{January 2006}

For over four years, Rayne went to school, helped her mom out at the bookstore, trained with Xelan until midnight, and then died at Nox’s hands in her sleep. She was eighteen going on two hundred, but Rayne barely felt it. She felt like a fighter, like a killer.

Crazy.

That’s how Rayne felt. If she ever told her family, they’d surely lock her up. Sagan was the only person she could turn to, but Sagan was battling her own demons. While Rayne loved Tameka, her most pragmatic friend would tell Rayne to ignore Nox. Simply don’t engage the King of Cinder until he left her alone—improved fighting skills be damned. Or Tameka would tell Rayne all the strange feelings mixed up in the dreams were hormones, and that Rayne should get over her immature notions about virginity. In that same vein, there was no way Rayne was talking to Kyle or Andrew about it.

No.

Rayne was alone in this storm.

She entered the dream dressed in black tactical pants and a black sports bra, this one with extra straps. Black ribbon coiled around her biceps and swirled down her arms to lace around her fingers. Rayne touched her hair and found it pulled back in a fishtail braid from her face. Practical, but cute.

The loose red soil sifted beneath Rayne’s toes. Was it too much to ask for combat boots? Why did Nox never grant her sensible footwear?

“All those nerve endings let you feel the dirt and predict my attacks a mite faster. You need every advantage I’m willing to afford you.”

Finally, an answer.

Like always, Nox addressed Rayne through the black pyre between them. Even with the obstruction, she knew how he’d dressed. The same as every night: black leather pants, no shirt, and no shoes.

A filter still distorted Nox’s face. He’d tied his hair back as if finally acknowledging Rayne as a challenge. It emphasized the impression of a sharp jaw, angular nose, thick brows, and sculpted cheekbones.

Why must Rayne’s tormentor be attractive?

Nox’s carriage was one of self-regard, but not so much to suggest conceit. It was a natural esteem probably born of his station.

But that’s not why Rayne’s thoughts had drifted to Nox lately in a non-fighting sense. Here, in these dreams, she could act however she wanted without fear of his judgment, scolding, or concern. Nox accepted Rayne in the simplest terms. Understood her even. Which was a terrible tactical advantage in a relationship solely based on enmity.

Uncertain when the fight might begin, Rayne walked alongside the blaze, keeping him within her sights. “Did I graduate to actual exercise for you?”

Laughter rumbled from Nox’s chest. The King of Cinder mocked her and paid her a compliment all in the same sound. He sidled along the fire with her in a dance, respecting her as a warrior by maintaining constant eye contact. Silken in that baritone, he said, “You gain skill with every session. Soon, you’ll make a formidable adversary thanks to my private instruction.”

“You mean thanks to Xelan’s nightly training, and my willingness to work my ass off in order to stop your invasion schemes?” Rayne stopped and glared at him, her feet spread shoulder-width apart in her favorite fighting stance.

Through the black fire, Nox shrugged, and it was graceful despite the breadth of his shoulders and the bulk of his chest. The gesture said Nox knew Rayne was lying to herself. Their sessions did make her into a better fighter. He said, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Nox stopped circling and faced Rayne across the pyre. “You’re so eager tonight. Good. We’ll test the limits of your abilities. I will hold back far less than any night before. Are you prepared, Celindria?”

Rayne held up her fists and clenched her jaw. Always with the Celindria. “Oh, I’m ready.”

“Heh.” Nox shook his head, impressed. “All I want is to see that fire in you.”

Fast, so impossibly fast, Nox ran at Rayne from around the pyre. She kept her feet planted, bent her knees, and blocked his first blow aimed for her jaw.

Gritting from the strain, Rayne tried to quip but growled, “I thought you were coming here to snuff me out.” With a cry, she sent a good hook to his ribs.

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Her blow landed with little effect as Nox blocked her next jab and said, “No. I want you accelerated. I want you blazing. A bright white beacon.”

Nox’s words startled Rayne, and she failed to block the roundhouse kick to her temple. Her teeth chattered together, and black blossomed in her vision. There wasn’t time to dwell on the nauseating pain. She recovered well enough to roll away from the next tornado kick.

Rayne used the vantage point to sweep Nox’s feet.

He jumped and saved his first leg, but not the second. The giant King of Cinder fell on his ass resulting in a tiny shockwave of red dust.

Rayne spun her legs onto her feet and stomped her foot in his chest—

Expecting this, Nox clutched her foot, twisted Rayne’s leg into a painful lock that weakened her knee, and set her other foot off balance.

Nothing—not a damned thing—was more terrifying than falling on the ground at Nox’s mercy.

He was on Rayne in a heartbeat, his hands wrapped around her neck. Nox said, “You’re about to die and wake once more in your bed, like all the other nights. But I know you. You’ll return tomorrow, ready to try again. This is the fire I stoke.”

No.

Rayne refused to let Nox win. For once, she’d sleep as a victor. The knowledge of it burned in her.

Calm down.

Don’t let the panic take over.

As darkness edged Rayne’s vision, she squeezed her fists in the dirt and figured it out. With a strangled war cry in Nox’s face, Rayne threw the loose soil in his eyes.

Nox snarled and released her.

Rayne was up on her feet and running to one of the many columns stationed around the room. Higher ground—

No!

These vibrations under her feet could only mean—

“Ugh!”

With a sickening thud, Nox slammed Rayne’s back into a pillar, pinning her wrists over her head using only one hand. By the growl in his voice, Rayne knew she’d disappointed him. “Such underhanded tactics. How like you, Celindria.”

For all that Nox knew Rayne, she often wondered if he knew she was actually a different person from her ancestor. But that was a problem for another time.

Pinned at such a height, Rayne’s toes barely brushed the ground. It was a decent position to land a kick, except Nox had pressed Rayne’s legs against the column with his heavy thighs. There was no maneuverability.

Shit.

Was Rayne really—

“Your opponent bested you.” Nox squeezed his hand over Rayne’s wrists hard enough to make her gasp. Still, his voice was rich as he asked, “Pinned and helpless, with no dirt to save you, what will you do this time?”

A test.

Through the filter, Rayne discerned the basic features of Nox’s face well enough to see a smirk on his lips. Soft and full. A mouth she’d often considered kissing when drifting off in class—

That’s what Rayne did.

Straining against Nox’s anchor on her wrist, Rayne pressed forward and captured his hidden mouth with her own. His lips were as soft as she’d imagined, but short-lived.

Nox pulled away sharply and searched her eyes.

Rayne licked her swelling lips, tasting spearmint and warm spices. Nox watched her do it. She felt his eyes on her mouth, roaming over her shoulders, biceps, breasts, her bare stomach, and hips as if Nox had noticed for the first time that Rayne had grown into a proper female. And this female wanted to know what it would feel like for Nox to kiss back.

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

There was something warring in Nox. It constricted his muscles and wound his entire body with tension.

Was this not happening? Could Rayne survive rejection from the only person in the entire world she’d felt understood even the worst of her?

Rayne’s chest heaved from their fight, flushed all over from exertion and her desire for him. The brief sampling she’d stolen was strong and left her hungry.

More.

Rayne let Nox see it in her eyes, and the King of Cinder’s name left her lips on a breath.

A soft growl rumbled in Nox’s chest. Rayne felt it against her breasts. It was the sound of letting something painful go, and when he finished, he gripped her by the nape and sealed his mouth to hers.

Nox’s kiss seared Rayne.

Soft, starved, and burning—She answered with her own fire and opened her mouth to him on a moan. Nox’s body melted to Rayne’s, and she was suddenly aware of their position. Very aware. The sensation left Rayne curious, and she deepened their kiss.

Another sound echoed in the chamber of Nox’s chest. It was the warmest sound Rayne had ever heard. He loosened his legs from her. Unaware of her own instinctive reactions, Rayne lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips.

They both moaned.

Everything about this felt so good—tasted so good—Rayne wanted more of Nox. Wanted to touch his hair and face, but he still gripped her wrists—

Nox went stiff, and not as in… Well, he was already stiff in that way.

No, his entire body froze, hard against her.

Rayne was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. What went wrong? Was it her? Did she advance too quickly?

On a growl, Nox wrenched Rayne by her wrists in a painful twist and flung her across the room—

Rayne slammed into her bed as if she’d been floating above it. She swore the landing rocked the bed frame and everything. Her heart pounded, and her chest hurt.

“That was intense,” she said into the dark room.

Right.

As if that was the only reason her heart was hurting.

Rayne winced and reached for her notebook. It was best to get this out of her system and pray no one else ever read it. Then it was off to the training grounds because how could she sleep after Nox’s kiss had rocked her foundations?

Especially, after Rayne had initiated it all…

It would be hard facing her friends tomorrow. What would Xelan think?

Oh, no.

What about the inevitable post-kiss interaction with Nox tomorrow night? Would he punish Rayne? Was there no chance for their kiss to mean more? What if it could lead to peace between their planets?

Too many thoughts left Rayne’s handwriting a scribbled mess. Thoughts racing faster than her hand could record them.

Enough.

Tomorrow, Rayne would face her most difficult trial: looking her friends in their faces and lying to them. They could never know that she’d nearly slept with the enemy.

It was time to run.