"Your rival?" She let out a breath that might have been a laugh if it wasn't so bitter. "Is that what Luca is to you now?"
"That's what the league made him when they put us on opposite teams."
The words hung between us, heavy with implication. Reina's expression flickered, something like pain crossing her features before she locked it down.
"I need to finish setting up," she said, trying to sidestep me.
I moved with her, blocking her path. "We're not done talking."
"Yes, we are." Her voice had an edge now. "I have a job to do, Jaxon. Players to photograph. Including you, apparently."
"Good." I smiled, slow and deliberate. "Then you'll have plenty of time to look at me."
Her scent spiked again and I filed that reaction away for later.
The next hour was torture.
I went through the motions of media day, rotating through different photographers and videographers, answering the same boring questions about team dynamics and season goals. But my attention never left Reina.
I watched her work with the other players, professional and competent. Watched her adjust lighting and angles withpracticed ease. And when it was finally my turn in front of her camera, I made sure she knew exactly what she was dealing with.
"Alright, Roarke," she said, her voice steady but her hands weren't quite as she adjusted her lens. "Let's get a few action shots. Can you..."
"Can I what, Pretty Girl?" I moved closer, invading the neutral space between subject and photographer. "Tell me what you want."
Her throat worked. "I need you to hold your stick. Look intimidating."
"I am intimidating."
"More intimidating."
I shifted my grip on my stick, letting my body language go predatory. Through the camera lens, I knew exactly what she was seeing. The same thing opponents saw right before I put them through the boards.
The shutter clicked rapidly.
"Good," she murmured. "Now turn slightly to your left. I want to catch the lighting on your..."
She trailed off as I moved, closing more distance instead of turning.
"On my what?" I asked, voice low.
"Your jersey," she finished, but her pulse was hammering at her throat. "The team logo."
"Right. The logo." I didn't move back. "That all you're interested in photographing?"
"Jaxon." My name was a warning.
"Reina." I matched her tone. "Just making sure we're clear on what you're looking at."
Her scent was everywhere now, thick and intoxicating. The suppressants she was wearing were failing. I could smell it in the way her natural scent kept breaking through, stronger each time.
The other photographers were wrapping up, packing equipment and checking shot lists. The media room was starting to empty.
Perfect.
"I need to download these files," Reina said, already turning away. "We're done here."
"Not even close."
