With more wrath than I thought possible, I rush forward. He moves aside, but I try to guess his direction. Edging to the left, I barrel right into him, and we fall to the mat and roll as I try to land blows.
“That’s it?” He smirks and hops to his feet and backs away. “Trythis time, okay?”
“Ceredes.” Kyte approaches, worry in his eyes.
“I’ve got this. Don’t worry, Kyte. She’s just an Omega. Not even strong enough to fight off one Sentient.”
Blood pounding in my ears, my heart hammering, a guttural scream erupts from my throat as I rush him again. This time, I pull some of my power and wrap it around him, a barrier forming to cage him in.
He slams his elbow into it, shattering it and sending a tremor through me, as if the silvery energy was an appendage, a phantom limb.
I conjure another. He smashes it. Then I stop and put all my thought into the next one, this one becoming something from my memory. My toybox. The same one I used to hide in when I was small enough to fit inside. I always thought it was unbreakable, and as long as I was inside, no one could ever touch me. That same box, bigger and far more formidable, appears around Ceredes, and I wrap the entire thing in steel bars.
He pounds on the sides, some of the wood flying in shards and splinters, but then I cover over the broken spots, replacing the crayon-etched wood until it’s solid. So solid that I can feel his attempts to break free, but they’re only faint tickles of sensation. I have him. Some of the ire inside me drains, and I’m about to release him when I feel a blade at my throat.
“Ceredes isn’t the only one you need to worry about.” Jeren’s silky voice in my ear is a lover’s caress.
“Maybe that’s enough.” Kyte sends an energy bolt—this one far stronger than any he could create before the circle formed—and blows my toybox to bits. Ceredes steps forward and cracks his knuckles.
“I let you,” I tell Kyte.
“I know.” He peers at me from across the room as Jeren’s warm breath washes across my neck in tingling waves.
Ceredes inhales deeply, the predatory look on his face sending shimmers of desire through me.
“So much slick, little Omega,” Jeren whispers in my ear, one of his arms looping around my waist as he presses his erection against me. “Do you need me to ease you?”
I lean back and move my hips, rubbing up and down his hard length. He pulls the knife from my throat. I whirl and kick out low, swiping his legs out from under him as I dart toward the wall and draw an energy sword. Ceredes is already there choosing his own.
A green barrier flickers to life between us. “Lana, Ceredes, that’s enough.” Kyte’s brows are drawn together, his body taut.
“It’s enough when I say it is.” I imagine taking his barrier in my hand and crushing it, shattering it to bits and blowing the dust from my palm.
It begins to quiver, the green fading in and out.
“Lana, don’t.” Kyte grits his teeth as Ceredes stalks back and forth on his side of the divide like a lion at the zoo, his eyes fixed on me.
I pull from the well of power inside me and close my fist. The barrier splinters, and I rush forward. A blade flies at me from the shadow to my right. I duck, roll, and thrust my sword upward, but Ceredes slaps it away with his own.
Jeren creeps around to my back, but I put a hand out and throw up another barrier, this one like a screen of static on an old TV. Maybe I can keep it going while I fight Ceredes. He comes for me, his nostrils flaring as he swings his sword. Mine sizzles as I use it to block the blow that vibrates up my arm and to my teeth. He strikes again as I dart to the side and swing to my left, trying to hit him.
He dodges and comes for me again. Always on the offensive. I feint to my left then move forward, meeting him with another sizzle of swordplay, both of us striking and defending. I realize my style mimics his. Is that another gift from the circle? Have I received his sword-wielding abilities?
“Worried?” He grins and presses his advantage, shoving me backward, our swords crossed.
“For you? Definitely.” I surge forward, using that pool of strength that seems to reach down to the depths of my soul, all of it bound to the circle. With a hard shove, I push him back, then go at him again, my sword moving, dancing with his, the blows constant, but never drawing blood. He’s not trying. Not really. I’m not half the swordsman he is, but he’s letting me dash myself against him like ocean waves on rock.
It’s working, because I tire. I no longer feel overfull. My stuffing seems to be receding inside me, my seams re-sealing. I slow my pace and remove the static barrier, then realize Jeren had already moved through it and was watching us battle with interest.
Ceredes steps back, his sword still at the ready. “Have you had enough?”
“Have you?” I grip my side where I’m starting to get a stitch.
He shrugs, barely breathing hard at all, and tosses his sword to the wall.
With the little bit of strength I have left, I rush him. He grabs my wrist, squeezes until I drop the sword, then wraps me in his arms, my back to his front.
“Better?” He nuzzles in my hair.
