rec Hall?” I question, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you think that makes us look suspicious as hell? If we’re trying to convince everyone this relationship’s real, maybe they should actually be able to hear us.”
