"I'm awake." She tugs at my vest buckles. "Very, very awake."
"The cameras?—"
"Are in the hallways. Not in here." She gets one buckle open. "Production rules. Privacy in sleeping quarters."
"Someone could interrupt?—"
"Korgan." She cups my face, makes me look at her. "I spent twelve hours thinking I'd never get to touch you again. And now you're here, telling me you love me, that you went to war for me?—"
"Metaphorically."
"—and I want you. Right now. No more waiting, no more strategy. Just us."
Her hands shake slightly. Nerves or adrenaline or both.
I cover her hands with mine. "You're sure."
"Completely." She kisses my jaw, my throat, the sensitive spot behind my ear she discovered in the pavilion. "Unless you're too busy planning our next tactical move?—"
My mouth covers hers to shut her up. Push her gently backward onto the bed, covering her body with mine. She makes a pleased sound, legs wrapping around my hips.
"No more strategy," I murmur against her mouth. "Just this."
"Finally."
We take our time. Strip each other slowly despite the urgency humming between us. Her sweater comes off first, revealing soft skin and freckles I want to memorize. My vest joins it on the floor, then my shirt.
She traces the ritual scars across my chest, fingertips gentle. "These mean something."
"Coming-of-age marks. Each one represents a trial."
"How many trials?"
"Twelve."
She kisses the nearest one. "Tell me about this one."
"Trinity—"
"I want to know you. All of you."
So I tell her. Between kisses and touches and the slow exploration of skin, I explain the trials. The hunts and challenges and tests of strength that marked my transition from youth to warrior.
She listens, asking questions, learning me the way she learns recipes—with complete focus and genuine curiosity.
When I slip her jeans off, she shivers. Nerves.
"We can stop?—"
"Don't you dare." She pulls me back down. "I'm just... you're really here. This is really happening."
"I'm here." I nibble her shoulder, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. "Not going anywhere."
She arches into me, hands gripping my shoulders. "Good. Because I have plans."
"Plans?"
"For you. For us. For—" Her breath catches when I kiss lower. "—for after we destroy the producers and win this whole ridiculous show."
