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One of the guards grabbed my wrist, putting me in direct contact with his skin.

Sucker. Little did he realize I had more than one ability at my disposal.

He dragged my limp carcass out of the ring while the other competitors chortled, dropping me at my brother’s feet.

The torque around my throat heated, and my beautiful magic fell silent once more .

“Runa!” Kronk swept me up in his arms. “I do not understand. Her fingers haven’t turned black. Is it the sun?”

I cracked an eye open. “Boo!”

He flinched, dropping me into the sand once more. Air knocked from my lungs, my rounded ass breaking my fall.

“Rocks for brains,” I cursed and lumbered to my feet, dusting off my hands.

“I’m uncertain whether I want to be your partner after that pitiful display,” Drazen intoned, muscular arms folded over his coarse tunic.

Sadly, it was only the leech who seemed to understand the genius behind my performance.

“What did you get from the guard?” Victor asked.

At the reminder of what I’d extracted when the male seized my wrist, I shivered. That was one trip I refused to take again. “Something about the trial tomorrow involving Carcerem’s challenging landscape.” That, and he found the prancing ponies a turn-on. Gag .

The vampire’s smirk of approval sent a shiver coursing through me. Instead of analyzing my reaction, I decided to simply enjoy the ride. It likely wouldn’t happen again.

The announcer projected his voice, calling out, “Victor Custodis.”

Before entering the ring, the vampire selected a delicate sword.

Something designed more for a petite woman than a warrior.

At the edge of the circle, he stabbed his weapon into the sand.

Then, he removed his course tunic, stripping down to his leggings while the audience’s animated discussion quieted.

With their curious attention on him, Custodis strolled to the middle of the enclosure, indifference in his expression.

Once there, he pressed his palms together, growing quiet.

The rise and fall of his chest shallowed, his breaths slowing.

Unable to resist, I eyed his physique, expecting flaccid muscles on a milk-toast frame.

Instead, muscle I didn’t expect to find in an aristocrat bulged beneath his pale skin.

Long white hair spilled down his back, falling over his wide shoulders.

Sunlight played off his lean torso and defined arms. The vampire’s ridged abs glistened with sweat, his sculpted form warming under the unforgiving sun.

I squirmed, wanting to fan my cheeks—due to the heat, of course.

Slowly, gracefully, he swept an arm out to his side, leaning into the motion, causing firm muscles to flex in his thighs.

The controlled, precise action had me holding my breath.

Then, he echoed the movement on the other side.

By the time he’d repeated his warm-up four more times, I was breathless and near to passing out.

Speed increasing by slow increments, he brought his palms closer. Circling his arms as though he tamed the wind, forcing his unseen prey to submit to his will. Bending and twisting, he moved his body, conjuring some imaginary spirit. The two sparred, Victor defending, then attacking.

Again, his movements quickened when suddenly he flipped, seizing the sword.

My breath caught at the flawless motion, my eyes riveted to his performance.

I’d never seen the like. The competitors before him had offered examples of brute force and violence.

I was accustomed to brute force and violence.

Lived in it. Wielded it. Enjoyed it. In contrast, Victor’s demonstration was all about finesse and artistry.

His movements were that of a skilled dancer.

Blood pounded in my veins, and my mouth went dry. Would he be this disciplined with— everything ?

Weapon in hand, he twirled the slim length as though it were an extension of his lithe body. The metal sang, whistling through the air. My heart sang as well, taking flight.

His dance took on a new, more vigorous cadence. This time, he sliced his invisible partner into precise ribbons. With the deadly sword, he taunted his prey, threatening to end them at any moment. And yet each cut appeared magical, much as I imagined I’d find the vampire’s touch.

Thrusting, plunging, undulating.

Beneath the relentless glare of Carcerem’s sun, it seemed his skin glowed, shimmering with a golden light.

Sweat trickled between my breasts.

His speed increased. Oxygen grew short. My head swam.

Until…

At last, he leaped. Spun. Slammed his blade into the sand. Ending his prey.

Ending me .

I exhaled the breath I held, goosebumps breaking over my flesh. I stared, transfixed, while the vampire remained frozen like some glorious statue of virility.

His performance, unlike my debacle, was… orgasmic.

Applause erupted, waking me from my trance. Boos rang out as well. The women cheered while the men and other competitors scoffed. Some of their insults hit my ears.

“What a pretty boy. What’s he going to do? Bore us to death.”

“Look at me. I’m a dancing princess with a dainty little sword.”

Clearly, they all had sword envy.

There was nothing boring about Custodis’s performance. Nothing at all.