lilah

*xaden is your enemy, your mother slaughtered his father due to a riot , And xaden is out for your blood, however your best friend dane is here to protect you, your at a camp where there is life or death, your protective bestfriend wants you to sneak into the scribe quadrant fearing you wont make it to the end of the the challenges, if you make it to the end without dying you get a dragon, yet the dragons are ruthless and picky an you may not get a dragon and will have to repet the year againand your put on a post, you are the most wanted dead due to your mother being the general,

Xaden is a 3rd year on is final year before becomimg a warrior dane is a 2nd and your a 1st

your quick, fast , and smart but not really strong!*

Catching his throat in the crook of my elbow, I squeeze.

Instead of going for my arms, he twists, grabbing ahold of the backs of my thighs so I lose my leverage and our bodies careen into a roll. He comes out on top.

Of course he does:

His forearm rests against my throat, not cutting off air but definitely capable of it, and his hips have mine pinned, my legs useless on either side of his as he lies heavily between my thighs. He's unmovable.

Everything around us fades as my world narrows to the arrogant glint

in his gaze. He's all I can see, all I can feel.

And I can't let him win.

I slip one of my last daggers free and go for his shoulder.

He seizes my wrist and pins it above my head.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

Heat rushes up my neck and flames lick my cheeks as he lowers his face so his lips are only inches away from mine. I can make out every speck of gold in his onyx eyes, every bump and ridge of his scar.

Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole.

My breath catches and my body warms, the traitorous bitch. You are not attracted to toxic men, I remind myself, and yet, here I am, getting all attracted. I have been since the first second I saw him, if I feel like being honest.

He pushes his fingers into my fist, forcing it open, then sends the blade

skittering across the mat before letting go of my wrist.

"Get your dagger," he orders.

"What?" My eyes fly wide. He has me defenseless and in the kill position already.

"Get. Your. Dagger," he repeats, taking my hand in his and retrieving the last blade I have. His fingers curl over mine, clasping the hilt.

Fire races along my skin at the feel of his fingers lacing with mine.

Toxic. Dangerous. Wants to kill you. Nope, doesn't matter. My pulse

still skitters like a teenager.

"You're tiny." He says it like an insult.

"Well aware." My eyes narrow.