The mat was silent, except for the muffled sound of the falls and the brushing of the boots against the floor. You gasped, your body sweaty, while staring at Xaden. He didn't look tired - he never did. The dark eyes evaluated your every move as if they read your mind even before you attacked.

"Are you going to give up so fast?" - he provoked, the corner of his mouth pulling in a dangerous half smile.

"I won't give you that taste." - you countered, advancing with a direct punch.

He turned away easily, his hand closing on his wrist, turning his body and throwing you against the mat firmly. The impact took your air, but before you could react, it was on top, its weight holding you there, your eyes glued to yours.

"You hesitate too much," - he said low, his warm breath brushing his face. - "on the battlefield, it kills you."

"Or maybe I'm just waiting for the right opening," - you whispered, without looking away.

The seconds stretched. The heavy silence. You two sweaty, mixed breaths, he still holding his wrists against the mat. His gaze went down from his eyes to his mouth - fast, but noticeable.

You swallowed dry, your heart hammering.

"Stunks or kisses, Riorson?" - the provocation escaped, full of challenge.

His smile was slow, gloomy.

"Why not both?"