Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 88

**Kairos**

The moment Zora pressed her fingers into the tender flesh of his carotid artery, darkness enveloped him, and for a fleeting instant, it was the most serene peace he had ever experienced amidst the chaos of the fight.

Initially, the match had begun on a promising note. Zora had stepped into the ring, and then he had followed, the roar of the crowd chanting his name igniting a fire within him. It was exhilarating, almost intoxicating. Yet, buried beneath that excitement, a flicker of anxiety gnawed at him. He would never admit it aloud, but the thought of Zora—especially knowing she had been training with both Maximus and the Headmaster—filled him with a sense of dread that settled like a stone in his stomach.

The sight of her standing there, exuding confidence, only heightened his unease.

Zora had clearly transformed. Her legs were sculpted with muscle, radiating strength, and the sliver of skin visible between her shirt and leggings showcased the definition of her abdominal muscles. She looked every bit the Alpha, her chin held high, projecting an air of dominance that made his heart race.

And then there was her hair—those wild, enchanting curls. A part of him wondered if someone had let her in on the secret of how her curls drove him absolutely insane. But as he approached the mat, he realized he had never shared that with anyone; it was merely a coincidence. Still, the sight of her curls cascading freely made him want to curse her under his breath. He could have sworn he caught a whiff of her scent as he stepped up to Petyr, the anticipation swirling within him.

Despite the distractions, he launched into the fight with determination. Their initial exchanges mirrored the intensity of their first encounter. Zora was quick to defend, though not quick enough to counter every strike. The third time his fist connected with her cheek, he felt a sickening thrill as blood trickled down her pale skin, staining the collar of her shirt. The sight churned his stomach.

What the hell is wrong with me? he berated himself internally.

He shook off the wave of disgust and aimed another punch at her. He landed a couple of hits to her ribs, but when he swung again, she dodged with a speed that left him momentarily stunned. Before he could react, her elbow struck his ribs with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs.

Gasping for air, he struggled to regain his composure. Fortunately, Zora gave him a moment to reset, and he blinked rapidly, willing the pain to fade. He rolled his shoulder, and then he heard it—a soft, rhythmic sound that would have gone unnoticed had he not been attuned to it.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

As he faced Zora again, the sound intensified, and his heart felt as though it were swelling, threatening to burst from his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words eluded him.

And then she charged.

He blocked her jabs and punches, each strike powerful but not enough to disorient him completely—if only he weren’t so dizzy. Each time her hands connected with him, it sent a jolt through his body, electrifying him from head to toe. All he could do was push her away. When she roared and lunged at him with her claws bared, he swatted her aside as if she were nothing more than a pesky fly.

But deep down, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her.

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