Author's POV

Myra woke with a sharp inhale, her face pressed against the heat of Adhvay's chest, his massive arm looped around her neck like she was some delicate creature he needed to cage even in his sleep.

His bicep-solid, heavy, possessive-rested right over her throat, pinning her in place. She tapped his arm rapidly, gasping, nails digging into his skin.

He grunted awake, blinking lazily before lifting his arm off her with an unbothered stretch, as though he hadn't been a second away from choking her out in his sleep. Myra shot him a murderous glare, rubbing her neck.

"Will you please stop crushing me with your huge elephant hands?" Her voice was low, venomous, thoroughly done with him. He didn't even pretend to be sorry.

Instead, that infuriating smirk slid onto his lips, the one that always made her want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

"You're breathless just from my hands?" he drawled, eyes roaming over her flushed face with slow, teasing arrogance. "I wonder what complaints you'll make when you're completely underneath me... taking my full weight."

His voice dropped, dark and shameless. Myra's breath stuttered-definitely not from his chokehold this time.

"And I'll hear every sound you trying to hide."

Myra pushed the blanket off with a dramatic huff and stood up, hands on her waist, chin tilted defiantly.

The morning light hit her at an angle that made her look furious and absurdly adorable.

"I'm stronger than you think," she declared, eyes sparking with that familiar fire. The oversized T-shirt she wore , only made her look more like a small storm pretending to be a hurricane.

Adhvay sat up slowly, watching her with dark intensity that always made her heartbeat trip.

He rose from the bed with quiet, predatory steps and stopped right behind her, his shadow swallowing hers.

"I know exactly how strong you are," he murmured, voice low enough to brush down her spine.

"But don't you think it's been so long since we practiced together.?"

She stiffened, already sensing the challenge hidden beneath his words.

He leaned closer, lips barely grazing her ear as he whispered, "I miss it."

He was right there-too close, too warm, too tempting. His smile was soft but wicked. "Wanna try today?"

Myra narrowed her eyes, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening under his gaze.

"Sure.....If I break your nose," Myra said, "don't cry."

Adhvay grinned, stepping even closer until their breaths tangled. " Even if you break my nose," he whispered, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, "I'll still pin you to the floor and kiss you."

She swallowed hard. "We'll see," she said, voice thick with anticipation-of the fight, and tension. The room felt too small for the heat between them, and the day had barely begun.

______

The training hall echoed with Myra's footsteps as she walked in, fire burning in every line of her body.

Adhvay stood in the center of the mat, skin glistening faintly with sweat like he'd been waiting for her. He lifted his head the moment she entered, the corner of his mouth curling in a slow, arrogant smile that made her fingers itch around the handle of her sword.

"You look angry," he murmured, voice deep, flirty, deliberately provoking.

"Good. I like you more when you're ready to bite."

Her jaw clenched. "You should be scared. I came to knock that confidence out of you."

Instead of stepping back, he moved closer, circling her like a predator that enjoyed being hunted. "Then come try, little storm."

Myra launched first, sword in her hand flashing. He dodged, barely, her strike slicing through the air beside his ribs. She pivoted fast and kicked; he blocked with his forearm, the impact echoing through both of them. His grin widened-she hated how much it affected her.

"You hit like.. you want to kiss me," he teased.

She swung harder this time, fury and heat blending in her veins. "I hit like I want you unconscious."

He caught her mid-strike, twisted, and shoved her back against the nearest pillar. She hissed, lifted her knee, and slammed it into his side.

He staggered one step-but never let go of her wrist. His grip tightened, pulling her even closer until their breaths tangled in the hot space between them.

"You done?" he asked softly, wickedly.

"Let's do hand-to-hand combat, Myra," Adhvay said, voice low, steady.

Myra tilted her head, smirking as she lifted her sword-only to toss it to the floor with a sharp metallic clang.

"Fine," she said, matching his stare with equal fire.

"But don't cry when I break your bones."

His answering laugh was dark and delicious. Without breaking eye contact, he bent down and dropped his sword beside hers.

They stepped toward each other at the same moment, closing the distance with slow, measured steps-like each was waiting to see who would strike first, who would lose control first, who would let desire slip into the fight again. Myra lifted her fists, her stance sharp and grounded.

She yanked her hand free, ducked under his arm, and swept her leg in a fierce arc. He hit the ground-but flipped instantly, grabbing her ankle and dragging her down with him. She landed on top of him for a heartbeat-chest pressed to chest, his hand gripping her thigh to steady her. Heat shot through her spine. She stood up, furious at herself, at him, at the way his touch always set her on fire.

Adhvay rose slowly, eyes dark, amused, hungry. "Your balance breaks only when you fall on me..... Interesting." He laughed, low and sinful.

Then he charged.

She met him halfway; the collision snapped the air . He caught her strike, spun her, pinned her arm behind her back, and pressed her body against his. His breath brushed her neck, sending a shiver through her she could not hide.

"Myra..." he whispered, voice dripping with heat. "Do You feel that fire between us?"

"Let . go," she breathed, furious at the tremor in her voice.

He didn't. His fingers slid from her wrist to her waist, slow, claiming, infuriating.

"You fight me like you hate me," he murmured. "But your body reacts like you want me every time I've been this close."

Her blood roared. She elbowed him, hard, and spun free, panting. "I will break your nose."

He stalked toward her again, eyes burning , possessive, intense, impossible to outrun.

"Do it," he said, voice low. "But I'll pull you back. Again. And again. Until you admit what this really is."

She grabbed his collar instead, yanked him toward her, their faces inches apart. Every breath mingled, every heartbeat collided. "This," she growled, "is me trying to kill you."

He smiled like sin.

"And failing...beautifully."

She swung one last time. He blocked, stepped into her space, and in a single swift movement pinned her to the mat, his body hovering above hers, muscles tense, breath ragged.

"Myra," he whispered against her cheek, voice a dark promise, "one day you'll stop fighting me and start loving me."

Her fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer in sheer defiance and desire. "Don't count on it."

"Oh, I am," he breathed, lips ghosting over her jaw, "and I'll win sweetheart."

Their hearts hammered, anger and heat twisting together until neither could tell where the fight ended and the wanting began.

For a moment, they just stared-Myra glaring up at him with that stubborn spark, Adhvay looking down at her like she was the only danger he'd ever willingly walk into.

His eyes softened, darkened, lingered too long on her lips. That was all the opening she needed.

Before he could blink, Myra cracked her fist right across his nose. The sound echoed through the room. Adhvay's head jerked back, hand flying to his face as a low groan rumbled from his throat.

He blinked hard, stunned. She stood there with a small, smug, absolutely infuriating smile.

"So.... You were saying?" she asked sweetly. He lowered his hand slowly, eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring, a thin line of red touching his upper lip. Then his jaw flexed. A dangerous, delicious smile curved his mouth.

"You hit me," he said quietly, voice dropping to that deep tone that always made her spine tingle.

"I did," she replied, crossing her arms, proud and unrepentant.

He stepped toward her, each stride slow, controlled, predatory. "Myra..." he murmured, looking at her like she had just lit a fire under him. "That was a very bad idea."

"Or a brilliant one," she shot back. He reached her, grabbed her waist, and pulled her flush against him-nose bleeding, eyes burning, smile wicked.

"Congratulations," he whispered, brushing his forehead against hers.

"Now I definitely have to pin your hands above your head and kiss you until you are breathless ."

Her breath hitched, but her smirk didn't falter. "Try it."

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving hers. "Oh, little storm," he growled, "I'm done trying." And that was when the real fight began.

The moment the challenge left his lips, Myra spun away, but Adhvay was faster.

He caught her wrist, twisted, and swept her legs in one clean, practiced motion. She hit the mat with a thud, breath rushing out of her-but before she could recover, he was already on her, one knee beside her hip, one hand pinning both her wrists above her head. His nose was still bleeding slightly, a thin red line trailing down to his lip, making him look even more feral.

Myra glared up at him, breathless, furious, flushed. "Get. Off."

"No," he said simply, his voice low, roughened by adrenaline and that dark thread of desire that lived beneath his anger. She tried to buck him off; he tightened his grip, leaning down until his chest brushed hers, their breaths mingling in hot, uneven bursts.

He whispered, eyes locked onto hers. "Still reckless...... Still mine."

His thumb brushed her pulse-fast, frightened, or excited. "But you forgot something," he murmured.

"What?" she hissed.

His lips ghosted dangerously close to hers. "I know every move your body makes."

She froze-his voice wrapped around her, dark and intoxicating.

"Let me go," she whispered.

He shook his head slowly, deliberately, "Not after you punched me."

"You definitely deserve it."

"Maybe," he agreed, eyes softening for a fraction of a second. "But I'm not done with you." He tightened his hold on her wrists.

"And you're not done fighting me."

Myra's lips curled into a sharp, daring smile.

"Then stop talking ....," she challenged, raising her knee to land another attack.

Adhvay's grin returned instantly-wicked, wild, and all hers.

"With pleasure." He leaned down in one decisive, punishing motion and crashed his lips onto hers.

Her gasp got swallowed instantly.

Desire flared between them, sharp and consuming, the kind of kiss that tasted like a fight they both refused to lose. She struggled against his hold because the kiss hit her like a shock, like she hadn't expected him to cross that line so suddenly.

His mouth moved over hers with a mixture of anger and hunger.

Myra finally tore her hands free, grabbed the back of his neck, and yanked him even closer, kissing him back with equal fury.

Their teeth collided, their breaths clashed, their chests pressed tight together. Every insult, every unspoken desire ignited in that one reckless moment.

When he finally pulled back, they were both panting, lips swollen, hearts racing like they were still mid-combat. Adhvay cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth with a tenderness that didn't match the fire in his eyes.

"I have a suggestion," he murmured, voice low and rough, still breathless from the kiss.

She glared at him, trying and failing to hide her shaking exhale. "What?"

His lips brushed hers again-barely a whisper of a touch.

"Kiss me whenever you're angry."

Myra blinked, stunned.

"Because every time you fight me, every time you try to break my nose, every time you look like you want to kill me... I want this."

He leaned in, grazing her bottom lip with his teeth.

"And if kissing me is the only way you burn off that anger, then I'll gladly let you be furious every day."

Her pulse kicked hard, traitorous.

"Myra," he whispered, voice dropping deeper, "Hit me, punch me, throw me across the room-I don't care. But don't ever deny my love again."

Myra shoved him hard, catching him off guard, and Adhvay hit the floor beside her with a rough thud.

She sat up, with the satisfaction of a queen claiming victory.

"I said I'd break your nose," she declared proudly, pointing at the slight swelling on his face,"and I did. I won. Admit it."

Adhvay lay there for a heartbeat, staring at her like he wants to devour her any second , then he stood up.

He smiled was pure provocation. "Maybe you did," he murmured. "But my target was to make you kiss me... and I won, little storm."

He extended his hand. Myra hesitated only a second before taking it, and he yanked her up with one firm pull that sent her stumbling straight into his chest.

She steadied herself quickly, scowling. "That wasn't our bet."

"Do you really think you win every time because you're stronger than me?"

Adhvay's fingers brushed her waist, slow, deliberate.

"Myra....," he whispered, leaning close enough that his lips grazed her cheek,

"I let you win... because I want you to touch me."

Her pulse stuttered. "That's not true-"

He cut her off with a soft, wicked laugh, his thumb trailing the corner of her mouth. "You think every punch, every shove, every time you get your hands on me is because you outsmarted my moves?"

She swallowed hard, unable to look away from the hunger in his eyes.

"I lose," he murmured, brushing her ear with his breath, "because I want your hands on me. And if letting you win means you'll keep

touching me..."

His fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her a fraction closer.

"...then I'll lose to you every single day."

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