Her free hand grabbed my collar. Pulled me down. Her legs wrapped around my waist.
We rolled. She ended up on top. Straddling me. Her thighs clamping against my hips.
"Now you yield."
"Not how this works."
I bridged. Threw her off balance. Reversed our positions.
Now I was on top. Her wrists pinned above her head. My body pressed against hers.
Our faces were inches apart. Her breathing was heavy. Her eyes were dark.
"Yield," I repeated.
"One condition."
"Not how yields work."
"It's how mine works." She lifted her head. Brought her lips close to my ear. "Kiss me."
The request hit like a punch.
"Here? Now? With three assessors watching?"
"They can look away."
"Reyna."
"Kiss me or I don't yield."
I looked at her. Searched for the joke. Found nothing but sincerity.
"Why?"
"Because I want to know." Her voice dropped. Vulnerable in a way I'd never heard from her. "I want to know if what I felt at the tournament was real. Or if I imagined it."
