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Silvija exploded forward, seizing the initiative. Her opening jab missed Dante's face by a hair's breadth. He felt the rush of air kiss his cheek, then ducked for a cross that whistled past his ear. She reset instantly and slowly circled him with the cold focus of a predator.
"You're being cautious."
"I have to be with you,"Silvija said with a grin. "Can't let you read me like a book again."
She came at him again. This time, she attempted a low, vicious kick at his knee. He reacted a second late, and the impact struck his shin instead. Most men would've crumpled with the pain. He just gritted his teeth and matched her follow-up kick with his own.
She stepped back with trembling legs. Yet, she didn't even flinch or slow down, still eyeing him like a predator.
A moment later, she pounced back at him, trying to pinpoint his weakness with attacks at different parts of his body. Her combinations flowed like water with no wasted motion. From jabs to spinning to lethal kicks—every strike was meant to set up the next.
Her movements followed no patterns since she was reacting to him rather than following her combat instincts. She came in close, testing his defense with rapid-fire body shots. He caught one of her punches mid-strike, fingers wrapping around her wrist. For a split second, their eyes met, close enough that he could feel her breath.
With a smile, she twisted out of his grip with a wrist lock reversal that would've snapped a normal person's joint. Even so, she had felt the strain, it was reflected in the way her eyes reacted. Even though he was fighting to win, it hurt him to see Silvija being so cruel to herself.
"You could've asked—"
Just then, a low kick struck his knee. He dropped to one leg, and she was already moving—knee driving toward his face. He crossed his arms just in time, and the force still made him slide across the mat on one knee.
"Stop treating me like I'll break," she growled. "Or be prepared to say goodbye to me or your sweethearts."
In their first fight, she had been testing a new hire. Now she was trying to punish a man she loved for his insolence. She was giving him everything to make him hers alone.
'I can't lose this.'
He took a deep breath and got back up. "Alright, I'll stop holding back."
"Good."
This time, when she came in, he met her halfway. His jab was a blur even to himself. She evaded it, but barely. He saw her eyes widen for a fraction of a second at the speed. His follow-up cross forced her to block, driving her half a step back.
Her eyes lit up. She wasn't afraid but excited. "There's the man I love."
She grinned and pounced at him again. Despite her good mood, her strikes were angrier or maybe just more determined to claim him. A flurry of strikes that he had to give ground to avoid. She was pushing the pace, trying to overwhelm him into revealing an opening.
They traded strikes without any of them holding back. The brutal exchange would've normalized him if he had the same physique and techniques as their first spar. But he had grown stronger, not just in body but also in mind. When he warmed up properly, it was easier to track and react to her overwhelming offense.
"You've improved," she panted between strikes. "So much."
"Had a good teacher for a day."
Her answer was a spinning back kick that would have caved in his ribs if he hadn't evaded in time. Her bold move was punishable, but he didn't even try. Her combat intelligence was way too high to repeat the same mistake as their last fight.
The slight raise of her eyebrow was a tell-tale sign of disappointment that he didn't take the bait. "Getting tired?"
"Not even close."
He laughed and closed the distance. She dove for his legs, attempting a takedown. Except her grip was too loose and her strength too low. It was a misdirection, and her real strike was aimed directly at his manhood.
His hand shot out on pure instinct, just barely catching her forearm before the claw burst his nuts. She wasn't holding back in the slightest. That attack would have incapacitated him and burst his dream to ever hold three wonderful women together.
A cold sweat flowed down his forehead. "So ruthless."
Silvija tried to wrench free, but he had her forearm locked in a firm grip. Not giving her time to attempt a counter-attack, he yanked her up and rewarded her with a vicious headbutt from his thick skull. That sent her crashing into the mat.
Before she could recover, he mounted her waist in a hurry. She surprisingly didn't even fight back and let him pin her wrists over her head.
She closed her eyes and laughed. "Why are you so shaken, Lover?"
"You almost took something precious from me."
"Keep the honor for dojo, Lover," she said with a giggle, having a blast despite her defeat. "Love is war, and you ought to throw everything to win. I know you can recover fast."
"I was naive."
"Yet you still won."
"I lost," he whispered, shaking his head. "My heart to you."
She revealed a soft, affectionate look. "I lost the battle but won the war."
Unable to hold himself, he dipped his head and kissed her lips. This time, he savored it. Not the stolen kiss from their first fight, which was earned through trickery. This time, she had thrown dirty and ruthless tricks, and he had beaten her fair and square.
He had earned the right.
Their breaths mingled, hot and ragged from the fight. The kiss deepened, passion igniting despite their exhaustion from the fight. His hand slid beneath her damp tank top, palm gliding over slick skin until his fingers found the curve of her breast through her sports bra. He squeezed gently, feeling her sharp intake of breath against his mouth.
Before he enjoyed the softness, her hand clamped down on his wrist.
She broke the kiss, breathing hard, and pushed him back. Despite her apparent arousal, she glared at him. "Not like this. I'm drenched in sweat."
She tried to rise, but he caught her wrist before she could fully escape. A gentle tug, and she found herself settling sideways onto his lap, back against his chest. His arms circled her waist without asking permission.
She struggled half-heartedly before settling against his chest with her back to him.
Dante rested his chin on her shoulder and just held her. She was small, lean, and deceptively delicate. It was hard to believe this woman was responsible for hundreds of mercenaries' livelihoods, Symkaria's security, and also maintaining political relationships.
"You smell nice."
She went still for a few moments. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible, "When you said 'I love you', did you mean it?"
It felt like she'd been carrying this question on her mind ever since that text.
"Yes," he said firmly. "I can't stop loving this stubborn, fierce woman, who can be so damn gentle with her cheating boyfriend."
"Cheater," she laughed. "Who does my cheating boyfriend love more? Death, me, or Felicia?"
The "negotiation" had finally started. "Silvija, that's not a fair question."
It really wasn't possible to quantify love, especially when he loved each woman for different reasons.
"It's almost as fair as stealing our hearts when you already belonged to Death," Silvija replied in a sharp voice. She shifted in his lap to look at him directly, her blue eyes searching his face. "You didn't deny Felicia. I'm guessing what happened today made you fall for each other."
"Kinda," he admitted honestly. There was no point in lying anymore when he had decided to take Felicia more seriously. "Death gave me permission to pursue other women."
Silvija's eyes widened slightly. "I knew it."
He had also suspected that Silvija had seen through Death's act. "Is this case closed?"
"You didn't take our permission," she snorted. "I'll be blunt with you. Will you give them up and be mine alone?"
First, she tested his strength, and now, she was testing his wits. And thankfully, he had a perfect counter-argument.
"Will you give Symkaria up and be mine alone?"
Silvija sucked in a deep breath. "That's not—they're all relying on me. I can't just abandon them."
"Death and Felicia are relying on me. I can't just abandon them." He loosened his grip on her and raised one hand, golden energy spiraling around his fingers as magic circles bloomed in the air. "Death is there for everyone, every soul in every world. But no one is there for her. People hate her, curse her for every tragedy."
"It is reasonable," Silvija said, watching the magic with curiosity and fascination. "Nobody wants to die."
A smile tugged at his mouth. "See what a world gets when it has its wish."
The magic circles pulsed once, then expanded. The air between them and the far wall shimmered, and suddenly they were looking through a window into his mind.
Monstrosities beyond imagination could be seen on the other side. It was the Cancerverse now coming alive with his mystic mastery and imagination.
Silvija turned away with a pale face. "I thought symbiotes were scary. Why, how can a deathless world be so terrifying?"
"Lifeforms grew endlessly like cancer, and this is the result." Dante closed the magic circle. "I won't stop being with Death. She needs me. Maybe more than anyone else does."
The firm declaration left Silvija silent, pondering… deciding whether it was worth it to change herself to be with him.
After a few tense moments, she twisted in his lap and faced him fully, legs straddling his thighs. With hands on his collar, she yanked him close and kissed him. Not a tame, romantic kiss. This had the same intensity as her fight.
Because this was her answer to everything he meant to her.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were bright with hope and determination. "I won't give up on Symkaria."
"I don't want you to," Dante replied, relief apparent in his voice. "You will lose your soul without Symkaria… and I'll become jobless if you quit."
A surprised chuckle escaped her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Rest assured, lover. You'll be eating well for the rest of your life."
"I love eating, especially meat," Dante said, letting his hands slide down her sides before settling on her ass. He squeezed into firm muscle through the fabric of her shorts, unable to stop his naughty hands with his gorgeous girlfriend straddling his lap. "I especially love women with plenty of it."
She shivered from the unexpected attack on her butt. "Dante..."
His name on her lips was like an invitation. "Silvija, can I?"
Her breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling against his. Those ice-blue eyes were suddenly overcome with desire.
"Do you really want me?" The question made her look fragile. The sovereign of Symkaria, commander of mercenaries, Silver Sable herself had been stripped away at the moment. What remained was just Silvija, a woman asking if she was truly desired.
Dante didn't trust himself to find words that would be enough. He kissed her instead to show his desire. His hands left her hips and slipped beneath the hem of her tank top. She trembled slightly under his touch as he traced upward the hard ridges of her abs up to her ribs. This time there was no resistance or hesitation.
She gasped softly when his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts, her thighs tightening on either side of his hips.
BANG. The training room door burst open and slammed against the wall.
"Darling, Ava said you'll be here! Where are you~?"
Felicia's cheerful voice destroyed the heated air.
Both Dante and Silvija turned toward the doorway with identical expressions of pure annoyance.
Felicia froze in the middle of taking the first step inside the training room. Her green eyes moved from Silvija sitting in Dante's lap, down to his hands clearly inside Silvija's tank top, then back up to their faces.
Pure silence permeated the training room. Nobody moved. Nobody even seemed to breathe.
"I..." Felicia's voice came out small, lacking her usual bravado. "I forgot to turn off my toaster!"
She grabbed both door handles and closed the door quietly. Her footsteps retreated rapidly down the hall as though she was fleeing after accidentally witnessing a murder.
Silvija slowly turned her gaze from the door to him. He wanted to maybe make a joke about Felicia's timing, but the look she gave him killed that idea.
She grabbed his wrists and yanked his hands out of her tank top. "Come to my room."
It wasn't a suggestion or a request—it was a command.
With their position, he easily swept her in a princess carry. "Gladly."
***
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