Chapter Thirteen #2
We collide again, the impact carrying us both this time as I drive him backward, step by step, until his spine hits a weight bench hard enough to send it screeching across the floor. The metal groans, then tips, crashing behind him.
“Oops,” I say sweetly. “That one might have been me.”
“It was,” he agrees calmly. Then his grip shifts, and the change is immediate. His hand slides from my arm to my waist, the contact deliberate, and suddenly I’m too aware of it, too aware of how easily he controls the space between us.
I go to adjust, to drop my weight, but he’s already moved.
Already decided.
The ground disappears under me in one smooth, brutal motion, my body lifting before I can stop it, before I can counter. His strength is absolute, leaving no room for negotiation.
My breath catches, sharp and involuntary, as my balance snaps out from under me, the room tilting as my feet leave the mat.
For a split second, there’s nothing solid except him.
“Oh, fuck!”
His grip tightens, and the world snaps sideways.
My stomach drops as the last point of balance disappears, my body dragged through space before I can catch it, twist out of it, or I can do anything except feel the sudden, brutal shift of control leaving my hands.
For a split second, there’s nothing under my feet.
Nothing solid.
Just motion.
Then… impact.
My back hits hard enough to knock the air from my lungs in a sharp, soundless jolt, the force of it driving straight through bone and muscle, rattling everything loose inside me.
Something gives behind me.
A deep, cracking snap that I feel as much as hear, the surface at my back splitting under the force, the vibration running up my spine as the pillar fractures outward.
Dust bursts around me, filling the air, coating my tongue and throat, and dragging into my lungs as I try to pull in breaths and get nothing but grit, heat, and the aftershock of the hit.
Fragments scrape against my arms, my shoulders, small pieces of debris catching against my skin as they fall, the air turning heavy, choked with concrete and the sharp, dry taste of it.
My vision blurs at the edges for a second, the world snapping in and out of focus as the impact settles into something real, something I can push against.
Pain follows a beat later.
I suck in a breath that burns on the way down, cough it back out through dust, and force my body upright, muscles protesting as they lock back into place.
The pillar behind me is cracked. I can feel it at my back.
Pain flares through my back and shoulder, and through the settling haze, I look at him…
And smile.
“Okay,” I say, pushing off the fractured surface, dust sliding from my arms as I straighten. “That was unnecessary.”
He takes a step toward me, his gaze tracking every movement I make. There’s something darker sitting behind it now. “You were getting comfortable,” he says.
I bare my fangs at him before I can stop them.
His expression shifts instantly, something in him catching on to it like a spark finding fuel. “There she is,” he says, low, almost satisfied.
My pulse spikes.
I don’t answer him and lunge—full vampire speed.
The world blurs as I close the distance, everything narrowing down to him, my body moving faster, stronger, the restraint slipping just enough to let something more dangerous through.
We collide hard enough to take out another piece of equipment, the rack behind him snapping under the force as we crash into it, metal bending, weights clattering to the floor in a violent cascade.
My strike comes fast, aimed for his jaw. He blocks—of course, he blocks—but this time there’s more behind it. More force. More intent.
“Better,” he says, his voice rougher now, less detached as he meets me head-on. “Don’t hold back.”
“Funny,” I shoot back, breaths coming faster now as I drive into him again, my body humming with the shift. “I was about to say the same thing.”
He catches my arm mid-strike, turning it, sending me sideways into another bench that cracks under the impact, wood splintering when I slam into it.
I don’t stay down.
Instead, I roll, immediately coming back up, my lungs pulling in air harder now, faster, my chest rising and falling in sharp contrast to the absolute stillness of him.
“You don’t even breathe,” I snap, circling him, adrenaline humming through my veins. “That’s cheating.”
His head tips slightly, studying me with that maddeningly calm expression. “And yet you’re still standing.”
A grin tugs at my mouth. “You sound disappointed.”
“I’m observant.”
“Same thing.” I launch at him before the last word has fully left my mouth.
We collide hard enough to drive us both into the remaining pillar. The concrete groans, and another crack races through it, dust spilling down around us as the whole structure shudders.
This time, neither of us bounces away. His hand catches my wrist. Mine fists in the front of his shirt. We’re chest to chest, my pulse hammering against a body that refuses to have one.
“You always fight like this?” I growl, my voice lower now, rough around the edges. “Or am I getting special treatment?”
Something shifts behind those red eyes. “I’ve never fought anyone like you.” His eyes meet mine, something brutally honest in them shining back at me.
My heart is racing like a damn hurricane, those fucking goose bumps are blistering all over my skin as fireworks dance through my body at the way he is looking at me right now.
Damn him!
Something comes over me, and I don’t think. I just act. I grab the front of his cut and drag him the last inch, then slam my lips to his like a punch.
Hard.
Angry.
All teeth, frustration, and weeks of pretending neither of us wanted this. He answers it instantly, one hand burying itself in my hair while the other locks around my waist, hauling me tighter against him until the broken pillar digs into both our backs.
The whole damn world narrows to impact.
My tongue slides into his mouth, and I can’t help the moan I let out as I lift my leg to wrap around him. His hand grips my thigh tightly in response, his body grinding into me, hard as stone, as he kisses me back with all of his pent-up energy.
A low growl escapes him, his teeth extending through the bloodlust, and they graze my lips, drawing blood. His hands tighten on me harder, pinning me to the wall, his growls becoming more animalistic as I taste the blood in my mouth through the kiss, and reality begins to crash in.
I shove him back.
He lets me.
We break apart just far enough to breathe, both of us staring for the smallest fraction of a second.
“That…” I grumble, trying to catch my breath, already raising my guard again, “… was definitely cheating. Don’t think you can distract me from the fight, sir!”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “You started it.”
“Prove it.”
He comes at me before the words finish leaving my mouth.
His grip shifts at my side, turning what should have been space into leverage, and I feel the exact second he decides I’ve had enough control of the pace.
My balance goes with it, my body pulled into motion I didn’t choose, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of an easy throw.
I twist mid-movement, catching his shoulder and using his momentum to drag him with me instead of away, and we slam into the edge of a squat rack.
Metal shrieks.
The frame buckles under the impact, bolts tearing loose as the structure tilts sideways and crashes into the floor, weights spilling in a thunder of steel that echoes through the gym.
“Careful,” I mutter, my breath coming quicker now as I push off him, circling just enough to reset my footing. “At this rate, there won’t be anything left to train in.”
“If that’s your concern…” he replies, stepping through the debris like it isn’t even there, “… you’re focusing on the wrong thing.”
“Oh, I’m focused,” I shoot back, but the words come a fraction slower than they should, my attention dragging over him before I can stop it.
His hair is no longer controlled, dark strands fallen loose, roughened by movement and impact, the kind of disarray that looks earned rather than careless.
There’s a faint sheen across his skin, not sweat the way it would be on anyone else, but something close enough to catch the light along the planes of his chest and throat, tracing the lines of muscle in a way that feels… distracting.
Too damn distracting.
He stands in the middle of the wreckage like none of it touches him, like the broken benches and cracked concrete are background noise to whatever he’s focused on next.
Me.
Something tightens low in my stomach, sharp and unwelcome. I force my gaze back to his eyes, locking onto something safer, something that doesn’t pull at me in quite the same way.
“You’re just difficult to ignore.”
His head tilts slightly, and this time it isn’t neutral.
He saw it.
Of course, he did.
His gaze drops, following the exact path mine just took, like he’s retracing it on purpose, like he wants me to know he noticed, and heat crawls up the back of my neck before I can stop it. When his eyes lift back to mine, there’s something there now. Not amusement, but something more aware.
“Am I?” he asks quietly.
I lift my chin slightly, refusing to give him the reaction he’s looking for, even as my pulse kicks harder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
His mouth shifts, just barely, something close to a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, but he doesn’t look away.
The words land differently than they should, but I don’t give myself time to think about it.
I move.
Fast.
Closing the distance again in a blur of motion, my body hits his with enough force to drive him backward another step. My hand catches his shirt this time, gripping hard, using it to anchor myself as I drive a strike toward his side.
He catches my wrist before it lands, but this time he doesn’t immediately turn it. For half a second, he holds it there.
Close.