Garen was sweating profusely as he sparred with his opponent, the scorching heat of the summer sun pounding mercilessly on his exposed back. A light sheen of perspiration coated his skin as he moved to intercept his opponent's moves, responding with several swift punches of his own. His opponent stepped back a few steps, raising his arm to block the relentless cascade that was Garen's anger, but the attempts were futile. Garen was pouring every ounce of frustration that he held within, which was not at all fair to the man, but Garen was pissed.

That one fucking mistake continued to haunt him, continued to stalk him in his slumber and leave him hard as a rock, tangled in his bed sheets and frustrated to an almost dangerous degree. Dreams of a phantom woman, a woman whose eyes had mocked him and her skin, the creamy skin of a red-head, stroked his senses in the most sinuous of ways. She felt so real, so vivid in those dreams that when he woke, he swore he could feel the lingering brand that her lips had left upon his own.

The worst part? She was forbidden. Not only a Noxian, she was one of the biggest enemies of Demacia, the home state. Katarina Du Couteau was no fit lover for "The Might of Demacia" no matter how tempting she was. He swore to forget her, to think of what had transpired in Kalamander as a lapse of judgement in the heat of the moment, but the growing hunger of his sexual desires demanded he sate them, and unfortunately for him, his mind was fixated on a woman that was as untouchable as the sun was blinding.

Garen continued to swing at his opponent, his moves getting more aggressive, more vicious. He could feel his opponent shrinking away, admitting defeat and asking to stop. Still he wanted to pound away, rid himself of this damned burning haze that clouded his mind constantly.

"For the love of Demacia Garen, STOP!" Xin Zhao's pleading tone broke through the haze, if only for a moment. Garen stepped back, swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Xin exhaled heavily, running his hand through his hair as he did so. "If I'd have known you were so wound up, I'd have never have agreed to spar with you. The only person who can spar with you in this mood is Jarvan."

Garen knew that. But he didn't want to spar with Jarvan. His best friend could read him as easily as a child's book, he would know almost instantly what was bothering Garen. He would have heard of the scandalous reports that the media had broadcasted from the battlefield, would put two and two together. Garen scoffed silently, recalling the damned report with a piercing clarity.

"Garen Crownguard himself met with the Sinister Blade in battle, fighting from sunrise to sunset. Neither won the exchange, though it appears that Mr Crownguard was breathless for a reason other than exhaustion after meeting Miss Du Couteau."

The idea of The Might of Demacia falling for Katarina Du Couteau had all of Runeterra ablaze with scandalous rumours of what might have transpired on the battlefield. Garen had laughed – all he'd been trying to do was avoid those damn daggers that she insisted on trying to slice through his jugular with. Although, what had happened after the battle...

The memory of vivid green eyes staring into his own. He stepped closer to her. All pretences of battle had faded now; all that was left was the two of them. A smouldering anger burned inside of her eyes, as if she was still trying to stab him now even without her beloved daggers in her hands. There was the barest distance between the two now, if either of them stepped forward, the gap would be closed.

Garen had just had the most intense battle of his life, and when his opponent decided to leave, he decided to follow her. What had transpired after that decision was a chase that led to him cornering her in a small clearing in the dense foliage of the nearby forests of Kalamander. Both were exhausted from the battle, breathing heavily into the silence that had descended once Katarina realised she was trapped.

"I demand that we finish the fight." Garen's voice resounded clearly in the small clearing, sounding frustrated and almost disbelieving. He was riding the highest wave of adrenaline now, and perhaps more than a bit of sexual frustration. A day of fighting with a sexy as sin woman who was clothed in the most revealing of armour could do that to a man.

"Now why on Runeterra would I want to do that hmm?" Katarina smirked, getting a certain delight in toying with Garen. "A girl needs to get her rest you know, although I nearly fell asleep a couple of times when we were fighting. Seriously, can you find something else to say besides "FOR DEMACIA" every couple of seconds?"

Garen stepped forward into the clearing, disregarding her taunt. "I have never backed away nor lost a fight. I will not break that tradition today Noxian, now, fight me."

Katarina laughed, the sound mocking and yet somewhat worried at the same time. She was beginning to slip out of the collected and sarcastic facade that she wore like armour. It wasn't as if she wore much els-NO! Garen shook his head, the movement startling Katarina a little.

"Maybe, the reason why you're so damn jumpy is because you want me even closer."

Her eyes went wide as she sucked in a breath.

"Damn." It was a wondering statement.

And then he pressed his lips to hers and his world as he knew it crumbled around the burning passion that consumed the both of them.