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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 i

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.

She would have liked to ask someone, but the only other Phoenix she knew was her dad and she would rather spend the rest of eternity wondering about the truth than speak to him for a single minute. His evil, his absolute lack of concern for others, for his own daughters’ well-being…she shuddered. He wasn’t exactly Father of the Year material.

That was another reason to remain out of the game. If she caught fire, or set someone else on fire, word of her new ability would spread. Daddy Dearest might come for her.

“Damn, girl. Are you feverish?” Bianka was sweating when they parted, though her twin didn’t sever all contact, keeping her arm wound around Kaia’s waist.

“Nope,” she lied. “Flushed. And I know, you don’t have to say it. Strider is a lucky man.”

“That’s the truth.”

Quashing a spark of guilt before it could form—she absolutely hated lying to her twin—Kaia glanced around the room. Taliyah nodded in acknowledgment before returning to her blade-sharpening task. Gwen blew her a loving kiss. Neeka offered her a small smile and the others waved.

“Catch me up,” she said.

Bianka pulled her forward. Kaia’s other hand was intertwined with Strider’s and stayed that way until the last possible second. As she and her twin sat on the floor of the Team Kaia tent, she saw Sabin, Lysander and Strider gather in a corner and put their heads together, chatting, their voices low.

She tried to listen, her ears twitching, but she couldn’t make out the words. She tried to read their lips, but they kept their bodies angled away from her, not allowing her a single peek.

She was very close to standing up, stomping over, gripping her man by the shoulders and shaking him. Then she would demand he tell her what was going on, what he didn’t want her to know.

You trust him. You know he would never hurt you. And that was true. She did. She trusted him with her life. Obviously. Otherwise, she never would have slept, truly slept, with him.

Gods, that had been amazing. Rousing from seductive dreams and feeling her man beside her. She’d been cocooned, had luxuriated in his strength, his thick arms banded around her. Sleep had still held him in a tight fist and his features had been relaxed, boyish.

Never in her life had she been so content.

“So…what do you think? You in?” Bianka asked, drawing her attention.

Shit. She hadn’t heard a single word her sister had said. “In what, exactly? Tell me again, because your explanation was so lame it confused me.”

Bianka knew her very well and rolled her eyes. “You are such a bad liar.”

Am I? she almost asked with a smug lift of her chin. You didn’t catch my last one. “You’re projecting. Continue.”

“I was telling you how we’re in Rome, in the Coliseum. And get this. It’s the Coliseum of old, exactly the same as it used to be—only way different.”

Kaia supposed that, when you were as pretty as Bianka, you didn’t need to be smart. “Bee, darling. You are so, so exquisite, but you are also highly deranged. Do you have any idea how contradictory that statement was?”

“What are you talking about? I make perfect sense if you don’t actually ponder anything I say. Now guess what? The Coliseum is hidden from the mortal eye. We’re hidden from the mortal eye, in a realm we didn’t need a portal to access. Here, but not here.”

“And how’d we manage that?”

“Juliette. Somehow.”

Just the name had her gritting her teeth. Juliette had set her up, had arranged for mere mortals—and Strider’s enemies—to slaughter her. Bitch needed to pay. Soon. “And?”

“And we’ll be fighting like Gladiators. Which is what I was trying to tell you before, if only you’d paid attention. So anyway, you’re very good with your hands and our team needs you this round. You up for it? You were hit pretty badly in Alaska.”

They needed her? When they’d brought home their first victory without her? She eyed her sister critically, searching for any sign of duplicity or placation. Only i

No placation, then. No recrimination over her past defeats, either. Bianka believed in her.

Could she believe in herself?

Her new ability might hurt her sisters, yes, but it would definitely aid her in a second victory. A victory Strider needed her to achieve for his very survival.

She glanced over at him. He was still in that circle with his friends, but he was facing her now. His blond hair was mussed, his cheeks flushed. They were always flushed around her, as if he were constantly aroused. She liked that.

His lashes were so long they curled upward. And wow, were they the perfect frame for those wicked blue eyes. His lips were swollen, delightfully red. They may not have had sex again, but they’d certainly kissed. A lot. At every possible opportunity she had sucked on his tongue.

No question, she was addicted to him.

Her study intensified. There were cuts on his fingers and palms, she noted. He’d borne those same injuries before, but those had healed. Hadn’t they? She frowned, hating that he was hurt again. Hating more that she didn’t know why or how. Had she inflicted the damage?

The thought caused her stomach to cramp. She just, well, she loved him so damn much. She hadn’t known for sure until she’d shouted the words, but she did. He was strength personified. He was devilish. He was fun and charming, with a smart-ass mouth she couldn’t resist. He made her laugh. He pushed her to the edge, knowing she could take it. He teased her, didn’t fear her. He knew her, understood her, was sometimes tender, sometimes harsh. He worried about her, trusted her.

He’d also married them.

The knowledge had shocked the hell out of her. Yeah, he thought that was still his little secret, but she was onto him. She wasn’t sure why he hadn’t confessed, or even why he’d done it, but she was stubborn enough to wait him out. And she was just devious enough to tease him until he came clean.

After all, she liked his methods.

She also loved the knowledge that she was as much his as he was hers. And that’s exactly how she knew he’d done it. She felt him. He was a part of her mind, in her blood, her soul, her heart, that bone-deep co

Since waking up in his arms, she’d known something was different between them and had spent many, many hours puzzling over what it could be. Little flashes of memory had come and gone—the glint of a blade, the drip of crimson, the press of Strider’s skin, the whisper of his breath. The words, “You are mine, and I am yours. We are one. From this moment, we are one.”

Oh, yes. They were wed and she’d never been happier. She owed this man so very much.

She watched as he pulled a packet of Red Hots from his back pocket and shook the contents into his mouth. He chewed, his strong jaw working. Her chest constricted at the sensuality of him.