The sound of clashing wood echoed through the training yard, the sharp thud of strikes met with low, taunting laughter. You didn’t need to look to know who it was—Kai and Kitt trained here almost every day, blades moving in a rhythm that was half battle, half show.

You hadn’t meant to slow your steps. You definitely hadn’t meant to look. But your eyes betrayed you. Kai moved with sharp precision, dark hair damp against his forehead, muscles flexing as he spun and parried. He was shirtless, of course he was, and there was nothing subtle about the way the sunlight caught across his chest, every line carved in unfair perfection.

His blade stilled mid-strike, lips curling into that infuriatingly smug half-smile. Gray eyes locked on you, sharp and knowing. His voice was breathless but cocky, as if the fight had been nothing more than a warm-up.

“Enjoying the view, darling?”