Chapter 6 Make It a Good One #2
It took Kalypso a full minute for her stunned confusion to morph back into disgust and anger and…
okay, she was still really confused. And she was running out of time if she wanted to catch up to Bri and get more information about her sister.
Not to mention, if she died on her first mission tomorrow, she should probably say something to Kat.
Instead, she found herself storming out of the training building and back to the living quarters.
Of the few lingering demons, no one bothered her as she hurried her way back to the common space and shoved through the door.
The magic brushed against her skin, less offensive the more she did it, but she ignored it in favor of the new book resting on the table between the couches.
Kaly yanked open the cover, glaring at the first page before furiously flipping to the next. And the next. And the next.
With a frustrated scream, she slammed the book closed and stepped back, breath coming in hard pants. Her legs wouldn’t stop bouncing as she glared at the closed tome, the implications. Fear wrapped around her again, but this time it drowned out the confusion.
Anger. Anger was so much safer. She needed it to focus, to help her clear her mind before tomorrow. She didn’t need softness or reassurances from her sister. She needed a drive, a fury, a fucking reason.
Rand wouldn’t let her back in the training room, and by now, he’d probably given instructions to the rest of the squad to turn her around or drag her to the mess hall to eat. But she wanted to bury her vulnerabilities with sweat and bloodied knuckles. She wanted to scream.
But there was no privacy here. Anywhere. Not when everyone was watching, waiting for her to make a mistake. Circling like they tasted her blood and wanted more of it. To peel her apart and see what Ozirax had, and then destroy her with it.
Why hadn’t he?
Why did he have to…
Kaly flashed a vulgar gesture at the tome before swiping it off the table and carrying it to her room. She set it on the bed, but the thought of sitting still for the rest of the evening was repulsive, so she stripped and wrapped herself in a towel before heading toward the bathing chamber.
Silence greeted her as she shoved into room, steam from whoever had last been inside curling around her.
She breathed in deep, pressing her back to the closed door and simply letting the heat sink into her boiling blood.
But it wouldn’t be enough, she knew, until she could feel that scalding heat on her skin. Feel something physical.
Her hand brushed over the rune of the marbled shower, water immediately raining down from the pipe overhead.
Such a strange thing, to not only perform magic—albeit from an ingrained system that gave everyone the ability to access running water or draining toilets—but to see the crisscross of lines and instinctively know that with another swipe of her hand across the wall, she could raise and lower the temperature of that falling water.
Shower magic aside, it was the confusion of understanding the runes that had her slapping the heating rune until it no longer flashed. Kalypso shoved the curtain closed, tossing her towel to the bench inside after learning the hard way not to lose sight of her belongings.
The first touch of water against her skin burned, and then she was stepping into the scalding heat, letting the fire sluice over her skin before swirling into the drain.
She’s doing great.
Kaly cracked her neck.
You two need to bone.
She stared at the wall, stoking the rage within her.
You’re a real treat, you know that?
Trails of fire burned over her cheeks.
The lettering is easier to read.
She didn’t remember making the fist, only the feel of her knuckles crunching against the wall. Pain burst at the first splash of blood, but it wasn’t enough. Never enough.
The second hit was worse, and yet so much better. Freeing. She was only a being of pain and hurt, and now her outsides would match her insides—
The third punch never landed. A hand clamped over her wrist, pure strength preventing her from slamming her bleeding knuckles back into the marble, and then that power was spinning her in place. Pressing her back into the wall. Holding her still.
“Fucking—”
Ozirax hissed, face pinched in pain as water splashed over his head and back. His free hand slapped against the wall until he found the rune, the glow enough to tell her that he was dropping the temperature of the water without shutting it off. “That’s hotter than Blazes.”
Kalypso could only stare, rage and fury and even more confusion swirling in her gut. But her lower lip trembled, some mix of emotion and pain bringing her weakness to the surface.
Ozirax glanced down, a stream of water raining from his chin as he leaned over to inspect her knuckles.
She expected him to say something. Needed him to say something. To chastise her, criticize her form, call her a fucking idiot human.
But that water dripping from his chin only served to sting as it cleaned the wounds, and then he was sliding the pad of his clawless finger through the blood that remained.
She watched with utter fascination as the pattern took shape on the back of her hand—two circles, with a waving line bisecting and connecting them.
The moment his finger left her skin, there was a soft glow, and the split of her knuckles repaired right before her eyes.
By the time the glow had faded and the water had washed away all evidence, there was no sign she’d ever injured them.
Her head was silent as she stared at her healed hand, the curl of his clawless purple fingers over her scalded pink skin a stark contrast. The rune etched into the upturned inside of his wrist whispered the same quieting blanket she suddenly felt inside her mind.
But then her eyes focused just beyond where he still gently held her, to the water-soaked towel slung low around his hips as the shower continued to rain over him. He remained still, barely a breath shifting the muscles of his abdomen and chest as water danced patterns over his inked skin.
And maybe she should have felt something—about what he’d just done, about him intruding on her, about her own nakedness in his presence. Instead, as she lifted her gaze to his, her voice cracked.
“Why?”
His brows twitched downward. “You were bleeding—”
“Why did you give me that book?”
Ozirax’s jaw tightened, and even with those depthless eyes, she could feel them studying every inch of her face. “You need to understand the beasts we might find—”
Kalypso pulled her hand out of his before shoving at his chest. “You fucking know what I’m asking!”
And yet, she couldn’t actually say the words. Like saying them herself made the shame worse. But lashing out… that was easier. That was safer.
“I was right.”
His words were careful, slow.
Gentle.
The fight drained. “How did you know?”
Ozirax cocked his head. “The way your eyes scan a page. If you couldn’t read, you’d simply shove the book away and be obstinate.
But you push through, and it takes you longer because your eyes jump too frequently.
Based on the lines that you focus on the longest, I could tell it was the letters.
Shape and spacing are the problem, so I located a book that had larger script and universal spacing. ”
Somehow, hearing it like a report softened the embarrassment in her gut. It wasn’t a judgement; it was simply an assessment. A freakishly obsessive assessment, but emotionless in a way that detached her shame from the facts.
Facts. She wasn’t stupid or worthless. It was just a statement, not a ridicule.
“But not runes?” he questioned at her silence.
Kalypso shook her head. “The symbols don’t jump around. They just… make sense. And they’re easier to remember.”
Ozirax nodded. “I find I have a similar experience. It’s not that you’re unintelligent; you simply need a different method to process the information. I was fortunate enough to have the resources to seek answers on my own.”
He… had the same challenge?
“This is why you chose to punch a wall? Because I gave you a book?”
It took two simple questions to remember where she was. What she was doing. What she was running from.
Kalypso snarled. “Get out.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
Ozirax held perfectly still, glare piercing her. “You heard me.”
She stepped into the spray of water and shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. Frustration building again under the no longer scalding water, she curled her healed hand into another fist.
He glanced down, one of his fangs poking out of his curled lip.
“Do it.” His eyes flicked back to her face, challenge narrowing his glare.
“Hit me. Hit something more satisfying than a fucking wall. I know that energy is boiling inside you, begging to be released. You want to feel something, anything, and you want to hurt before it hurts you. Come on, Spicy. Make it a good one. I won’t stop you. ”
Kalypso wound back.
And promptly dropped her arm back to her side.
His jaw ticked. “Why not?”
She blew out a breath, uncaring of the water that sprayed from her lips. “I’m tired.”
“No, you’re not. Because you know you’re taking the easy way out when you train with Rand and not me.”
Suddenly his body was there, and Kaly instinctively took a step away, pressing her back to the wall again. But Ozirax came even closer this time, hand slapping the marble by her head to cage her in. He leaned down, fangs bared.
“You’re not tired because he doesn’t know how to challenge you. He can’t understand your fury.”
“And you can?” Kalypso spat, glancing down to where she’d unknowingly pressed her hand over his rapid-pounding heart.
“You know I can.” Ozirax’s nostrils flared as he stared at that same spot, then lifted his dark gaze. “I still hate you.”
“Feeling’s fucking mutual,” she snarled right before his lips crashed against hers.