Page 42 of Daring the Drakarn Warrior Lord
I put my whole focus into the fight. A hundred warriors could have run past us, and I wouldn’t have noticed.
It should have made the combat predictable. Boring.
It didn't.
Because this wasn't training. This was real. Stakes that went beyond bruised pride or lessons learned. She was fighting for something that mattered to her in ways I was only beginning to understand.
And I was fighting to stop her from getting hurt.
Her blade found the gap between my scales at my shoulder, not deep enough to cause real damage but enough to sting. I hissed and grabbed for her, but she was already moving, already flowing into her next attack.
She'd studied me. Learned my patterns the same way I'd learned hers. Every weakness I'd shown during our sparring sessions, every tell that preceded my strikes, she'd cataloged and memorized.
My clever, brilliant, absolutely infuriating mate.
I caught her blade between my claws and twisted, trying to disarm her. She let the weapon go rather than fight for it, dropping into a crouch and sweeping my legs with her own.
I went down, more from surprise than actual force, and she was on me before I could recover. Straddling my chest, hands pressed against my shoulders, pinning me with her weight.
Which was laughable. She weighed maybe a third of what I did. I could throw her off without effort.
But I didn't.
I lay there, looking up at her, watching her chest heave with exertion. Blood from the cut above her eyebrow dripped onto my scales. Her hair had come loose from its tie and fell around her face in a wild tangle.
She was beautiful.
Fierce and determined and so completely out of her depth that it made my chest ache.
"Yield," she said.
I laughed. Couldn't help it. The sound erupted from me, genuine and surprised. "You're demanding I yield?"
"Why not? I've got you pinned."
"Luvae, I could remove you from this position in three different ways without even trying."
"But you won't." Her eyes held mine. "Because you don't want to hurt me."
She was right. And she knew it. Was using my own protective instincts against me.
I reached up slowly, giving her time to react, and cupped her face in my palm. My claws were careful against her soft skin."This doesn't change anything. You still can't reach the blood-flame."
"Can't I?" She leaned into my touch, just slightly. Just enough to make my breath catch. "You're not exactly stopping me right now."
"I'm being gentle."
"I know." Something shifted in her expression. Softened. "You're always gentle with me. Even when you shouldn't be."
She was right. I pulled my strikes, redirected instead of crushing, treated her like she was made of glass even when she'd proven again and again that she was stronger than that.
Because I couldn't bear the thought of breaking her.
But in doing so, I'd given her an advantage. Made her believe she could actually win this confrontation through strategy and determination alone.
I sat up, taking her with me. She didn't resist, just adjusted her position until she was sitting in my lap, legs wrapped around my waist. The intimacy of it was jarring given the circumstances.
"You need to yield," I said.
