Chapter 3
Reverie
The corridor was quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every footstep sound loud.
I slipped into the deserted classroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click.
Chalk dust hung in the air, catching the moonlight that streamed through the high windows.
I just needed a moment alone—a long breath after everything.
The door creaked again.
I turned, and there he was. Zane. Leaning against the frame like he’d been waiting for me to wander right into his snare. His shirt collar was loose, red hair damp from training, and that smirk—Ancestors help me—was pure trouble.
“This room’s off-limits after curfew,” I said.
“Then it’s a good thing you broke the rules first.”
“I needed space.”
“So did I.” He pushed off the door and started toward me, slow and deliberate.
I stepped back without meaning to, boots scuffing the floor. My spine hit the edge of a desk, and I realized too late he’d maneuvered me there—no hands, just his considerable presence.
He didn’t stop coming until he was close. Too close. One hand braced against the chalkboard behind me, the other planted on the desk beside my hip. I was boxed in before I could think of an exit.
“Zane,” I warned.
“Reverie,” he countered, voice low and steady. “Why do you always say my name like it’s a threat?”
“Because you’re always causing trouble.”
He leaned in, not touching me, but close enough that the heat of him slid over my skin like a dare. His scent—cedar, sweat, leather—filled the air between us.
“And what if,” he murmured, “I like the way you threaten me?”
My pulse quickened. The moonlight outlined his jaw in silver and highlighted the spark in his eyes. I could feel the desk pressing into the backs of my thighs. My hands clenched against the wood, nails digging into the surface.
“You should move,” I whispered.
“Should I?” He tilted his head, just enough that his breath brushed my cheek. “Or do you just want me to?”
I lifted my chin, defiant. “You’re in the way.”
His smile was slow, dangerous. “Exactly where I want to be.”
Then he closed the distance.
It wasn’t rushed. It was inevitable. One sure step, and suddenly his chest pressed against mine, heat radiating through our clothes. His hand slid from the chalkboard to the desk, caging me in completely. My breath caught, and so did his—just for a heartbeat.
“Zane…” I started, but it came out softer than I intended.
“Yeah,” he whispered, and then his mouth was on mine.
The kiss hit like a spark to kindling—sharp, hungry, alive. His hand found the small of my back, pulling me in like he couldn’t stand even an inch between us. My fingers tangled in his shirt, brushing warm skin beneath the loose collar.
The desk creaked under our weight as I tilted my head and deepened the kiss, the clash of tongue and teeth just this side of painful.
Somewhere, dimly, I knew this was reckless; a classroom after curfew, a door that wasn’t locked.
But Zane kissed like consequences didn’t exist—almost like he had an animal inside.
His hand slid up my spine, sending shivers racing across my skin. I arched into him before I could stop myself. When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard, foreheads resting together in the thin strip of moonlight.
“Still think I should move?” He murmured, his voice rough.
I swallowed, pulse hammering. “Ask me again later.”
“Lean back and let me taste you.” Demand strong in his voice, not waiting for my consent as he slowly slid my skirt up to my waist, revealing the sheer black panties I was wearing.
I moaned as he worked them down my legs, then put them in his pocket. “I’ll be keeping these. I’ve decided to start a collection.”
I couldn’t speak as I felt his warm breath on my belly—he licked and kissed his way down to my clit, sucking it into his mouth abruptly. “Fuck.” I breathed, sitting halfway up to watch what he was doing.
He tilted his head sideways as he nipped gently down my slit and gave me a cocky wink right before he plunged two fingers into my pussy, pumping in and out, then began licking my clit with the flat of his tongue.
I felt my orgasm build, and when his fingers repeatedly hit the small bundle of nerves deep inside, I stiffened. “Zane!” I came with his name on my lips, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
He kissed his way up my body, his lips glistening with the evidence of my bliss. “Do you hear that?” Zane whispered in my ear.
“Hear what?” I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through my system.
“You'd better wake up, precious girl.” Zane stroked my cheek with regret.
“What?” I answered in confusion.
“NOW!”
I shot up in bed, the flush of desire still in my system, and my heart pounding a mile a minute.
“Get your lazy asses out of bed and report to the training field. Your performances yesterday left a lot to be desired, and Selene is pissed.” Seamus, the douche, yelled. Beating on all the doors in the hall.
I groaned and rolled over.
Fuck.
That dream had been beyond realistic. I was still pulsing, and my panties were definitely wet with my release. I breathed deeply; my nose filled with our combined scents. I needed that, even if it wasn’t real. I missed each of my guys with a pain that was beyond description.
I took one more moment to bask in the closeness I’d felt with Zane, then heaved myself up, dressed quickly, and headed to breakfast. Today was going to suck, but I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
Hopefully, my day would be filled only with the rigors of training, not torture from Kristine, Selene, or Ubel the bastard. I had serious doubts that I’d be that lucky after I punched one of Kristine’s men, but there was no harm in dreaming.
I went to the dining hall and ate breakfast without any interference, then headed to the field.
As I did a few stretches to loosen up, I was relieved to see that neither Kristine nor her Faction was present at the moment.
Since she wasn’t required to train and didn’t participate in fights, she was rarely here this early, if she ever came at all.
That provided me with some much-needed relief from her bullshit.
I headed to the armory to retrieve the short swords that I had become proficient at fighting with. I was allowed to practice with them and take them into the coliseum, but I had to return them immediately after. There's no way that I would be allowed to carry them on me all the time.
Instructor Razor was handing out weapons, “You had an excellent match yesterday, Hawthorne.”
Apparently, he was promoted after he raised the alarm when Dad and Damien escaped with Nathan… there were no witnesses to say otherwise.
He was one of the few people whom I knew I could trust. “Yes, and most of that is thanks to you.”
Razor handed the large guy in front of me a broadsword, then turned to grab my babies. “I’d love to take all the credit, but you’ve been an excellent student.” He winked, “Your previous instructors must have been very talented.”
I smiled a little sadly. “They were the best.”
“Go through your warm-ups, and I’ll be by soon to help with anything you’re having trouble with.” Razor looked at me in sympathy, then turned to answer a question from another warrior.
I headed to my usual spot to start, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, muscular man stop nearby and begin a warm-up similar to mine. He was wielding a rare stormcutter sword. The only people able to use this specific weapon were those who could control lightning.
I paused, unable to begin my own warm-up, mesmerized by how smoothly each movement flowed into the next.
This man was incredibly talented; his movements were so fluid that it seemed the sword was an extension of his body.
I knew I’d never seen him before, but something about the way he moved felt familiar.
He noticed me watching and smiled, but he didn’t pause in his warm-up. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. His talent was incredible. I hope I never have to face him in the coliseum. I knew I was good, but I wasn’t confident about who would come out on top.
He finished with a flourish, then slipping his sword into the scabbard on his back, he approached, “Hi, beautiful, did you enjoy the performance?”
If he expected me to blush and deny that I was watching, he was going to be disappointed. “I did. You're amazing with that Stormcutter you carry. Are you new here? I’ve never seen you before.”
He flashed me a cocky grin, “I am. I just arrived late last night.” He bowed with a flourish. “Torren at your service.”
I returned his smile. “I’m Reverie.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance… Reverie.” He breathed my name, saying it slowly as though he savored the taste of it rolling off his tongue. He gazed at me for several seconds longer than was appropriate, and I found it hard to look away.
The moment was broken when I heard Razor yelling at a couple of guys practicing near us. “You two are handling those swords like you probably handle your tiny dicks. Inadequately and with zero finesse.”
I grinned, but my attention was drawn back to Torren when he pulled a band from his pocket and swept his shoulder-length blonde hair back out of his face. “Those short swords you use look deadly. Are they the only weapons you use in battle?”
I could only nod because I was momentarily struck dumb at how stunning he was.
The sun shining on his head turned his hair golden, and his hazel eyes were captivating, leaning more toward green than blue.
He had a strong Roman nose that was almost too large, but it added character and kept him from appearing overly feminine.
All of that was complemented by a strong jaw with a cleft in his chin.
Many handsome men were competing for a Faction, but he was far above them in looks and skill. My men were the only ones who could compare, but if the Ancestors were kind, they’d stay far from this place. He would be a member of a powerful Faction within the week, or my name wasn’t Reverie.
Torren winked at me, grinning, clearly pleased by my attention.
This was ridiculous. “Well, I'd better get back to it.” I walked a few feet away to make some room and began my warm-up. I’d been distracted long enough—I had another battle to prepare for.
Torren seemed like a nice guy, but as soon as he found out who I was, he would keep his distance like all the others.
Time to get my head back in the game.
These short swords were fun to fight with, but I’d love to practice refining my fire ability. I knew it wasn’t possible at the moment and that I had to keep it hidden unless absolutely necessary. The only way I’d show my hand was if my life was at stake.
Selene and Ubel knew how powerful my parents were. Still, they didn’t know anything about me, and I wanted to keep it that way, mainly because being away from my Faction hadn’t lessened my abilities.
No one could find out about that.
So far, I had only used common abilities most Aurathions possessed. I made sure even those didn’t seem too powerful. I relied heavily on my physical training in all my matches so far, and luckily, it was enough to get me through.
I heard a sound to my left and saw that Torren had stayed to watch me. I’d blocked out all the noise around me and hadn’t noticed that he was still there. He watched me with a critical eye, but I managed to ignore his presence long enough to finish strong.
“You’re good. But if you’re interested, I think there are a few things I could help you with that would make you even better.” He cocked his head to the side and waited for my answer.
I knew I’d better warn him about Selene and Ubel. I didn’t want to be the cause of anyone losing their position or even their life because of me.
“That would be great, but I’m sort of persona non grata around here.” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly, “You don’t want to draw the attention of the Brummond or Selene. Helping me in any way will definitely do that.”
Torren stared at me for so long that it began to feel like a weight, pressing against my skin. “I’ll take my chances.” He turned and walked away.
Well then. I guess that settled that.