Page 69 of Red Dreams

I turn into his palm, pressing a kiss to the calloused skin.

“Yours,” I affirm.

23

KADEN

Teaching my lover to kill feels like foreplay.

Layla positions her body exactly the way I instructed, her feet placed just so on the dewy morning grass and a giant scowl on her face.

“Kaden, I just got my warm home back. I didn't sign up for boot camp the very next morning,” Layla grumbles, blowing a stray blond strand out of her eyes.

The rising sun casts a halo around her delicate features, making her appear both fierce and fragile.

I circle her, my footsteps silent on the damp earth. “Keep your weight centered. Don’t let your guard drop.”

She pivots with me, keeping me in her sights. “I’m not a soldier.”

“No, you’re not.” I step closer, invading her space. “But you are a target. As am I, as is Cassie. We need to be prepared for when they come for her. If they try to take you this time, you’ll be ready. That is, if they can get past me.”

My voice is harsher than I intend, but the thought of Layla facing danger alone again makes my hands clench into fists. I need my Wraithling to be strong. I need her to survive.

I step behind her, my chest nearly brushing her back.

“Widen your stance,” I command, my breath ghosting over her ear. She shivers despite the warmth of a sunrise after a storm.

Layla adjusts her feet, her movements precise yet hesitant. I place my hands on either side of her stomach, guiding her into the proper position. My touch lingers, savoring the way her body molds to mine.

“Good,” I murmur, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. “Now, show me how you'd disarm me.”

Layla mirrors my movements, her supple body whirling. She lunges forward, her fist aimed at my jaw. I catch her wrist easily, pulling her off balance and into my chest. She gasps, her free hand splaying across my chest. We both halt, our breaths mingling. Her pulse beats rapidly beneath my fingertips, the heat of her seeping through my shirt.

My arm snakes around her waist, holding her firmly in place. She struggles for a moment before going still, her breath coming in shallow pants.

“You're not trying hard enough,” I growl, nipping at her lower lip.

I release her abruptly, and she stumbles backward, catching herself at the last second. Layla lifts her head, that adorable scowl returning.

“I am trying! I’ve sat in front of a computer most of my life. This is me trying,” she says with her hands on her hips.

I stalk toward her in two long strides. Layla stands her ground, tilting her chin up. The fire in her eyes makes me harder than I already was. This is the fighter I’m certain lurks beneath her soft exterior. This is the woman I need her to be.

“I want you to survive,” I tell her, capturing her face between my palms, my thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “I will always kill for you, Wraithling. But I need to know you can hold your own, even as I haunt your every step.”

Layla’s expression softens, and she leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed. “Okay. Keep showing me how.”

“Anticipate my movements,” I instruct. “Use my momentum against me.”

Layla nods, her brow furrowed in concentration. I shift my weight forward, and she reacts instantly, twisting to the side. Her elbow jabs into my ribs, and I grunt in approval.

“Good. Again.”

We fall into a lethal dance, strike and counterstrike, advance and retreat. Layla's movements grow more fluid and more confident. She meets my attacks with a relentless determination that makes my blood sing.

I lunge for her, and she ducks, sweeping my legs out from under me. I allow myself to hit the ground hard, the air rushing from my lungs. Before I can roll, Layla is on top of me, straddling my waist. She pins my wrists above my head, her grip surprisingly strong.

“Yield,” she demands, her face inches from mine. Her golden hair falls around us like a curtain.

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