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“With the right sponsorship, Cruenta could very well win the tourn—”
“But Appa…” A softer voice interrupted, clear and unexpectedly close. Directly behind her, as if its owner had been circling without drawing attention until now. “I like this one.”
Warmth brushed along Mira’s bare shoulder—just the lightest drag of soft fingertips against sweat-damp skin. The contact was so gentle, it startled her more than any strike could have. A shiver raced, sharp and unbidden, down her spine.
An Omega, Mira realized distantly.
OR:
Condemned to the sand and grit of the Roman gladiatorial pits, Mira had only one goal: win her freedom by any means necessary. A sponsorship from Senator Ryu could be exactly what she needed, with only one problem. That scent would not dissipate from her mind, even from far up in the stands above—the scent of the senator's daughter.
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