I can land a jab, but I can’t hit him hard enough for it to matter.
Time to shift strategy. If I can’t generate enough force with my fists and legs, I need something larger.
Kaidren tries to swipe my feet out from under me. I leap over his extended leg, pressing closer to him.
I curl a fist and thrust it at his side, slower than before.
He takes the bait. Snatches at my arm before I can strike him.
As Kaidren focuses on grabbing me—I ram my body into his.
The force of an entire person hurtling against him is enough to put him off-balance. He doesn’t tip over, but in his shock, he throws out his arms for stability.
My body is still near his. I hook a leg around him and shove my heavy boot into the back of his knee.
Kaidren’s leg buckles. My palms slap against his chest, sending him tumbling, flailing limbs and all.
My goal is to land on top of him, so I can press the knife hidden in my pocket to his throat.
I fail.
Well, not entirely.
I knock him over and land astride his body, as planned. He’s on his back, and I’m poised over his chest, legs on either side of his wide torso.
Where I go wrong: I underestimate his reaction time. Theinstant his back hits the ground, he wraps his arms around me and rolls us over.
I’m breathless as he slams me into the snow. Kaidren’s body is laid out over mine. I feel each pane of him, warm and solid. His broad chest, rising and falling rapidly; the muscles of his abdomen, taut and clenched tight; the cords of his thighs, muscle bound and warm, as they dig into my hips.
Our breaths are heavy, faces a hairsbreadth away, panting white mist into the air between us.
This is the closest we’ve ever been. Through the mesh eyes of my mask, I see him. Every contour of his face, the light flush of his cheeks from exertion and cold, the soft lines around his mouth, the slight crookedness of his nose. From this distance, I can count his damn eyelashes.
The false kindness he dons like armor is gone. As I breathe his air and feel his heartbeat, he is all harsh lines and wild eyes.
His lips curl into a snarl as a creeping, gloved hand slides down, down, down, along my side . . .
My eyes follow its path. We’ve landed near a discarded blade. It used to have a tshira hilt, but that’s a puddle of useless goo now.
The blade isjustoutside his arm’s reach. If he shifts us over, he’ll have all he needs to kill me in seconds. Worse, he could win.
Not an option.
I try and bring up my arms to shove him off me.
Before I can, he slots his free arm over my chest. His arm spans the width of my shoulders, pinning them—and me—to the ground.
I struggle ineffectually beneath him, glaring through mesh.
Ice crystals creep through the fabric of my uniform aroundmy neck. I shudder at the sensation of snow melting against my skin, burning and cold, all at once.
Kaidren takes a deep breath—and the hand straining for the sword wavers.
A murky emotion flickers in his deep brown eyes. They widen in something like surprise, and his slightly crooked nose scrunches in confusion.
Why? I have no idea, nor do I care. My arms are trapped, my knife is stuck in a pocket I can’t reach, and I have only a moment of reprieve to get myself out of this.
Panicked, I draw up the only part of my body I have left at my disposal—my legs—and ensnare them around his waist.
