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When that wasn’t enough, he pressed his thumb against the sweetest little spot on earth. She was so small, so tight, he knew he was nearly too big for her. Perhaps that should have made him take care, but she was strong and she could take anything he meted out. So he meted out a lot, hitting her hard and fast. The kiss never ended, never slowed, and he loved that they tasted of each other’s passion.

One of her hands lifted, those nails next digging into his scalp. “Strider,” she gasped, pulling from his lips. “Yes. Yes.”

Such a sweet benediction. His muscles quivered with the depths of his need. His bones ached. Had to…needed…would…damn it! He’d held his release back for so long, he couldn’t quite breech the resistant wall he’d erected.

He hammered at her, hips pistoning, and when that didn’t work, he dropped to his side, the ice barely noticeable, taking her with him, moving her top leg over his and spreading her as wide as he could.

Harder…harder still…but release continued to elude him. He was becoming desperate, sweating so much the ice melted and pooled beneath him. His fingers dug into Kaia’s hip with such might he knew bruises would form by morning.

She moaned and groaned and whimpered. And when she cried, “I love you,” as she broke apart, shattering, her inner muscles clenching at him, he realized that was exactly what he’d been waiting for, what he’d needed. Her declaration.

He, too, broke, her body practically ripping the seed out of him, the hot jets shooting inside her. Bright lights winked behind his eyelids, his roar echoing through the night.

When he’d emptied himself out long moments later, he collapsed beside her. She was shaking. Not from cold, but from exertion. He was too weak to smile and bang his chest with the force of his pride. His woman—his wife—was pleased.

“Did you mean it?” he managed to ask, sleep tugging at him as surely as she had.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.” Her voice was delicate, exhausted.

“About damn time.”

“Oh, just shut up and afterglow with me.”

Okay, so he wasn’t too weak to smile after all. “You gonna sleep? For real?”

“Try and stop me.” She yawned and burrowed her head into the hollow of his neck.

“You trust me to protect you?”

Several minutes dragged by in silence.

“Kaia?”

“What?” she murmured sleepily.

“Do you. Trust me. To protect you?”

“Of course,” she said. Her eyes were closed and within minutes, she was sagged against him, completely lost to the sweet kiss of slumber.

Of course, she’d said. As if she hadn’t made him sweat about the answer. He dredged up the strength to carry her back to the tent, where he held her tight, all night, swearing to the gods he would never let go.

KAIA WAS STILL REELING over Strider’s absolute possession of her body two days later when they reached her sisters. They had their heads bent over their weapons, sharpening the tips and preparing for the third competition.

She and Strider hadn’t made love again and they hadn’t discussed their feelings for each other. A courtesy on his part, she knew. She had to remain focused, her eye on the prize. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to kidnap and torture Juliette for information about the Paring Rod. Which, Strider had told her, was apparently all too real and not the fake they’d been hoping for.

And there was no time to do so now, either. The journey from Alaska to Rome had eaten up her chance. While Juliette was now within her reach, the game would be starting in half an hour.

Bianka noticed Kaia when she glanced up to find her polishing stone. “Kye!” Grinning, she jumped to her feet, her weapon clattering to the floor next to her bucket of water. She rushed over and gathered Kaia in a welcome embrace. “I almost killed Strider when he refused to let me see you, but I knew you’d disapprove if he got so much as a scratch.” A long-suffering sigh. “Thankfully, he’s been texting me daily reports, so I knew you were on the mend. But seeing you…”

Hot tears stung her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I needed to see you, too.” She knew Strider hadn’t told her sisters about the fire thing, and neither had their men, who’d witnessed the aftereffects. Not that Strider had explained things to them.

He’d left the decision up to her.

To tell, or not to tell? If she did, her sisters wouldn’t want her to fight. Like they do anyway? She ignored the harsh inner voice. Their reluctance would be wise. She may or may not be able to start another fire. If the Harpies pissed her off, yeah, she probably would. Like the Hunters, they would die. And that was fine, expected even. Using your abilities was encouraged during these kinds of competitions, every advantage exploited.

But if she lost control, would she harm her family, too?

She wished she had time to practice, to test the limits of her Phoenix side. Was strong emotion the trigger? Or would simply thinking about the flames work? Even now, the heat coiled through her veins, at the ready.