Terra

The sweltering heat of the training grounds wrapped around me like a sweaty second skin, the air thick and sharp with the tang of heated rock. The faint clang of distant sparring matches reverberated through the cavern, the rhythmic clash of Drakarn blades an ever-present backdrop to Scalvaris.

Here in the stretch of stone where Darrokar instructed me, it was strangely quiet except for the measured beats of our breathing and the shuffle of movement against rock. The glow of the embedded crystals flickered off his obsidian-black scales, painting him in waves of crimson light.

And of course, he still wasn’t holding back.

His lavaforged blades sliced through the air, their faint inner glow a mesmerizing arc in the dim light. I dodged by a hair’s width, the sharp tug of air against my braid a not-so-gentle reminder of how close he'd come. I pivoted, dropped low, and swung my leg around in a sweep he nimbly avoided by thrusting his wings down, propelling himself into the air.

"You're hesitating," Darrokar chided, his voice a low rumble.

"Maybe because my sparring partner wields giant knives," I shot back, twisting my grip on the staff I’d opted for this match. Admittedly, I was regretting it. His dual blades were practically an extension of his arms, and my weapon felt paltry in comparison.

"You asked for the real thing. I do as my mate commands," he said, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he landed with an impact that made the ground beneath me vibrate. "Now stop thinking and—"

He lunged before finishing the sentence. I spun the staff instinctively, catching the edge of one blade just in time, but the force of the blow rattled me to the bone. He was pushing me harder than usual today, likely sensing my frustration after weeks of matches where I could barely score a glancing blow before he'd pin me unceremoniously to the ground.

Not this time.

I shifted, returning his strength with speed, using the shape of the cavernous space to my advantage. My boots skidded slightly against the smooth stone as I ducked another strike, luring him just close enough to overextend. His scent—smoke and something distinctly his—brushed past my senses despite my focus. It was like trying to ignore a wildfire creeping closer to your skin.

"Terra," his low voice warned as he recovered before I could land a strike. "You’re distracted."

Maybe I was.

It wasn't just the adrenaline of sparring or the sense of danger thickening the air around us; it was him. The quiet intensity in his golden eyes, the power in every deliberately measured strike clashing against the subtle tease of amusement curling in his voice. He was a soldier—a leader—but somehow, even here on the battlefield, he seemed effortless, perfectly in control. It drove me crazy.

“Distracted,” I ground out between clenched teeth, pressing into the next strike, “is the opposite of what I am.”

Electric energy coursed through me, sharpening my focus. Our weapons clashed in a jarring cadence of parry after parry. He pushed, I pushed harder, refusing to back down despite the odds being tipped squarely in his favor. Then it happened—just for a sliver of a second. His right blade shifted higher than it should have, a slight break in his flawless rhythm.

I dove forward before doubt could stop me, feinting left before hooking my staff against his foot and sweeping his leg out. The movement sent him falling heavily onto his back. Without hesitation, I followed through, pinning him down with one knee against his lower abdomen, the staff braced across his chest.

A wild surge of exhilaration flared in me, both from the victory and from the surreal realization that I’d actually managed to take the Warrior Lord of Scalvaris down. My pulse thundered in my ears as I tried to steady my breathing. His golden-slit eyes locked onto mine, an unreadable intensity simmering beneath the surface.

My hands trembled faintly, still braced against the weight of the staff pinning him. I needed to focus on the demands of my body—breathing, balance, restraint—but his expression made that a losing battle. I expected irritation, maybe begrudging respect. Instead, there was the barest hint of something different, something that stole the victory I’d just earned out from under me.

Pride. Admiration. Fire.

His chest rose beneath my weight, dragging air into greatly expanded lungs, the movement steady but charged with tension. The faint glow of the crystals danced across his face, illuminating the lines of strength carved into his features. He didn’t speak, didn't move—not at first. The quiet was oppressive, heavy with the crackling hum of something neither of us seemed to know how to name.

“Got you,” I finally managed, breathless but determined to break the silence. My lips curled faintly in triumph as I leaned more weight into the staff. "I win."

Darrokar’s low laugh rippled through the space between us, and that’s when his eyes changed. The glint of amusement softened, melted, until only molten resolve and blistering heat remained. “Indeed,” he murmured, voice gravelly and low, every syllable rough-edged and deliberate. His claws flexed, but he didn’t move to rise. “Victory suits you. Fiercely.”

His tail shifted faintly along the ground, coiling ever so slightly behind me. Warmth radiated from him in a way I couldn’t blame on the training grounds. This was different, alive.

Without thinking, my fingers shifted slightly, unclenching from the weapon between us as my balance tipped closer. He moved fast—so fast I didn’t see it coming—but it wasn’t to counter or retaliate. A simple flip of his powerful frame left our positions reversed in a blur of heat and smooth scales. I gasped as my back hit the ground, his weight pinning me down just carefully enough, his wings unfurled and shadowing the glowing light above. His claws were braced at either side of my head, his chest so close I could feel the faint vibration of his breath as it left his body.

"Boldness suits you as well," he murmured, softer this time, the words crawling across my skin like a living thing. “But boldness always carries a cost.”

I shivered beneath him. Every crackling nerve in my body seemed content to dissolve into the moment—into him. Every inch of him pressed against me like a dare I couldn't resist.

The unspoken challenge flashed between us in a language that transcended words. I grabbed the straps of his battle gear almost instinctively, any doubt evaporating as I yanked him down closer.

Our lips met in a clash that was fierce and inevitable, the kind of wild collision that ignited instead of quelled. His fang caught the edge of my lower lip, the faint sting battling the pleasure as his hand slid against the curve of my jaw.

His strength enveloped me, all-consuming yet somehow reverent, his wings shifting against the stale cavern air as though something wild within him couldn’t quite remain still. I didn’t know what fueled the fire more—the kiss itself or the overwhelming awareness of him—his scent, his heat, his presence pressed into every molecule around us.

When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested gently against mine. His breath was hot and shallow, his hands trembling faintly before they stilled into the stone beneath us. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Could barely draw air into lungs that now seemed wholly insufficient for the task. The fire we’d ignited wasn’t just physical—it was something bigger, something I couldn’t name but knew I couldn’t outrun.

Darrokar’s gaze found mine again, softer now. “You continue to surprise me, luvae,” he murmured, his voice achingly raw. “And gods help me, I can't wait to see what you do next.”