Page 35

35

SEREN

T he private arena is nothing like the grand battle pits of the city, but it feels just as suffocating. It’s just them with no other witnesses to this challenge.

High stone walls curve around us, torches mounted at intervals, their glow flickering against the polished black floor. This space was carved for one thing, combat. No audience. No distractions. Just warriors and the fight between them.

Xirath stands across from me, broad shoulders set, golden eyes unreadable.

His tail coils slightly, the ridged muscles shifting beneath his scaled skin, a sign of his barely leashed patience.

I roll my shoulders, flexing my fingers around the twin daggers I’d grabbed before leaving my chambers.

He has no weapon.

He doesn’t need one.

"Last chance," he murmurs, voice like dark silk. "Walk away, little mouse."

My lips curl into something close to a snarl.

"Make me."

He moves before I can breathe.

A blur of speed, a shadow streaking across the arena.

I barely lift my daggers in time to block the strike, his clawed hand colliding with the crossed blades, the force of it rattling through my bones.

My feet skid across the stone.

The impact jolts, but I recover quickly, twisting into a counterstrike. My dagger slashes for his ribs, but he dodges, moving with that unnatural, inhuman grace.

Then he’s behind me, faster than thought, a solid presence pressing into my back.

“Sloppy,” he murmurs against my ear.

I snarl and drive my elbow back, but he’s already moving again, stepping away before I can land a blow.

Heat rushes through my veins.

This is not training.

This is not some lesson in restraint.

I want to hurt him.

He let them speak about me like I was nothing. He let them call me his mistake.

The anger fuels me, sharpens my strikes. I lunge, sweeping low, aiming to cut across his thigh.

He catches my wrist mid-strike.

The world tilts as he spins me, forcing me off balance.

My back hits the stone floor with a sharp smack, but I don’t stay down.

I roll, kicking up, slashing again.

He blocks. Our arms lock.

Our faces inches apart. And everything shifts.

The fury remains, but it is tangled with something darker.

Something more dangerous.

My breath hitches, chest rising and falling too fast as his golden gaze burns into mine.

This close, I can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of restraint behind his eyes.

His claws flex against my skin, the grip tight, but not painful.

We are both breathing too hard.

We are both holding too much back.

His head dips slightly, golden eyes locked onto my lips.

The tension shatters.

I slam my mouth against his, all teeth and fire, and he responds instantly.

It is not a kiss.

It is a battle.

A claiming.

Our bodies collide, my back pressed into the stone, his weight bracing above me.

Claws graze my hips, pressing just enough to send a shiver through my body.

I arch against him, refusing to be still, refusing to simply take.

His growl vibrates through me.

I flip us.

A surge of movement, a twist of limbs, and I am straddling him, knees locked against his sides.

His laughter is low, rough.

"Bold," he murmurs, voice thick.

I press my dagger against his throat, the blade teasing against his skin.

His chest rises beneath me, golden eyes watching me like I am the only thing in this world.

"Still think I should walk away?" My voice is a whisper, breathless and unsteady.

His claws trail up my thighs, a slow, deliberate touch.

His gaze drops to my lips again.

His answer is in the way he shifts beneath me, the way his tail coils, tightening around my ankle.

I lean down, ready to close the distance again.

But a voice shatters the moment.

“Xirath?”

The single word freezes everything.

I jerk upright, heart pounding.

Xirath goes still beneath me.

Footsteps approach, slow and deliberate.

I turn my head.

A naga female stands in the entrance of the arena, her long, iridescent green tail shifting behind her.

She is stunning.

Dark hair cascading over her shoulders, noble robes too fine for a mere visitor.

She belongs here.

My stomach clenches.

Xirath doesn’t look at me as he gently shifts me off him, standing in one smooth motion.

I sit there, still catching my breath, still burning from his touch, as he steps toward her.

The female’s gaze flicks to me, her expression unreadable before she turns back to him.

"You're early," Xirath says, voice steady, unreadable.

She smiles.

"I couldn’t wait to see you."

Something in me snaps.

I push to my feet, fists clenched at my sides.

He does not look back at me.

He does not acknowledge what just happened.

The kiss still lingers on my lips, but this moment is already slipping away.

Maybe that’s for the best.