Page 61 of Warlord's Plaything

He pauses.

Glances over his shoulder.

His smile is slow. Lethal."I already won, Hira. You just haven’t figured it out yet."

The door shuts behind him. The air is still thick, still electric, still fucking suffocating. I stagger back, pressing a hand to my chest, my heart slamming against my ribs like a war drum.

I don’t know who I hate more right now.

Him.

Or myself.

For wanting this war to never fucking end.

21

XYRON

The training pit is silent, save for her breathing.

Low. Controlled. Measured.

But I hear the way it catches when I move.

See the way her fingers twitch around the hilt of her blade.

She’s trying so fucking hard not to react.

But I see it.

I feel it.

She’s still feeling me.

"You’re slow today, little warrior."

Maybe I tired her out last night. The idea makes satisfaction bloom inside me.

Hira’s jaw clenches.

Good.

She’s already losing.

Not just the fight—but herself.

She lashes out, fast, a flash of silver cutting toward my ribs.

I let her get close.

Too close.

Just enough for my breath to drag against her skin.

Just enough for her to remember. Then I catch her wrist, twist, and slam her against the wall.

Her body bows against mine.

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