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“Amagicalwarrior. You don’t know how to wrestle, much less against someone bigger and stronger.”

Alessa smiled. “Butyoudo. You even called it agift.”

“You want to usemytalents against me?”

“No. I want tomagnifythem anddestroyyou.”

He dropped to a crouch and beckoned her forward. “Come and get me.”

Alessa gave an excited hop, then stripped off her gloves and raised her fists.

“Good grief,” he said. “Completely wrong.”

He unwrapped her fingers, positioning her thumb correctly.

The moment stretched as they stood there, face to face, her fists in his, until her entire body seemed to vibrate at some inaudible frequency that she didn’t know if he could sense, too.

“Do you feel anything?” she asked. Someone had to speak. She felt all sorts of things, but most had nothing to do with fighting.

“Maybe?” He appeared so calm, so cool, she could have screamed. “But I don’t know what you’re getting from me.”

Time to channel her pent-up energy for good use. “Let’s find out.” Bracing her feet, she brought her fists up.

Dante swung at half speed.

She blocked it without a thought, reflexes that weren’t her own taking charge of her body.

“Oh, this is fun!” Alessa bared her teeth.

Dante danced back with an exaggerated look of fear. Round and round, they circled. She sized him up with impunity, taking stock of his balance, weight, unprotected parts.

Hopping on the balls of his feet, Dante waited with the patience of someone watching a toddler attempt their first steps. Cocky. Sure of his superiority. Underestimating her. Underestimatinghimself, really. It was his gift, after all.

She darted forward and jabbed him in the gut.

He coughed. “I’m not sure I like this.”

“I do.” She swung again and clipped his side. “Ugh. It’s fading.”

“Not so fun now, huh?”

Her next punch was so weak he caught her fist midair. She grinned. How quickly he forgot.

“Thanks,” she said, and in one fluid motion, twisted free, grasped his wrist, and spun around, wrenching his arm behind him.

Dante dropped to his knees with a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “This isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.” As long as she had regular contact with hisskin, she was skilled, but a minute or two without, and it faded, leaving her woefully outmatched.

Better to win a short fight than lose a long one. Forcing him facedown on the mat, she put one knee on his back and the other on the ground.

“I win!” She raised her arms in triumph and then tumbled forward as he rolled over, throwing her off balance. She landed on top of him, chest to chest, legs tangled.

“Not over yet.” He pinned her arms, avoiding her bare hands, and grinned as she squirmed. The last glimmer of his gift faded to nothing, and she stopped fighting, breathing heavy. Every inhale pressed her chest into his.

She could count his eyelashes, see the flare of awareness as he realized what she already had about their position.

She panicked.