Page 349

"Again."

I lower the cup. "I thought I won."

"You did." No hesitation. Interesting. Rhyven steps back onto the mat. "Do it again."

Oh.

Fuck.

I stare. "You're asking me to put you on your ass twice?"

"I'm asking you to prove it wasn't luck."

"Your ego is injured."

"No."

"It absolutely is."

"Then this should be easy." Damn him.

I set the cup down. Walk back. "Fine." His eyes follow me. Different now. Not dramatically. Enough.

I take position. "So what happens when I win again?"

"You won't."

"Scared, Chief?"

His mouth curves. "Try me." Gods.

We fight again. And again. And again. Five minutes becomes fifteen. Neither mentions it. Dax and Soren finish before we do. I barely notice them leave. They barely notice us. Good.

Rhyven wins the next round. I win the one after that. Not cleanly. Still counts. He gets me down twice. I nearly dislocate his thumb once. He calls it rude. I call it survival. He approves.

And something changes. Not between us. Maybe inside the training itself. Rhyven stops anticipating me perfectly. Because I'm changing. Improvising. Using distraction. Using his expectations. Sometimes—using him. And he knows.

Eventually, I end up on the floor again. This time because I genuinely lose. Rhyven stands above me.

Breathing hard. Sweat darkening the collar of his shirt. Hair completely ruined. Tattooed arms flexed at his sides. Gold eyes bright. This man is a problem. A catastrophic one.

He offers his hand. I take it. He pulls me up. Too easily. I stumble slightly into him. His other hand catches my elbow. Again. Always. I straighten. Neither moves immediately. Then— "Better."

I blink. "Better?"

He releases me. "Yes."

"I put you on your ass. Twice."

"Exactly. You used distraction."

I fold my arms. "Effective."

"Changed leverage when strength failed."

"Also effective."

"Attacked the opening before I recovered."