He heard the sound of pool balls clacking, so he checked to see who it was. When he saw Oliver, he turned and walked away. Speaking to the human right now would not be in the male’s best interest.
Another flight of steps down and he encountered Phillip and Jeffrey in the kitchen, going over the planning for the next meal.
All was getting back to normal, but still the restless energy didn’t subside, so Obsidian navigated down another flight of stairs, deep underground.
Though the house had all the latest technology to protect them from the sun as well as intruders, back when they’d been designing the compound, Obsidian and his brothers had opted for a backup plan that included a wealth of rooms underneath the mansion. Everything down here ran on separate water, gas, electrical, and HVAC systems, which were all supplied by a solar backup generator. Should the mansion come under attack, it would require tremendous effort for their enemies to gain access to them, allowing them protection from the deadly rays of the sun and opportunity to plan their offensive should it be necessary.
Currently, the various rooms had been set up as recreation—a full-sized, fully stocked bar complete with half a dozen bar-height four-tops. A Wurlitzer Zodiak 3500 jukebox circa 1970 fully restored to its original condition and loaded with 45s, maintained by none other than Gryffyth, their resident music guru, sat proudly in the corner. At the back of the room were two grand pianos brought in by Aphotic and Eclipse when they had the idea of a dueling piano bar, along with a plethora of leather seating scattered throughout. Needless to say, this space saw a lot of action when everyone was in residence.
Aside from that, there were a dozen or so rooms used mostly for storage, along with a twenty-by-twenty room utilized as a weapons locker. But Obsidian’s favorite, and one he and his brothers utilized frequently, was what they referred to as the sparring gym. The nine-hundred-square-foot room was constructed with limestone on all four walls and the floor, lit by four gas torchlights, one on each of the walls, and sealed by a thick stone door. There was nothing inside, no furniture, no equipment, nothing to distract, which made it perfect for sparring.
Two seconds after Obsidian stepped inside the room, Stygian materialized. He’d changed as well, his attire similar to Obsidian’s, shorts, no shirt, feet bare.
As he moved deeper into the room, Obsidian willed the heavy door to close. Once it was in place, he sealed the room with his mind, prohibiting anyone from materializing within. He couldn’t risk Taayin trying to put a stop to what was about to go down. If he knew what was best for him, the male would keep his distance. Especially right now considering he’d willfully overstepped earlier.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Stygian taunted, a grin pulling at his lips. “I assume you’re not at full strength with youramsouelotkeeping you busy.”
Stygian was the closest in age to him, though there was nearly a century between them. They’d trained together once Stygian was old enough, learning everything Michael had been willing to bestow on his warriors. And while their brothers were as competent as they were, their younger brothers’ training had been left to them.
“I can hold my own,” Obsidian assured the male.
“So you say.” Stygian bared his fangs. “But I accept your challenge.”
“Do not hold back,” he ordered.
“Of course not, brother.”
Obsidian squared off with the male, clearing his mind of everything, focusing solely on the rage that was a byproduct of his own fear for hisamsouelot. Like boxers in a ring, they circled one another, gauging, plotting as they moved closer.
“She’s safe here,” Stygian said, clearly reading him correctly.
“I know.” And he did, but that didn’t assuage the concern for her safety.
Obsidian let the anger take over, his eyes glowing brighter as emotion built. Here and now, he didn’t have to worry that Penelope would pick up on his insecurities or question his abilities. He was free to let it all out.
So he did.
As though invisible tethers had been clipped, their bodies collided. Neither held back. Fists flew, knuckles pounded on flesh, knees and elbows cracked against bone. Each landing blows left and right, strategy taking a backseat to the need to punish.
Years of training had honed them both into killing machines, designed with one intention. To take out the enemy.
From the moment of his creation, Obsidian had been bred for this. Going toe-to-toe with an opponent, pummeling anything put in his path. Throughout his existence, he’d never backed down, made certain he was the strongest, the fastest, the most cunning. Fists, blade, or bullet, he had mastered them all. Alongside his brothers, they had continued their training over the centuries, never quite content with their abilities, despite the fact they were a force to be reckoned with.
Obsidian didn’t hold back, nor did Stygian. Wounds would heal, for both of them. However, he’d learned there was only one way to rid the body of the rage. Knuckles, elbows, knees. Nothing was off-limits as they fought for dominance.
Stygian stumbled back, then countered with a roundhouse kick, making contact with Obsidian’s chest. He grunted as he regrouped, nailing Stygian with an uppercut to the jaw. His brother’s head snapped back, but he didn’t fall. Baring his teeth, Stygian charged again.
Minutes ticked by as blood trickled from open wounds, muscles flexed. The only sounds were the reverberation of impact, grunts as pain bloomed from contact, breaths rasping from exertion.
He could feel the push against the magic holding the others at bay. Taayin would no doubt attempt to make entry, but his efforts were no match for Obsidian’s. Thelieterracould try for a century and never chip away at the force field he’d put in place. Obsidian actually found it amusing that he would try.
Stygian caught him off guard with a series of kicks that sent him stumbling. His body slammed into the chipped stone floor before Stygian was over him. Obsidian took two blows to the face, managed to dodge the last, then caught Stygian in the chin, sending him flying backward. Their positions reversed as Obsidian pummeled him in return, but the male didn’t stay down for long.
Grunts and groans ricocheted off concrete as pure will fought against brute strength. Stygian’s silver eyes tracked Obsidian, assessing, attempting to predict his next move. Obsidian’s fear for hisamsouelothad a stranglehold and the rage flowed, sending power through his limbs. Unable to hold back, Obsidian overpowered the male, driving him into the wall with a violence that rattled the mansion’s foundation.
Realizing he was seconds from annihilating him, Obsidian dropped to his knees, weak from exertion, then let himself fall to the ground. Stygian stumbled back against the wall, the stone holding him upright.
Obsidian’s breaths sawed through exhausted lungs, his eyes locked on the ceiling above. He felt better. He would for a bit.
