Kael struck again.
And this time, he didn’t hold back.
He knocked her to the floor with a sweep of his leg, and she hit the mats with a gasp, the wind knocked from her lungs.
Before she could move, he was over her.
Knees pinning her hips, hands planted on either side of her head, face only inches from hers.
Maris froze.
His scent engulfed her, smoke and pine and crushed roses. The weight of him above her, the tension in his arms, the way his hair curtained their faces from the watching world,
It was maddening.
If he leaned down, just slightly . . .
No.
Her throat bobbed, breath hitching.
“You’re… crushing me.”
He didn't budge, his eyes flicked to her lips. A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth, all charm and trouble revealing his too sharp canine.
“You're not exactly fighting me off, love. Maybe you should stop looking so damn comfortable beneath me.”
Her pulse fluttered like a trapped thing. She wanted to scream, hit him, or pull him closer and see how far this dance of knives and need could really go.
And something inside her — snapped.
A rush of heat bloomed beneath her skin.
The ring of silver around the sparring floor glowed, flaring like white fire.
Kael froze.
Their bodies still pressed together, he stilled completely. Not even breathing.
He looked down at her.
And for the first time, hesitated.
Then.. darkness surged from his palm and she gasped.
Everything went black.
-Kael-
He tried not to think as he climbed the stone steps toward the Seer’s chamber.
Didn’t speak when the iron doors opened with a groan. Didn’t speak when the blind girl on the dais turned her milky gaze toward him, her mouth stitched shut by magic older than kingdoms.
But the Seer didn’t need eyes to know who had come.
She reached for her bowl of bone-carved runes.
Dropped one. Let it clatter across the floor.
