“Sure.” Rikyava spoke with a genial nod. “Unless someone else goes ballistic at the party – though I think we’ve probably seen the last of the pyrotechnics. Come on, Layla. Let’s get set.”
Moving toward the doors, Rikyava gestured for Layla. Layla thought Reginald might give her some final instruction for the evening, but he didn’t. With a short, elegant bow, he simply departed, his ice-blue gaze straying one last time to the black spear. It was a hard look, as if the odious weapon was something never to be used unless one was at the very end of need.
Layla shivered, hoping to god they weren’t there yet with Adrian. But Rikyava beckoned again, and Layla moved after her out of the office, striding across the vaulted main hall and turning left towards the magical fight-halls. Heading in through the open door of one hall, as large as a basketball court and entirely coated in a thick flow of rose quartz, Rikyava beckoned Layla in, then shut the three-foot-thick door behind them. Moving to a rose quartz bench, Rikyava shucked her crimson Guard jacket as Layla did a few stretches.
They turned, facing each other, and Rikyava gave a wry smile. “Ready to blow off some steam, girlfriend?”
“Absolutely.” Layla sighed as she stepped out into the center of the hall.
CHAPTER 5 – FIGHT
Whirling in a fast maneuver, Layla swept her leg along the rose quartz floor of the practice hall, then followed it with a curling double-wrist gesture like a lotus, and a quick exhalation ofHA!The sound came from deep inside her, a heave of energy from her core supported by her diaphragm, not unlike a sound she might have made in a power yoga class back in Seattle. Like a combination of ballet and a fast martial art, the maneuver took all her core balance to pull off. She felt it sweep up her Dragon-magics like a sand-funnel, her standing leg anchoring her to the rose quartz as energy channeled from her core through her wrists in a blistering wave of heat.
The sharp exhalation should have pushed Layla’s Desert Dragon magics into a quick, precise strike at the stuffed dummy propped on a pole in the training-hall, knocking it over in a blast of hot wind. But what she got was a scalding wave of real golden fire manifesting in the air between her fingers – hurling out at the dummy and charring it into a sudden fireball.
Laughter rang out behind her – Rikyava’s roaring, amused laugh. Panting, Layla lowered her hands, blinking at the conflagration. Stepping up behind her and still chuckling, Rikyava waved a hand. A halo of blood droplets shot from the Guardswoman’s palm, engulfing the blazing dummy and snuffing Layla’s fire out to wisps of smoke. Stepping over, Rikyava clapped a hand on Layla’s shoulder with a grin, amusement sparkling in her lavender eyes.
“Well, shit. Not exactly what we were going for with that last move, but effective.”
Layla shook her head as she growled in fury, her long ponytail brushing over her bare shoulders. Setting her hands to her hips, she actually roared at the dummy as her Dragon screamed in her veins with exasperation.
“Fuck! Am I ever going to get control over my magic?”
“Patience, padawan.” Rikyava grinned, reaching up to pull out the ponytail holder from her long Swedish-blonde hair and scratch a hand through her luscious mane. “You may think you’re not making progress, but you got most of that maneuver right just now. Everything was good except your hand position. You’re too damn tense. Remember what I told you before about Desert Dragons: tense muscles make fire, soft muscles make wind. You’re one of the few Dragon Lineages that can manifest fire, Layla. Learn the difference between tense and loose muscles, and you might be able to even breathe fire eventually.”
“Like that’s going to help me. Dammit!”
Wiping sweat from her brow with her forearm, Layla turned toward her friend. Dressed in her white silk undershirt with black Guard breeches and tall black boots, Rikyava was built in all the right places, tall and statuesque. Grinning as she walked over to a basin set into the nearest wall, flowing with a waterfall, Rikyava reached in, pulling out two chilled glass bottles of water with stainless steel tops.
Opening one, she swigged it, then gestured to Layla with the other. Moving forward, Layla twisted the top off her bottle, the condensation on the glass cool to her fingers. Swigging water, she enjoyed the chill sensation cascading down her throat, the water bottled from an artesian spring far beneath the Hotel.
“Actually,” Rikyava spoke, wiping her lips with her forearm. “Desert Dragons are famous for fire-breathing, and it’s super intimidating. Adrian’s excellent at breathing fire. It’s part of why he’s won so many dominance-battles, and why people give him respect though he’s still young. He can make fire-walls, weave fire into whips and spears, even in human form. Pretty cool, really. You might be able to do those things eventually. You’re learning battle-magics far faster than anyone I’ve trained, and a lot of maneuvers that make sense to you are things Dusk and Adrian are good at. As if you’re channeling them through your Bind when we train.”
“It feels that way sometimes.” Layla nodded, swigging her water and wiping a sheen of sweat from her neck. They’d been training for nearly two hours, and still Layla’s body felt infernally hot, as if the Dragon inside her could keep going all night after the rage and embarrassment she’d experienced at the Owner’s party.
“You feel like you’re channeling your guys when you fight?” Rikyava lifted her straight blonde brows, nodding to the rose quartz bench by the wall. They moved over and sat, Layla kicking off her ballet-flats and grounding her bare feet on the cool quartz flow with a sigh.
“I do.” Layla nodded, glancing over to Rikyava. “Some of the movements just feel so right in my body, like I’ve known them for decades. It’s like I have a whole repertoire of having danced for the New York Ballet, but I’ve never even stepped on stage.”
“Lucky.” Rikyava imitated Napoleon Dynamite with a grinning pout. “Most Twilight Realm folk study for centuries to have the fluidity you’re picking up on. Which brings up the point: how come you’re so tense, Layla? It’s not like this is hard for you. I’d prescribe meditation and yoga and Rake André’s drinks to relax you, except I already know you do those things. So what gives?”
With a hard sigh, Layla leaned back upon the smooth rose quartz wall. Gazing up at the ceiling of the training hall, she let her gaze wander over the lofty pink vaults. The entire room was rose quartz, from the glassy floor to the high vaulted domes. Some long-ago Crystal Dragon had grown it when the Hotel was built, this hall originally carved out of bedrock, then improved with a three-foot-thick layer of crystal to act as magical insulation. It was lovely, glowing far above and all around them with its own light like being inside a giant pink candy dish.
“Layla? Earth to Layla.” Rikyava chuckled beside her. “Where you at, girlfriend?”
“Sorry.” Layla heaved another sigh, her dark eyebrows pinching into a frown as she glanced back to her friend. “I think it’s Reginald. I think he’s why I’m so tense lately.”
“You think?” Rikyava joked wryly, her violet eyes teasing. “How’s your house-arrest going with the big bad Siren, anyhow?”
“Awful.” Layla shook her head, still leaning back against the wall. “Living in his apartment with him night and day just grates on me, Rikyava. The only time I have to myself is when I’m down here training, or when he’s out having an Assignation. For three weeks it’s beenstand up straight. A Courtesan doesn’t pout. Not that fork, the other one. Ankles crossed, don’t splay your legs like a dock worker on the subway.”
“Figures.” Rikyava snorted, taking another swig of water. “That man is insufferable. When the Hotel Departmental Board voted to make you a Courtesan three weeks ago, I was fucking livid. Everybody could see that wassonot the right decision for you.”
“I don’t know, Rikyava.” Layla smoothed her feet over the crystal flow, feeling its grounding. Deep inside, her Dragon stirred restlessly, just as it did every time she thought about becoming a Courtesan, or Reginald. With a languid roll, it lit her veins with fire, and Layla was suddenly simmering not with battle anymore, but sex. Lustful thoughts filled her; sensations of scales sliding over skin like hot silk. She shivered and an etheric golden fire sloughed off her body – the kind that didn’t burn, but the sign that her eros was taking charge rather than her fury.
“Ooh… easy.” Rikyava shivered next to Layla with a knowing smile. “That sex-magic of yours could make Caligula shy.”
“That’s just the thing.” Layla glanced over, feeling a surge of frustration now. “I might not want to become a Courtesan, but my Dragon does. She doesn’t care that I have issues about sleeping with people for money, or about monogamy. And the more Reginald denies me any touch these past weeks, the stronger it’s getting. I feel like I need to up my fighting sessions to three times a day just to blow off all my pent-up sexual frustration. I thought I had a high libido before my Dragon woke. Now… it’s just insane.”
