His chest heaves with exertion, but he’s smiling fully in triumph. A rare sight that takes my already-shortened breath away.
My body begs me to retaliate, but my mind has been stunned into stasis.
Chest heaving for an entirely different reason than the sparring, my core is an inferno as he continues to straddle me. His weight presses into my hips intoxicatingly; I shift beneath him as the aching warmth inside me strays lower, grows deeper.Gaze drifting to his lips, I want him to kiss me more than I’ve wanted anything before.
“You’re quick, Miss Hawkins,” he tells me, voice deepening. “But not quick enough.”
It takes me a moment to think of a reply, the heat of him heady in all the places we’re touching, and all the places we’re not…
“You can only claim victory if we’re on equal ground,” I argue, finally finding my voice. “For now, let’s call it a draw.”
He releases my wrists and sits back, though he doesn’t stand up. “Until next time then.”
Free from his hold, I sit up and place my elbows on the floor, bringing myself closer to him.
“Next time, you might find yourself on your back instead.”
We stare at each other long enough for something to shift between us. Raising myself up on my palms, I push back my shoulders so we’re close enough our chests nearly touch. His eyes soften and flick to my lips, his own parting—
“Hawkins, Belzoni, this is a training room not a whore house,” the trainer screeches. “Go cool off.”
Bes shoots to his feet, clearly flustered knowing we had an audience. I stand as well, refusing to be embarrassed by a sparring session, even if there was a little flirting involved. They can think whatever they like about me; I don’t owe any of these people a damn thing.
Wiping the sweat from my brow with the collar of my shirt, I salute the trainer. “As you command.”
She glares at me with unveiled contempt, the bulging vein in the center of her forehead enlarging.Someone’s a jitterbug.
Without acknowledging Bes, I head back in the direction of my room for a much-needed bath.
Maybe I’ll try the cold water this time, I consider, the heat from more than just the sparring lingering in my veins.
After bathing and changing into khaki pants and an olive short-sleeve button-up, I decide to do some reconnaissance around the stronghold. If I’m going to be stuck here until I decide to join the order—which could be tomorrow or never—then I should at least know where things are.
Before I can walk more than a few paces from my room, though, I run into Anders. Seeing him now, I realize I lost him the moment I entered the great hall that first day. Besides fraternizing with Cec, where has he been all this time?
I recall what Cec said, about rumors of him being a spy. I’ll keep a watchful eye on him, but I still think the rumors are unfounded.
He smiles genuinely when he sees me, his dark blonde hair falling across his light blue eyes. “Miss Hawkins, I’m glad our paths crossed.”
I return the smile. “I think you’re the only one in this place who’s glad to see me.”
“Besides Bes and Cec, of course.”
I laugh. “That changes from hour to hour.”
He smiles kindly. “Truthfully, though, I’ve been hoping to run into you.”
I cock my head to the side, waiting for him to continue.
He lowers his voice. “I found something on The Amulet of Amun in the Archives that I think you might find… interesting.”
I bristle. I’ve felt naked without the amulet since being forced to hand it over to Ansaldo earlier this morning. I didn’t even get to ask Ansaldo anything about it at the meeting I called this morning; I was so wrapped up in what I learned about my nonna and my mother that, even when I handed it over to him, I didn’t think to ask about it. Not that Anders would have any idea of my inner turmoil, but it’s a sore spot nonetheless.
“Unfortunately, I’m no longer in possession of it.”
He nods. “I know. Ansaldo brought it to the archivist on duty earlier to lock it up. But I said I thought it should be photographed to capture the unique stone.”
I shrug. “And…”
