Chapter 33 Trew
TREW
Ibarely noticed everyone else leaving the room and shutting the door behind them, because I was too focused on the way Isi’s gaze locked on mine like the rest of the world didn’t matter. She was pushing me harder than anyone else ever had.
“Afraid to get too close?” she asked, her voice alive with challenge.
Fates, if only she knew how close I already was.
“Afraid?” I dropped my voice until it was almost a growl. “No. Distracted? Definitely.”
Her grin flashed, and she came at me again. The world narrowed to the rhythm of our strikes and the steady pull of her focus locked on mine.
I didn’t give her the full measure of my strength. I wanted to see everything she could do. I wanted to feel her thinking, adapting, pushing me as much as I was pushing her.
And I wanted to prolong this as long as I could.
Her latest strike caught the edge of my forearm, the sting barely registering before I trapped her wrist and drove her back two steps. She went with the move, twisting in my grip to break free, and this brought her so close her braid brushed my chest.
I caught the blaze of defiance in her eyes as she pivoted, her weight already shifting for her next attack. I’d fought soldiers with decades of training who’d never adapted this fast.
When she aimed a kick toward my knee, I stepped into it, narrowing the space and catching her ankle before it could land. Her balance wavered for half a breath, long enough for me to let my hand slide from her calf up to her thigh as I set her foot down.
“Still holding back.” Her voice came out steady despite the flush creeping up her neck.
I smirked. “And you’re still prolonging the inevitable.”
Her next strike came fast, her palm toward my ribs. I blocked, but she hooked my wrist, spun, and used my momentum to try and take me over her hip. I let her get halfway there before twisting my weight and reversing the motion, bringing us chest-to-chest, her back bowed toward the mat.
Her breathing caught. Mine matched it.
If I dropped her now, I could win in seconds. If I didn’t, I could keep this up longer. Feel her moving under my hands. Watch the way her eyes tracked every inch of me like she was memorizing my shape for later.
She broke my grip with a sharp twist, ducking under my arm and pivoting to strike at my back. I turned in time to catch it, the impact reverberating through my forearm.
“Better,” I said.
She was brilliant. Calculated. Daring.
She smirked, the kind of expression that promised trouble. “I’m just getting started.”
So was I.
Every time she came in close, our breaths mingled before we broke apart again.
I caught her by the waist mid-pivot and lifted her off balance enough to set her back two steps. Her palm hit my side in return, hard enough to make my heartbeat jump.
She’d barely touched me, and I was already unmade. If this was war, I’d surrender without terms.
The air in the room had changed. I could feel it in my bones, that shift from sparring to something else, a feeling that lived in the space between a held breath and a touch you shouldn’t want but couldn’t hold back.
She came at me hard, a fast, high strike followed by a low kick aimed at my thigh. I blocked both, twisting to catch her arm and pull her in until our chests pressed together.
She broke the hold, spinning away with a flash of her braid. I followed, narrowing the gap again. When she tried to feint left, I was already there, blocking and shoving her back, testing her balance.
“Still pretending you won’t lose to me, Minx?” I asked.
I adored the wickedness of her smile. “Not even close.”
I pressed harder to see how long she’d keep pace. Her breathing came faster now, and the soft squeak of her boots marked every pivot, every dodge, and every clash.
I stepped in for another strike, but she was already moving, reading me before I’d even committed to it.
And I realized I could fight her all damn day.
Her thigh brushed my hip, and I caught the sharp hiss of her breath. I wanted her to do it again. I wanted her to do even more.
“I’m still standing,” she said, breathless. “Are you going easy on me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Never.”
I caught her wrist, my fingers locking, twisting with skill honed from years of combat.
She spun, graceful and fast, and our bodies collided.
Heat flared immediately, pooling in the pit of my belly.
I could almost hear her heartbeat thrumming beneath my palm, loud in the quiet that swallowed the room.
Her eyes caught mine, and defiance flickered there, the spark that dared me to test her limits.
We traded another flurry of strikes. Then she dropped low, and I barely caught the sweep of her leg before I stumbled. My hands flew to her waist, and I pulled her down with me.
We hit the mat, her landing braced above me, her thighs spread on either side of my hips. I splayed my fingers across the curve of her hips.
This wasn’t a sparring match. It was a reckoning. She’d found every weakness I’d hidden and touched it with bare hands.
Her gaze locked on mine, and I found no hesitation, no doubt, only fierce intent that trailed fire down my spine.
She leaned in and claimed my mouth in a kiss carved from all we’d been holding back.
It was a kiss that burned away the fight, the barriers, the careful silence that had stretched between us since the moment we bantered this morning.
Softness collided with urgency, the smooth press of her lips on mine countered by a quick edge of teeth, the stroke of tongue.
I rolled us, pinning her enough that her breath jerked against my chest, though I took care not to press down too hard. I slid my hand from her hip up to cradle her jaw, brushing along the line where her skin met her hair. I eased the other across her nape, angling her head to deepen the kiss.
Her fingers trembled as they cupped my face.
A low growl caught in my throat as the world narrowed until it was just us.
I broke the kiss and rested my forehead against hers. The heat between us remained, a thrumming current that refused to dissipate, tightening in my chest and making my pulse pound loud enough to drown out the echo of the empty training hall.
“You came to my rooms for answers,” I said, my voice low. “Tell me what you need.”
“I…” Her gaze darted away.
It was all I could do not to howl. I wanted her to trust me but trust needed to be earned. I’d just have to work harder.
I got to my feet, offering her my hand with the same certainty I’d held in the fight.
From the rafters above, Gavelle fluttered his wings, still watching.
I locked my eyes on hers. “Trust me.”
“I don’t know if I can.” She rushed to the door then left the training hall, fleeing out into the corridor beyond.
I followed, keeping her in sight.
She only looked back once, and she didn’t go far.
When I reached the main corridor, she was leaning against the wall, one hand braced on the stone, the other twisted into a fist at her side. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.
I didn’t speak. Just stepped close enough for her to feel me. To let her choose.
Her eyes swept over me. “You followed me.”
“I don’t know how not to.”
Something broke inside her, and with a groan, she surged forward, grabbing the front of my tunic, pulling me into another kiss.
It wasn’t soft or pretty, but full of pure, raw need. Her mouth searched mine while she pressed her body flush against me.
We stumbled into the nearest empty room, and I slammed the door shut behind us. Locked it with magic.
I walked us backward until my spine hit the wall. Her hands went to my shoulders, then slid down my arms, gripping tight. I cupped her hips and pulled her in, guiding her flush against my cock. She understood. Fates, she understood. Because she moved with me, pressing in the exact way I craved her.
Clothed, but not untouched.
I dropped my forehead to her shoulder as she rocked her hips, slow at first. Creating enough friction to make me bite back a sound. I couldn’t stop my hands from sliding down over the curves I’d been aching to hold for longer than I wanted to admit.
“Isi.” Her name was a confession against her skin.
“Trew. I need…”
“Take it. It’s yours.”
She blinked up at me a moment before finding a rhythm that drove me mad, rolling her hips into mine as her breath snagged and caught. I gripped her waist, guiding, matching each thrust, my body on fire, my cock surging against the front of my pants.
We moved together, frantic, grinding through every barrier we still hadn’t broken with words.
I slid my hand under her tunic, finding her breast and rolling her nipple. She tipped her head back, her moan ripping out.
We chased the fire, the last strike in a duel we both wanted to lose.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered against my throat, her voice wrecked. “I’m afraid of wanting this more than anything else.”
I slid my hand up her spine to cup the back of her neck and hold her there.
Her thighs clenched.
My cock stiffened.
Pleasure built, a wave cresting much too fast to slow. My voice broke on her name, and she gasped against my jaw. And then we were both shaking, clinging, grinding through the rush of it, our bodies tense and trembling until the heat melted into stillness.
We stayed like that, pressed together, breathing hard.
Her fingers stroked my skin above my tunic.
I kept my hand tangled in her hair.
We stared at each other in the shared hush of something neither of us could take back.