Chapter 50 #2
But focus was difficult when memories of their night together crept in unbidden, vivid enough to make her pulse skip.
The weight of his hands on her hips, holding her firm as he murmured her name in a voice that sent liquid warmth curling low in her stomach.
The rough scrape of his stubble against her throat.
The way he had claimed her in that nest—without hesitation, without gentleness.
Her body remembered him—his shape, his feel, his pulse.
He had made certain of that.
She wasn’t sure anymore if this training could ease her restlessness.
If anything, it amplified the heat.
Her breath came faster, heart pounding beneath her ribs, as though responding to an unseen call. The shift within her was subtle at first—like a flicker of light at the edges of her mind—but it deepened with every passing second, every brush of Alarik’s gaze, every inhale of his scent.
She dropped her stance lower, willing herself to focus on the fight instead of the rising tension humming in her blood. But her limbs felt heavy, uncooperative, as if something deeper—something primal—was dragging her toward him.
“Distracted?” Alarik’s voice cut through the haze, dark and low.
Reiya shot him a glare, defiance sharpening her edges. “You wish.”
Alarik tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth, though his eyes remained watchful. “Prove me wrong, then.”
He lunged for her wrist, and she twisted free, but not before his hand skimmed her skin—a fleeting contact that sent heat rippling up her arm. She exhaled sharply, stumbling as she turned to face him again.
Alarik circled her now, slow and deliberate, his gaze sharp but unreadable. “Your form’s slipping. You’re not focused.”
She knew it, but the words stung anyway.
Reiya forced herself to steady, her muscles coiling with renewed purpose. “I am focused.”
Alarik advanced again, and this time, Reiya struck first. She aimed a jab toward his side, but he deflected it effortlessly, catching her wrist and spinning her off-balance. The air left her lungs in a sharp gasp as she collided with him, his grip firm as his arm looped around her waist.
Her back pressed against his chest, solid and unyielding. The room felt too hot, too close, and her heartbeat roared in her ears.
“Focus,” Alarik murmured near her ear, breath warm against her skin.
Reiya’s pulse skittered—half frustration, half something she refused to name. She struggled to twist free, but his hold only tightened, his strength a reminder of just how easily he could overpower her.
The heat in her blood surged, curling low, insistent. She could feel his body behind her, every breath, every shift of his muscles, and it ignited a hunger she couldn’t suppress. The faintest tremor ran through her limbs, her instincts stirring, clawing its way to the surface.
Her voice was quieter when she spoke this time, laced with defiance she wasn’t sure she could back up. “Let me go.”
Alarik didn’t move, his hand lingering against her hip for a heartbeat too long. “Then make me. The way I taught you: leverage, surprise, and when in doubt, go for the wrist.”
Reiya swallowed hard. Her elbows moved before she could think, driving into his wrist with enough force to make him grunt and loosen his grip. She spun quickly, breathing hard, her body buzzing with tension as she faced him again.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Alarik regarded her, his gaze dark and searching, as if he could see the battle warring beneath her skin. His chest rose and fell with exertion, but his composure remained—steady, unshakable .
But she wasn’t unshakable. She was trembling, her body still attuned to him—every inch of him—as though drawn by some invisible tether.
He tilted his head slightly, a slow, deliberate move that tightened her chest. “Better.”
Reiya didn’t move, couldn’t move. Her breathing was uneven, her pulse racing, and despite her resolve to train, she couldn’t deny what had begun to stir inside her.
It was instinct—a force simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger with every beat of silence, every brush of Alarik’s gaze against hers.
And he was staring.
The gold of his eyes, so often cool and controlled, had deepened. His focus wasn’t on her stance anymore, nor on her form or her footwork. It was on her .
Just then, Reiya saw it clearly: he was distracted, too.
His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, but the tightness in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows, gave him away.
She noticed the way his gaze lingered—on her flushed cheeks, the line of her collarbone where her tunic had slipped slightly, on the rise and fall of her breasts.
His eyes flicked back to hers just as quickly, as if catching himself, but it was too late.
Neither of them broke the moment. The tension coiled tighter, hummed between them, like the stillness before a storm, until it was too much—too heavy.
She moved first. Or maybe he did.
Their mouths collided in a kiss that shattered the thin veneer of control between them. Alarik’s hand slid to the small of her back, then down to her rear and pulled her flush against him. His other hand threaded into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
Reiya melted into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to keep herself steady.
His mouth was demanding, insistent, and the heat that had been simmering in her veins finally roared to life.
She felt claimed again—possessed by the dominance in the way he kissed her, as if he were laying her bare without ever undressing her.
Her body responded without thought, pressing closer, chasing the pull of his heat. She remembered this —the weight of him, the sound of his voice when he broke between kisses, the way he held her as though she were the only thing that mattered.
When they finally broke apart, Reiya’s breaths came quick and shallow, her body still flush with heat. She met Alarik’s gaze, her cheeks burning, but she refused to look away.
“I thought this was a lesson,” she managed to say, though her voice came softer now, threaded with something she couldn’t hide.
“It is,” Alarik murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth with aching gentleness. His gaze lingered on her lips, his voice dropping lower. “And I have more to show you.”
He kissed her deeply, his hands firm at her waist as he lifted her with effortless strength.
Her legs wrapped around his hips, locking tight as he carried her to the wall.
A soft grunt escaped her lips when her back met the cool, unyielding stone, his body pressing flush against hers—hard muscles against soft curves.
“Do you remember the bathhouse?” he rasped against her mouth as he caged her between the wall and his frame.
She arched into him, her arms tightening around his neck. “Vividly.”
His gaze darkened. “Do you know what I wanted to do to you then?”
Her lips curled against his. “Don’t tell me. Show me.”
He spun her in one fluid motion, her chest pressing to the wall as she whimpered. The cool stone grazed her hardened nipples through the fabric, and her head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut.
Alarik dropped to his knees behind her, his hands already tugging at the ties of her pants. Her garments pooled at her feet within moments, leaving her bare. His hands slid along the inside of her thighs, nudging them apart until she stood open for him, fully exposed to his gaze.
She glanced over her shoulder, breath catching at the sight—his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, drinking in the view as if she were something sacred and forbidden all at once.
Whatever he saw had him groaning low in his throat, hands firming at her hips, palming her round cheeks. His mouth pressed to the back of her thigh, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses higher, each one unravelling her inch by inch.
He gave her just enough space to turn around, her back meeting the wall.
Her head dropped forward as his long fingers finally parted her swollen folds, his hot breath teasing against her aching centre.
The first stroke of his tongue was sharp and unrelenting, finding her needy bud with devastating accuracy.
A strangled cry tore from her, body surging toward his mouth, desperate for more.
His hands clamped down on her hips, holding her still as he feasted on her without restraint—tongue flicking and circling, relentless in its pursuit. The delicious drag of his mouth against her had her trembling, her thighs threatening to give out beneath her.
“Alarik.” Her voice broke, her hands splaying uselessly against the wall as he pushed her closer to the edge.
He hummed in response, the vibration sending molten pleasure pooling low in her belly.
His fingers traced along her entrance, slick and eager, teasing but not yet filling.
She whimpered, hips twitching for more friction, but his grip remained unyielding, controlling the pace with maddening precision.
He didn’t pause, didn’t slow. His hand slid forward, and without preamble, two fingers pushed into her.
Reiya’s mouth fell open, a low, long moan escaping her.
Unlike Kaelen’s long, elegant fingers, Alarik’s were thick and blunt.
He stretched her with an ease that sent a shudder rolling through her.
No teasing this time—he thrust deep and unrelenting, curling just right, finding that spot that ripped a sharp, helpless cry from her lips.
Her hips bucked into his mouth, but his iron hold anchored her down.
“Stay still,” he growled between strokes, his fingers quickening inside her, thumb circling her slick, pulsing bud with devastating accuracy.
“Please . . .” The word barely slipped free before the dam broke.
Her release tore through her, sudden and forceful. Her thighs clenched, but he didn’t let up—his tongue and fingers working her through every convulsion until she was trembling, wrecked and overstimulated .