23. Chapter Twenty-Three
“Are you sure about this?” Coach asks, looking me up and down. I’m wearing leather pants without a shirt and black boots. The crowd outside roars for fighters already battling it out. On a weekend night, it’s packed.
I thought I’d be nervous, but I’m not. While I might not have done a battle with the audience present, I’ve been training for years. For my debut, I’m doing a no-holds-barred, including using my powers, with Coach.
It’s always impressed me how much Coach Richor allows his students to maim him for fun. He claims there’s no pain, but I’m curious how he’ll feel about my electricity.
Because I have a lot inside me that needs to be let out.
Kyrielle and I haven’t spoken in a week, not since the absurd confrontation.
She sent a couple of texts to check on me; I ignored both of them.
We will be cordial as we help Fynn plan his engagement.
During family-related events, I’ll be polite.
But there’s no longer any reason to engage in something further.
Coach watches me with white eyes, his stare boring a hole into my brain. “There’s been a change of plans.”
A prickle of dread works its way down my spine. “A change?”
“Yes. Another fighter requested to take my place.”
Immediately, I know who. Taking a step back, I shake my head. “No.”
“You don’t even know who.”
“I know exactly who.”
Coach crosses his muscular arms. “I didn’t know the two of you were friendly.”
“We aren’t.” Anger swirls in my veins, heating my blood. I can’t believe Kyrielle is doing this. Putting me on the spot. And for Coach to entertain it?
It’s both parts ballsy and annoying as fuck. Why can’t she just leave me alone?
Ignoring our usual respectful dynamic, I jab a finger at him. “Why in the Hells are you springing this on me now? I could kill her.”
He looks unperturbed. “You won’t.”
Snarling, I begin pacing. “How can you say that? There’s a reason I don’t do battles, Coach.”
“She’ll preemptively take a healing potion. Kyrielle is far stronger than she appears.”
“I know how strong she is,” I growl, whirling on him. “She doesn’t know how strong I am.”
Coach chuckles softly. “She could probably stand to be knocked down a peg.”
“I refuse to be the one who does it.”
He eyes me critically, and I can tell, after years of working together, that he won’t budge on this. “She said you’d say that. She also told me to tell you that if you ‘puss out’, she’ll never speak to you again.”
My mouth snaps shut so hard, my fangs pierce my lip. Fury, kept carefully boxed away, explodes inside my chest. How dare she. Smoke emanates from my scales; it’s a struggle to not shift right here.
Coach cocks his head. “Are you going to lack the necessary control? Fighters unable to control themselves are banned from future fights for a minimum of six months.”
Great. A landslide of consequences. Exhaling harshly, I ask, “What if she expects me to take it easy on her?”
“Kyrielle will be extremely insulted if you do.”
My shoulders slump. “I have no choice, then.”
“No. You really don’t.”
Looking him square in the eye, I mutter, “If I kill her by accident, I’ll destroy this entire arena with talons and teeth.”
“Then don’t kill her.”
The announcer informs the audience of the upcoming match. My upcoming match. Coach waves me forward to the door leading into the arena. “You get three elemental attacks each. Outside of that, it’s body attacks only. Choose wisely. No wings.”
The limitation of three elemental attacks calms some of my rising anxiety. But as far as I’m aware, her one elemental power is fire. Which I’m impervious to. However, I’m fairly certain she is not immune to my environmental abilities.
One way to find out.
As the door to the arena opens and the crowd roars, my body goes numb. Entering the dissociative state I’ve perfected since childhood, all of my emotions turn off, except for one.
Rage.
The announcer introduces The Firecracker. The crowd roars.
When I walk in, he says, “And now! Wings and Claws! Introducing a first-time contender, Trinte the Titan!”
On the inside, I’m rolling my eyes. If contestants don’t have ideas for their show name, Richor gives them one. Yesterday, I told him I didn’t have a preference, but now the revealed title makes me want to cringe.
It’s not far off, though. The Titans were descendents of terrible dragons with no sense of kindness or empathy.
Kind of who I want to be.
The bright light of the arena is blinding, and the screams are deafening.
Species of all kinds ring the circular space, with freshly raked sand under my feet.
In the center is Kyrielle, wearing her burnt orange and gold leathers that show off her cleavage and muscular limbs.
Like a warrior goddess sent to torture me more than I already have been.
Stalking forward to tower over her, I hiss, “I cannot fucking believe you.”
Kyrielle smirks, not backing down. Her hair’s pulled back in intricate braids, exposing the long column of her tantalizing neck.
Shut the fuck up. There’s no reason to remotely find her attractive right now.
“Are you afraid of losing?”
“No,” I snarl. “I’m afraid of killing you.”
She lifts her chin. I’m more than a foot taller than her, and she somehow stares me down like I’m a potential nuisance. “How about we make a bet?”
“A bet?” I know we have hundreds of Gondorans watching us right now — some might even be able to hear our exchange.
“Yes. If I win, I get to ask five questions with full, honest answers. Nothing is off limits.”
My personal nightmare. “And if I win?”
Kyrielle tilts her head. “What do you want?”
“I can ask for anything?”
“Yep.”
Looking into her magma-colored eyes, I consider my options. With more time to think, I probably could’ve come up with something better. But each second of delaying the battle mounts pressure on my brain.
It would be wise to say something dramatic like, you leave me alone forever. But it’s not what I want. What I really want is her. Even though she pisses me the fuck off. Especially right now.
“One more night,” I growl. “Where you submit entirely.”
She’d probably be less surprised if I said she needed to swim in a pool of ice cream. “What?”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Uh, guys? Are you ready?” the announcer whispers from a few feet away.
“Fine,” Kyrielle grounds out. Like she dreads the idea. Which means she thinks me winning is an actual possibility.
She has no idea.
We back away from one another, eyes locked. Kyrielle is extremely unaware of the lengths I’ll go to keep my secrets. But she’s about to find out.
When the buzzer sounds, signalling the beginning, I raise my hands. Pouring every ounce of anger into it, I slam lightning into Kyrielle’s body. Her body arches violently, and a scream escapes her lips. It almost makes me falter, but the alternative is having to talk about my father.
The electricity intensifies.
Screams of joy and dismay echo against the walls; I don’t think they’ve ever seen The Firecracker taken out so fast. There’s a good chance Coach didn’t inform her of what I can do.
Knowing exactly how excruciating the power feels, I release the lightning after five seconds.
Clenching my fists, I sever the power pouring from my body.
Everything buzzes, and the thumping pulse in my ears dulls the roaring crowd.
The part of me aching at causing her pain’s immediately stifled. She wanted this, so she can have it.
Kyrielle collapses onto the sand, heaving for air.
Stifling the impulse to comfort, I wait, giving her prone form a stony stare.
Someone screams at me, demanding that I attack her.
But I can’t — won’t — strike until she’s ready.
This is about making a point now. She’s so desperate to know me?
Fine. Here I am, in all of my destructive, unloveable glory.
Her head slowly raises until she’s glaring through her brow. A vicious, unforgiving smile splits her beautiful face; my heart skips, ready to meet the rage brewing in those stunning eyes.
Hopping up in one fluid movement, her hands thrust out. Black smoke slams into me, watering my eyes and burning my throat. The heat of it is so intense, my orbed eye can’t decipher any defined heat signatures. What the fuck?
Stars fill my vision as Kyrielle punches me hard in my good eye. Another reason I avoid battles — I can’t afford to lose another eye. The fact that she even went there, straight to my greatest weakness, unshackles any hesitation left.
The smoke is still intense, but my hearing works just fine. Feet hit the sand, signalling her landing.
Leaning down, I grip one of her delicious thighs and slender neck, tossing her across the arena. The black smoke dissipates enough to see her land on the ground with both feet, skidding backward. Her eyes never leave mine.
She grins as she sprints toward me. I’m tempted to electrocute her again, to fully put her down, but a new part of me is rising to the challenge in her expression. This is fun for her. Maybe it can be fun for me, too.
My hands reach out, ready to snatch her small body, but completely miss as she drops one leg. Kyrielle slides right under my waiting grasp, sand flying in the air, and punches me right in the dick.