The scent of sweat lingered in the air of the dim underground chamber; shadows covered the floor by narrow skylights. A place that swallowed all additional noise, except for the slap of bare feet on stone.
Nikolai tightened the wraps around his fists.
Lunaria stood opposite him in a sleeveless black top, arms loose at her sides, her hair pulled up into a rough knot. She looked focused, calm—until Nikolai's foot swept forward.
She barely sidestepped.
"You're slow today," he muttered.
"I'm still sore."
"Then stop being weak."
Her jab followed the words, aimed at his throat. He caught it—barely—and twisted her wrist until she broke contact, slipping off balance with a grin.
"I thought you were going to lecture me again."
Nikolai wiped his sweat with a smile, watching her stretch her hips, bending down to touch her toes, emphasising her alluring peach.
"Why lecture you for something I cannot change... I'm not stupid."
