It’s a blatantly manipulative approach—but several of our classmates have paused to watch. I doubt Other Elodie’s ego would have let her back down from a challenge that overt, manipulative or not.
If I keep refusing, are people going to start wondering why?
Why should I back down anyway? Before my matches sparked, before I lived in terror of my glim flaying everyone around me, I didn’t let myself give a shit about any of these people. Every day in the academy was a battlefield, and I took all the blows and kept going.
Maybe if I can give Salvatore a good enough beatdown,hisego will get him off my back.
He’s the one who taught me most of my current skills, back in my own reality. Who better to inflict those skills on?
I shrug, because Other Elodie wouldn’t actually care if the Cutting Flame’s top champion could best her, and neither do I. I know I can hold my own well enough to make him work for it. “If you’re so desperate, I guess I can spare a few minutes.”
I expect him to bristle, but his grin only widens. “We’ll see who ends up desperate, patatina.”
We take a mat, tap fists, and step apart. I sink deep into myself, willing away the sting that radiates through my palm. All that matters is the faint buzz of ephemera around us and the strength that winds through my muscles.
This Salvatore has no idea just how often I’ve sparred with him in the past three years. I know my Salvatore’s moves almost as well as my own, and from what I’ve seen, they aren’t much different here.
Unfortunately, the heir to the magical mafias seems to have a different kind of “desperate” in mind. We toss a few feints and punches back and forth, aim testing smacks of magical force, and then he launches himself at me.
I throw my arms up against his battering fists, will a shield of magic around my face against his attempt to blind me, and dodge to the side. He veers around my ramming knee and manages to lock his arms around mine from behind.
For just an instant, he leans in so his muscular chest presses hot against my back and his low, suggestive voice slides into my ear. “It’s amazing all the things you can do with your hands without taking off a single piece of clothing. I’ve had girls gasping for more in less time than we’ve been sparring.”
I knew he’d gotten around some before our match sparked, but he never talked like this. How many more hookups has this Salvatore had in his extra three years of freedom?
I snap his hold and duck away, but the familiar mossy, musky scent of him has flooded my lungs. My palm aches harder.
Salvatore loops his arms around my waist and nips my earlobe teasingly. “What does my match want tonight? Fast or slow? Hard or soft?”
As his lips move down my neck and one hand strokes over my breasts, I can’t stop myself from melting into him. My voice comes out breathless. “I thought you promised me the best of everything.”
His chuckle spills hot over the back of my neck. “Greedy tonight, hmmm? Just how I like you, a chroí.”
I push the rush of mingled frustration and desire into my next few strikes. One clocks Salvatore in the ribs hard enough that my knuckles ache too, but he keeps on circling me, his grin never faltering.
A lash of magic I whip toward his ankles fragments with a crackle of his own power. He herds me toward the wall, slamming me back into line with the swing of a fist here and a wallop of magic there.
“I could get that pussy weeping in no time flat,” he murmurs as he closes in on me. “Have you seeing all kinds of stars. ‘MissDevine’ could use a little loosening up, couldn’t she? You wanna be the next notch on my bedpost?”
A flush burns beneath my skin, but it’s more anger and shame than anything else. He couldn’t be making it more obvious that he doesn’t care about me; he’s only trying to provoke me.
“Such a romantic offer,” I shoot back. “How does any girl resist a prince like you?”
“I’ll send you a list of all the ones I’ve wrecked so well they came back begging. You can ask them yourself. Or we can get straight to the fun part.”
His tongue flicks over his lips, and I can almost feel it tracing my mouth.
I arch back on the bed as Salvatore drives into me. He eases up on his pace, gripping my ass to adjust our angle.
His voice is sly but rough with need. “Is this where you feel it so good, mia amata? How about here? Nothing but the best for my woman.”
With each thrust, pleasure spikes through me more sharply. I lose my words to a moan.
A blow I don’t quite block in time rattles my jaw. Clenching my teeth, I push off the wall that’s now just behind me and shove Salvatore away with a flurry of swift punches and a hail of magic.
He laughs and whirls around me again, faster than any man that big and bulky has a right to be. My resilience seemed to bother him when we fought two days ago, but now he’s only amused.
Fuck him. Except not that way.
