Sagan’s pulse threatened to strangle her as if her heart was lodged in her throat. It beat so hard that her wrists ached with it, making her grip on the sword uncertain. She refused to give even a centimeter. The blade of her sword fell solidly between Korac’s axes in a demonstration of strength. No, she wasn’t winning. And the smirk on his alluring lips suggested he knew it. She had to think of something.

“What’s the matter, little butterfly? Are you struggling more than Xelan said that you would?” Korac teased and exerted more pressure against her sword. He said, “All those up close and personal sessions with our wayward brother amounted to a lot of show and little strength.”

Korac gained against her offensive, and with every detail of her life he divulged, Sagan lost the strength to keep Korac down.

“And how steamy some of those sessions were. Did you ever ask him to scorch a blade and sear you with it? You did it enough when you were alone, I suspect you considered it.”

A strained cry escaped Sagan as Korac reached his full height, towering over her. And he continued on with his banter, “But my favorite—oh, yes—my favorite moments were when you thought no one was watching you and Rayne—”

Sagan screamed in Korac’s face. Anger lit her skin on fire. Sick of his mouth and his intrusion on her life, she decided. No way. No way would she make this an easy win for him.

She kicked his ankle, unsteadying him. That wiped the smirk off his face. He stumbled back, lowering the axes.

Sagan seized the fault in his guard and swung for his midsection.

Korac regained his balance sooner than she’d expected and evaded her strike. He used one axe to block her sword and sliced at her with the other.

Sagan spun outward, away from him. She avoided the worst of the blow, but caught the blade in the meat of her shoulder. The wound bled immediately, and she hissed through gritted teeth.

It was Sagan’s turn to step back and regroup. She examined the wound. Small, but deep. Unlike the weaker Icari before Korac, her dream lover would hurt her. When she met his gaze, her eyes burned with rage.

Korac blew Sagan a kiss, and she lunged for him, sword first.

He disappeared before her blow landed. She jumped to the side, fast and agile, and swung a punch into the air in front of her.

Korac materialized, and Sagan’s fist connected with his face. She immediately mourned not stabbing with her sword instead. Hopefully, she’d live to regret it.

He lashed out with an axe, and she fell back onto her ass to avoid it. Rather than take advantage of her current vulnerability, Korac concerned himself with the mark on his jaw. He rubbed it back and forth, checking his reflection in his blade.

Sagan stood slowly and stepped away. Korac’s total disregard unnerved her.

Come on. React.

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The hair on her arms stood on end, and her skin bubbled in gooseflesh. A force emanated from Korac which thickened the air like with Colita. The mark Sagan had given him faded away to her dismay. When his striking, pale gaze returned to her, she watched him assess everything from her height to her muscle mass.

“You don’t have a nacre,” Korac contemplated aloud.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sagan’s skin burned under his scrutiny.

Korac disappeared in response. She whirled around, and his face appeared right in front of her. His expression was filled with bewilderment.

He vanished again.

Sagan scanned the corner of the room near John and Kyle. Korac appeared on the table beside them, perched on a stool.

She shouted, “Look out!”

Busy with their own issues, the guys kept their fight on the perimeter.

Korac paid her team even less regard. He crouched on the stool like a magnificent bird. The confusion on his face vanished, replaced with calculation.

When he disappeared again, Sagan spun almost out of reflex now, and he reappeared before her. Displeased but curious, Korac asked, “How’re you doing that?”

Sagan said, “It would be stupid of me to divulge a tactical advantage.” In all honesty, she thought about where he might go and that’s where he’d be, but she wasn’t about to share the simplicity of it with him. Flushed with pride, she grinned. Her shoulders straightened. She held her sword and her stance with more confidence.

The displeasure melted from Korac’s face. His eyes shone with something that frightened Sagan.

Excitement.

His smirk held a secret, as if only the two of them were in on it. Korac said, “I’m afraid I brought this on myself. No matter.” He dematerialized.

Sagan gawked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t sure what to do when he appeared directly above her, but getting out of the way seemed like a good idea. She darted over, but too late.

Korac cleaved her back open.

Sagan shrieked and sprawled onto the floor.

Korac landed in a three-point stance, saying, “That’s twice now you’ve passed on the opportunity to kill me.”

Like last time, Sagan tried to crawl away without drawing his attention. But unlike last time, Korac utterly fixated on her.

Feeling braver than she ought to, she quipped, “You’re making me regret those little mercies.”

Korac struck with one axe.

Sagan blocked and held back with her sword.

The angle felt all wrong, and judging by the gleam in his eyes, he was toying with her.

Korac struck the linoleum next to her head with his free axe and said, “Don’t forget. I have two.”

Sagan yelped, sure he meant to strike her in the face with it.

He twisted the axe locked with her sword until it bent her arm so painfully she dropped it beside her head. Flushed with triumph, Korac knelt and straddled Sagan’s waist. She feared him, but not because he planned to kill her.

He wanted to take her with him.

She feared herself more because a part of her wanted to go.

Korac leaned closer until Sagan stared into the darker gray flecks in his otherwise colorless eyes. She breathed the peppermint of his breath. He said, “I will convince you to come with me.”

Korac’s voice. The deep timbre, the elegant cadence, and the silken tone of it drove her crazy in her dreams.

In reality?

Sagan’s breath hitched, and her heart pounded against the linoleum beneath her back. She half-lied, “Not willingly. Never.”

“By the time I am done with you here, you will cry my name for every sexual encounter you allowed that prepubescent thug to force on you when you could’ve easily defended yourself.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “Those moments were meant to be mine.”

Hot tears streamed from Sagan’s eyes, down her temples, and into her blood-soaked hairline. She whispered, “I know.”

Korac lifted his hand, a tear delicately balanced there. He brought it to his lips and tasted it. His eyes closed, and the muscles in his neck strained.

The moment Korac let his guard down, Sagan grabbed the sword, and slammed the pommel against the top of his spine with a cry.

He grunted and rolled away from her. She backed farther away from him on the floor. Where she crawled, she trailed a considerable pool of fresh blood.

Korac retrieved the buried axe. Sagan’s eyes grew wide when it lifted a chunk of foundation with the linoleum tiles. He smirked at the shock on her face.

“My name. Three hundred and two times.”