Octavia's Point of View
I stand frozen as Rafael finally turns and walks away, that infuriating smirk still tugging at his mouth like he has won something. My chest rises and falls with sharp, uneven breaths, my pulse still racing from the spar, and from him. Always him.
My wrist throbs faintly where his hand had clamped down too tightly, and I cradle it against my chest, fingers brushing the red imprint he left behind. It stings, but not nearly as much as the way my heart twists inside me. I tell myself it is from the fight, from his arrogance, from everything about him that makes me furious. But I cannot lie to myself about the other thing, the sparks. Those damn mate sparks.
Every time he touched me, they lit me up, reminding me of what I have been trying so hard to bury. Of what I r
