The atmosphere closed in around Rayne, inducing claustrophobia. Soot and ash clung to her skin. She sipped air in quick breaths. This made her throat raw and her chest burn. Her eyes watered as she focused through the acrid fog.

Nox fared better with a nacre in conditions so similar to his homeworld. The predator’s eyes glinted in the darkness. What did Rayne look like to him? Did he notice the blood dripping from her fingertips? Did he see how hard it was for her to breathe? After her fight in the cafeteria, mixed blood covered her white shirt and gleamed on her throat. Her sword dripped cobalt blood. The blood of his fallen soldiers.

“Is this enough for you?” Nox’s voice resonated like a roll of thunder through the blanket of smoke and flame.

Rayne closed her eyes against him. He knew. He knew how she felt. How he affected her. She opened her eyes and asked with a tremor in her words, “Why did you keep me waiting so long?”

Nox noticed her reaction. She knew it as sure as he enjoyed his influence over her. He said, “You needed time, Rayne.”

He always spoke her name with so much finality, as if he’d waited his entire life to say it.

“I allowed you to gain strength and learn defense. I want to fight a warrior, not a helpless young woman. Now you’ve proven you can handle yourself. Do you think you’re prepared to fight in this war, Rayne? Are you ready to protect your world and your friends?”

Rayne spun the sword, saying, “I dedicated years of my life to fighting you. No eating. No sleeping. No future. Barely seeing my friends. I will not lose to you, Nox. I’m saving the world today, even if it means ending you.”

Nox roared with laughter, and Rayne flinched. Every hair on her body stood on end. A chill shivered down her spine, and a shaky breath passed her lips.

Eyes on him. Don’t lose him in the smoke.

The soot collected on Rayne’s lashes. So dry. So heavy. In one blink, Nox vanished.

“Shit!”

Nox reappeared in front of her. Rayne peered into his eyes, shining like black pools. This close, she recalled those many nights when she’d wanted nothing more than to see him in person. To stand this close to him.

His ringed fist collided with her face, scoring her cheekbone.

Stars burst in Rayne’s eyes, and blood filled her mouth.

Nox wrenched her up high by the collar of her ruined shirt.

Rayne stared down into the face of the Icarus who she loved and hated. Who beat her to death in a hundred dreams. And who unmade her in a hundred others. All along, he manipulated her to his advantage.

Rayne held the real advantage. Xelan told her they needed her alive. She seethed through gritted teeth. “I won’t go with you, Nox.”

He growled in her face, “I will drench these walls with your blood, and take what’s left of you back with me.”

“Only if I’m dead.” She spat blood in his face and kneed him in the crotch.

Rayne thought Nox would drop her. Instead, he took her biceps in a firm grip. She groaned in frustration before asking, “Do you even have anything down there, your highness? Or is it all made of iron?”

Nox’s fingers bruised, and his long nails bit into her skin. Something swam in his eyes. Determination. No matter the cost to Rayne, he would see this through.

He slammed her into the nearest wall of lockers. The combination locks pressed into her back, reverberating through her lungs and kidneys. Rayne’s breath left her in a pained gasp. Least favorite thing. Ever.

Again, Nox gripped her hard, drug her feet, and slammed her into the opposite wall. She cried out. Black blossomed in her vision again, and she lost all her strength. The sword fell to the floor. She sank beside it, painting the lockers with her blood.

Nox loomed over her. “Rayne, where’s that storm you promised me? How will you end me from the floor?” Not a single bead of sweat marred his gray skin, and she hated him for it.

Meanwhile, sweat pooled everywhere imaginable on Rayne’s body as flames licked the surrounding walls. She almost sobbed as Nox unsheathed a gnarly serrated sword. A slow, agonizing reveal. A show for her.

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“Don’t worry, your majesty. I’m just warming up,” Rayne said as she reached for her sword.

Nox kicked it away from her and grabbed her outstretched arm.

Rayne let out a strangled breath.

He wrenched her hand closer to him, balling it into a fist around the wrapped wounds.

“No. No. What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Rayne fought with everything in her. His grip was like a vice.

In that rich baritone, Nox said, “Lover, struggle like in our dreams. Feed that need in me as I feed the one in you.” He kissed one finger, then the next. With morbid fascination, Rayne watched as he cleaved into the bony flesh of her knuckle. The exquisite pain surprised her.

“No!” Rayne wrenched and screamed for her hand back.

Nox asked, “If I offered you a nacre to heal these wounds within seconds, would you take it?”

Even if it could heal the cuts within seconds, the nacre would come with too many strings attached. Rayne swallowed the pain and ground out, “No.”

Fascination gleamed in those obsidian mirrors. Nox asked, “Doesn’t this remind you of our third night together?”

It did, and Rayne hated it. In a breathy voice, she promised, “I’ll make you pay for this.”

“You’re welcome to try.” Nox sliced another clenched knuckle. He repeated this process on the following fingers, slicing down the white joints. She writhed, tugged, and screamed. This was profane. Every. Single. Time.

Tears streamed down Rayne’s cheeks, leaving pale ruts in the soot. Fed up with it, she steadied herself, risked a chance, and kicked his knee.

It bent the wrong way and brought Nox down. He let go of her arm.

On her knees, Rayne grabbed her sword and turned in time to block.

Nox recovered and gave her a devastatingly attractive smirk when his sword struck down on hers. She held him off.

He purred, “Not so wise, my sweet killer.”

At a twinge in her wrapped palm, Rayne cried out, “Fuck!” The sharp edge of her blade bit into her injured hand.

“You’re not thinking quick enough, Celindria,” Nox said with a smile as he pushed his substantial weight against her. He liked to hurt her.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” Rayne gritted her teeth and pushed back, forcing the blade in faster. With a primal cry, she pushed him back enough to stand. Still straining, she feigned a weakness on one side.

Nox took the bait and fell into it.

Seizing the opportunity, Rayne kneed him in the stomach.

He doubled over, choking for air.

She raised her sword to decapitate him, but Nox recovered too quickly.

He clutched her wrists, and Rayne knew by now what she was in for. He enjoyed throwing her into things. With every slam, her lungs and kidneys vibrated, and her breath left her.

“What’s your deal with the lockers? Don’t you have anything new to show me? I’m getting bored.”

Nox’s deep voice went husky with anticipation as he said, “In this, I obey.”

He slammed Rayne one last time and took both her wrists in one hand. He stretched her arms high above her head. Her abused, sore muscles strained. Nox leaned his face into hers. So close that their lips brushed with spearmint on his breath.

Emotional. Turbulence.

Rayne regretted the little thrill of excitement it gave her. She searched his eyes for anything at all resembling the tamer creature from her later dreams.

Nox gazed into hers, and in the black she saw nothing.

Distraction. Rayne needed a distraction. Further down South Hall, she peered through the broken doors.

The sunlight. Where did the light go?! Were they too late? There was darkness inside and out.

Flames kissed the walls and ceiling. Smoke escaped in black plumes.

Nox brought Rayne back to him with a caress. His fingers felt like velvet. He plunged them into her hair and gripped a fistful until her neck arched at a painful angle.

Did she scream? No. Did she whimper? No. After two years of wet dreams and nightmares with the king of an alien race. While remaining practically abstinent in real life. What sound did she make at the first intimate contact with him?

Rayne moaned.

She could never tell her friends about this part of the fight.

Nox’s breath left his lips on a satisfied sigh against her hair. “I’m so pleased you’re coming… around, lover.”

Rayne’s eyes fluttered closed. She tried to squirm, pressed firmly between the lockers and his muscular build. A wall of wood and a hard place? Very hard.

She let out a pathetic cry when Nox’s soft lips brushed her neck. He said, “I’ve not taken Progeny vein in eight thousand years.” The bass timbre of his voice vibrated against her throat.

Almost recovered. Just a little longer. How did she distract him without distracting herself? She strained against the hold on her hair. When her lips brushed his ear, she whispered, “My King.”

Nox snapped to her. Suspicion ladened his voice, “Rayne?”

Why couldn’t he be dumber?

“I’m prepared to negotiate terms.” She leaned back against his hand, letting him cradle her nape.

Nox laughed, a full, throaty sound. A genuine one. It suited him. He said, “You’re not exactly in a position for negotiation.” Something passed over his humorous expression. He leaned in close again, his lips over hers. “However, I will grant a few amenities to you and one other you choose in return for a willing surrender.”

Rayne both wanted and really didn’t want him to kiss her. Every fiber of her being yearned for both.

Nox trailed his free hand lightly along her neck to her collarbone. Staring into Rayne’s eyes, he admitted, “I am a generous King.”

Ready to go.

His holding her entire weight at her wrists afforded her an advantage. Rayne tucked her knees to her chest and kicked Nox in the diaphragm. He growled, “Snake!” and tossed her closer to the flames.

Rayne tumbled in the hot debris. After two rolls, she leveraged enough momentum to spring into a cartwheel and right herself. Before her heart took a beat, she started a flat sprint.

Nox straightened and waited for her.

She jumped and kicked one foot off the locker to gain some height. Rayne wrapped her legs around his neck and swung them both to the ground. The takedown. Straddling Nox’s neck, she boxed his ears for good measure, and hoped they rang like hell.

Rayne wrenched back for a good right hook to his jaw. Her knuckles were sore from their wounds.

Too late.

Nox caught her fist and ground his thumb into the pulpy injury of her palm.

She shrieked, “Damn it!”

His expression betrayed no pain or fear. In fact, his eyes sparkled in the depths of those abyssal pools. Was he toying with her? Nox bucked Rayne to the side.

“My turn?”