When I'm not trying to keep him from my mind, I yearn for him to really see me. To see me as a woman. To want me even a fraction as much as I want him. And gods, I know it's in him somewhere. I felt it both times we kissed.

There's no lack of attraction between us, but Raith has done a masterful job of building barriers to keep us apart all the same. And maybe I'm hoping if I look good enough tonight, I can break through a few of them.

I know it's foolish. Our lives are on the line every day. I should only care about training and getting stronger. Wasting time on things like sex is just asking to be killed because I'm not ready when the time comes.

But it's not just sex. It's this feeling, too… like he walks around with so much hurt and pain that it's crushing him. And I feel like the only way he'll ever be able to heal is if he lets someone in. And, yeah… maybe I hope that someone is me.

"Your constant wistful thoughts about mating and courtship distract your mind for far longer than a few hours of rutting would. May I offer a suggestion?"

"No."

"My suggestion," Typhon continues anyway. "Is to bare your flesh to him. My history with your kind has shown the effectiveness of this strategy. Male humans seem particularly fascinated with the milk glands. You could consider presenting them. It would be a subtle sign of your interest."

I grin as I finish fixing my hair in the mirror. "Typhon... lifting my tunic and flashing Raith would hardly be subtle."

"Perhaps you would be wise to take my advice. I am centuries old, angry human. I've navigated more relationships than you could even begin to count."

"You mean you've been through more breakups than I can count? If you're as old as you say and still single, then you're the last one I should be taking relationship advice from."

"Damn you."

I laugh aloud, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, Typhon. No offense meant. Well, okay, that's a lie. But I'm sorry if I offended you more than intended."

There's a flicker of amusement through the tether as Typhon watches me from the corner of the room.

As I'm about to leave, I notice something on my desk that wasn't there before. My pulse jumps—my room was locked. But somebody had to get in while I was gone.

The thought makes my skin crawl, but I move to the desk and look at the object.

It's a small, curved dagger with a handle wrapped in red leather. Beside it lies a note in elegant, slanting handwriting:

"For protection. Keep this on you at all times. Bring it tonight and I'll show you how to use it."