He reached for the weight, she kicked it out of his way.
She was drenched in sweat and had no idea how long they had left. He was just as soaked and lightning glanced in his eye. There was a trickle of blood down his cheek and Lena’s own knuckles were bruised.
And she’d never felt so alive.
He got in a lucky shot, clipping her chin and sending her sprawling back. Lena missed knocking her head on the weight by an inch, but she rolled into it, grabbing it and using it to add power to her next punch.
Brutal.
Solan went down with a grunt and he didn’t look like he was getting up any time soon, but she wasn’t going to buy that until he was out.
She got on top of him, getting her knees right under his armpits to control his movement and prevent him from bucking her off again. And then she reached for his throat.
Solan stared up at her, defiant. He wasn’t going to tap out.
Her body hummed with energy, tight and ready for anything.
Anything. She was on top of him. She could do whatever she wanted. And she was almost certain he’d reciprocate.
But Lena forced herself to dig her hands in deep. It wasn’t a good choke, but she didn’t want to risk getting close. At the last moment, she remembered the fangs he had hidden in his mouth and she didn’t want to become a vampire’s bride.
Not that he was a vampire, but he had a built-in weapon of his own. And she hadn’t forbidden him from using it.
She didn’t recognize the beep ending their fight at first, but Solan went limp under her. She stood up and offered a hand up.
“I win.”
They both said it.
What was he talking about? Before Lena could open her mouth to ask, he waved the weight in front of her.
“I was about to choke you out,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I wasn’t out yet.” He was grinning and waving the weight from side to side.
The skin of his neck looked a bit gray and Lena worried that she’d done some damage. But he didn’t seem concerned. “I had you,” she insisted. She should have squeezed harder. There was no way he could argue he’d won if he was unconscious when the bell rang.
Who was she kidding? If the shoe was on the other foot she’d argue until she turned blue in the face.
He pulled off his shirt to wipe at his sweat and Lena had to bite her tongue to keep from making an undignified noise. Damn, he looked nice. Rippling muscles. A tattoo running down one arm. More muscles. Shimmering skin that somehow was shimmering even more from the exertion. She wanted to run her tongue all over him and see what he tasted like.
The mat was a bit springy. They could make it work.
But then she caught sight of her hands and shuddered. “I’m going to need some ice.” Already they were swollen and bleeding. She hadn’t held back. If she and Solan went at each other like that often, there would be no need to worry about Apsyns defeating them. They’d defeat each other.
Solan wiped at his brow and then looked at his own bloody knuckles. He looked back up at her, face serious. “We don’t know if the Match is real.” His thumb raked over a knuckle, smearing the blood even further. “We can find out right now.”
Lena looked down at her own hands. The suggestion went against every safety guideline she knew. But blood to blood contact was how to figure out if a Match was true. That much she understood about the process, even if she still had a lot to learn. “What are you waiting for? Let’s do it.” She held out her fist.
Solan hesitated. Lena wished she could read his mind, could figure out what was going on behind those eyes of his. He was so serious, but then he showed her his playful side, and his sexy side, and gave hints of all the sides he was hiding from everyone else. She wanted to know him. And it didn’t have to be romantic. If she was his Match, she’d be his partner. They’d be closer than just about anyone else on the moon and she’d get to know him better than even his own family.
She liked the sound of that.
She didn’t need a boyfriend. But she could use another friend.
And still he hesitated.
Lena was about to reach out and yank his hands