Page 54 of Thief of Hearts

The referee’s rod hit the ground. “Begin!”

I had expected Zain to wait. I thought he would watch me before he attacked, look for openings, see if I had holes in my defense.

But I was wrong.

He leapt at me, and I was able to move quickly to one side and use his momentum to push him to the ground. I winced when he hit it hard, making an “oof” sound, but I wanted this to be over as quickly as possible. Not only because I worried about what the judges might do, but because I really didn’t want to hurt him, and the longer this went on, the more that became a possibility.

So I followed after him, turning him over and pinning him in place. I sat on his bare chest, my thighs clenched around him, and held down his arms.

And he didn’t resist.

Instead he got that smoldering, sexy look in his eyes that made me want to forget everything and everyone around us and throw myself at him.

“You’re not going to try and get out of my hold?” I asked.

“Why would I try to get away? I’m very happy right where I am. I have imagined this many times since we met.” The referee had started to count and Zain said, “I submit.”

I won.

But I didn’t move. He’d imagined this?

His muscles felt tight and hard and warm against the inside of my legs. I released his arms and sat up, fighting the urge to trace his pectorals with my fingers.

“I submitted,” he reminded me softly.

Our fight was over. That meant I could get up. Move.

But I didn’t want to.

His warm hands made contact with the tops of my thighs and I held in a gasp at the electrical sensation that raced along my skin.

“Unless you want me to take you here on the field in front of the entire nation of Sagaris, you should get up,” he said in a silky tone that made my bones melt.

The only reason I was able to stand was because of my goddess-given gift. Had it not been for that, I wasn’t sure I would have had the strength.

It was time to be completely honest.

I wanted him. Desperately.

More than I had ever wanted anyone else.

Before I had time to ponder this realization, I was called to my next fight.

Still feeling a bit bewildered, I went over to my match. It took me a moment to realize who I was about to fight.

It was one of the Lemnians who had tried to attack me at the inn.

He was a slight man and I intended to make quick work of him. When the referee started the match, I swiftly moved so that I got the Lemnian into a stranglehold with my left arm around his neck, leaving my right free to punch him repeatedly.

I was working out not only the anger I had felt when he’d tried to attack me, but also the frustration I felt over Zain. How could I want someone whose entire life was so antithetical to mine?

Someone I wouldn’t ever see again after the end of the tournament? I was being a fool. I was old enough to know better.

And in the midst of working out my emotions on the Lemnian’s face, I became aware of a sharp, searing pain on my left side.

I looked down in disbelief.

The Lemnian had stabbed me.