Kiss my ass.

—Isla Melgren's personal addendum to the Book of Brennan

I was so completely screwed.

Xaden stepped forward dressed in midnight fighting leathers and a tight-fitted short-sleeve shirt that only seemed to make the shimmering, dark rebellion relics on his skin seem like an even bigger warning, which I knew was ridiculous but somehow true.

My heartbeat kicked up to a full gallop, as if my body knew the truth my mind hadn't quite accepted yet. I was about to have my ass kicked or worse. Damn. And I was doing so well.

If I knew I had to fight Xaden, I definitely would have taken a page out of Violet's book - literally from her Book of Poisons - and given him peels of the walwyn fruit so that he wouldn't be able to walk in a straight line.

"You are all in for a treat," Professor Emetterio said, clapping his hands. "Xaden's one of the best fighters we have. Watch and learn."

"Of course, you are," I muttered, my stomach twisting. The treat would be for everyone but me. Great.

A corner of Xaden's mouth rose in a smirk, and the gold flecks in his eyes seemed to dance.

The sadistic ass was enjoying this.

"A little out of her league, don't you think?" Dain argued from the side of the mat, tension radiating from every word.

"Relax, Aetos." Xaden looked over my shoulder, his gaze hardening toward where I knew Dain was standing, where he always stood when either Violet or I were on the mat. The look Xaden gave him made me realize he had been taking it easy on me in the glaring department. "Your little girlfriend will be in one piece when I'm finished teaching her."

"I'm not his girlfriend," I glared at him which I doubted was very threatening considering the fact that he was standing so close to me that I had to bend my neck back to look in his eyes.

"I hardly think it's fair-" Dain's voice rose.

"No one asked you to think, squad leader," Xaden fired back as he moved to the side, discarding every weapon on his body - and there were a lot of them - and handing them to Imogen.

"You don't think you'll need those?" I asked, palming my own blades.

"Nope. Not when you brought enough for the both of us."

Arrogant prick.

A wicked smile curved his mouth as he stretched out his hand and curled his fingers in a come-hither motion.

"Let's go."

My heart beat fast as I took a fighting stance and waited for him to strike. This mat was only twenty feet in either direction, and yet my entire world narrowed to its confines and the danger within. He was not in my squad. He could kill me without punishment.

I flung a dagger straight at his ridiculously well-sculpted chest. He fucking caught it and clucked his tongue.

"Already seen that move."

Holy shit was he fast.

That just meant I had to be faster.

I moved forward in a swipe-and-kick combo Rhiannon taught me. He artfully dodged my blade and then captured my wrist, pulling the dagger out of my grasp and kicking it off the mat.

He yanked on my arm, attempting to move forward but I held firm, my muscles straining.

In one single, swift movement, I twirled, swinging my other arm. He dodged it and I swept my foot, catching him behind the knee and sending him tumbling down.

He didn't release me and I landed on top of him.

The earth spun and I slammed onto my back as he flipped us before I could give him a sharp elbow to his face.

The sudden impact drove the air from my lungs. But he didn't go for the kill. Instead, he dropped the dagger he caught and kicked it off the mat.

He was disarming me just to prove he could.

I didn't need a mirror to know that embarrassment and anger were turning my face the colour of my hair.

"Going for blood today, are we, Firebird?" He whispered and my blood boiled.

"My name is Isla." I seethed.

He lunged for me, and I had the sense to bring my feet up just as he leaped, kicking him square in the stomach. He cursed as he dropped to his knees.

I sprung into a crouch and made to tackle him.

But he had been waiting. He twisted away, catching me by the shoulders, and threw me to the ground.

I knew I had been caught before he even finished slamming me into the floor. He pinned my wrists, his knees digging into my thighs to keep me from getting my legs under him again.

Heat rushed up my neck and flames licked my cheeks as he lowered his face so his lips were only inches away from mine. I could make out every speck of gold in his onyx eyes, every bump and ridge of his scar.

Prick.

His fingers dug painfully into my wrists.

I thrashed, fingers curling, straining to draw blood, but they couldn't reach his hands. The mat was soft and thick enough that I could not get a steady surface to support myself, to flip him.

"Tap out." His face was inches away, and I could feel the breath of every one of his words on my mouth. I took an uneven breath, then another. My very bones trembled with pain.

"Not going to happen."

He smirked and shifted his weight so that he wasn't leaning on me. "Well, then, you better get comfortable. We're going to be here for a while."

I waited a few minutes until his body relaxed, minutely, and my knee went straight into his balls and I flipped us over.

I pressed my forearm to his throat. I knew my mistake the moment we landed.

I took a risk and took my other arm so that I was solely leaning on my legs, putting the faintest pressure on Xaden's neck, and grabbed two daggers from the sheaths around my ribs.

I dug both of them into the sides of his neck, crossing them. Close enough that he would nick himself if he dared to even breathe too heavily.

"I yield."

My face went entirely blank, and I remained in position, breathing heavily as Xaden repeated what he said but louder.

"I yield."

Fucking asshole.

But I got off of him and sheathed my daggers.

And when I went back outside the mat to my friends and they congratulated me on my win, I knew I didn't deserve it.

He fucking let me win.

This continued throughout lunch. Rumors of my win spread like wildfire and people I didn't remember ever seeing before came up to congratulate me or ask how I did it.

And every time my answer was the same, despite it not making any reasonable sense. "He let me win."

"What is it like having General Melgren as a dad?" Ridoc asked.

I almost dropped my books at the question but instead straightened, a fake smile on my face. "It's great! I mean, he is busy pretty often due to his, well, being-a-General, but he never fails to prioritise me."

Liar, liar.

"He sounds like a great dad," Rhiannon commented but her eyebrow was raised as though she didn't believe me.

"He is," My voice sounded monotonous, even to me, as though I was reading a script I had recited a hundred times. "We have family dinners at least once a week and he always lets me beat him when we play chess."

I was only mildly surprised when Xaden called me away from my friends.

"What do you want, Riorson?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Well, Melgren, I want to know why you're telling everyone I let you win."

"Because you did. When I flipped us over, you could have easily flipped us back. You're a lot heavier than me and my position was awful. You let me win, and I'm sure as hell not going to take credit for something I did not earn."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, as though exasperated with me. "I did not let you win. Your knee was still pining my arm down and if I had moved, I risked dislocating my shoulder. And I didn't think a simple sparring worth it."

"Oh." Well, clearly, I had read a lot into that sparring session. It seemed a lot more than just basic fighting to me - as though his aim was to hurt me and not teach.

"Why would I let you win?"

"I don't know!" I threw my hands up. "I don't understand half the things you do."

He nodded. "In any case. The win was yours. Enjoy it."

And my day just got a whole lot fucking better.