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I freeze.

She doesn’t move either.

Her weight presses into me in all the wrong ways—or all the right ones, depending on how dangerously I’m feeling. The heat of her sinks through the fabric between us, and my body answers before my mind catches up.

“Well, shit,” I breathe. My voice comes out rough. Raw.

Her lips twitch. “I cheated.”

“Good girl,” I say—too low, too soft. The words slip out before I can catch them, landing between us.

Her cheeks go crimson. Heat rises in my own face.

I shift beneath her, heartbeat in my throat. The press of her thighs, the gleam of sweat on her collarbone—it all hits at once, and it hitshard.

Then, realization dawns on her face. She scrambles back, fast, almost clumsy.

The cool air between us stings, sharp.

I push up, grab my sword from the earth with more force than necessary, and try to shake the feeling clinging to my skin.

“Again?” I ask, voice hoarse.

She nods, barely looking up. “Yeah. Okay.”

I roll my shoulders, the blade heavy in my grip. This was supposed to be a spar. Just training. Just survival.

But I can still feel the heat of her hips on mine, the curl of her breath when she thought she’d won.

This was a bad idea.

Areallybad idea.

And gods help me… I want to do it again.

Aria

I’mstillbreathinghardwhen Roan lunges again. Her strikes are fast, sharp as lightning. My arms ache from blocking, but something in me refuses to stop.

The ground is uneven beneath my bare feet, littered with fallen leaves and damp moss. I remember her words—don’t retreat, move sideways—and shift just before her next strike.

“Better,” Roan grunts, sweeping low with her sword.

I sidestep the blade and dart toward her side. The dagger in my hand feels natural now, more extension than object. My instincts buzz with anticipation.

She pivots with me, sword raised. My heart slams against my ribs.

She’s testing me. I can see it in her eyes: a spark of amusement mixed with calculation.

“Cheat,” I whisper to myself.

I pretend to stumble, letting my shoulder drop. Her gaze flickers toward the opening—and I strike. The hilt of my dagger jabs into her ribs. She grunts and staggers back.

“Nice,” she says, breathless. “Mean little trick.”

“Learned from the best,” I tease.

Roan’s grin is sharp. “That you did.”