Page 47 of Creatures of Chaos

“You can take him, Locklyn!”

“I didn’t come here to watch you two eye screw each other!”

That last comment severs the link between us, and I glance outside the cage, looking for whoever said it. As soon as our gazes disconnect, Talon comes at me, dropping low at the last moment and sweeping my legs out from under me. I hit the hard concrete with a thud but twist out of the way of Talon’s follow-up punch. Popping to my feet next to him, I kick out, hitting his hip, and send him staggering back a few feet.

With my hands raised in front of me to defend my face, I bounce on the balls of my feet, a fresh wave of adrenaline surging through me.

Talon takes his time, almost lazily getting back into position. He’s not smiling but there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he wants to.

“Nicely done,” he says conversationally.

I narrow my gaze. What’s he playing at now?

Talon returns my glare with a look of pure innocence, which from experience means he’s anything but.

I don’t want to admit it, but the truth is whatever he’s doing is working. I get an uncomfortable sense of being off kilter. I need to attack this match differently than the last two. Instinct tells me Talon’s stamina is just as good or even better than mine, so trying to wear him out probably won’t work, so it’s time to change up my M.O.

I attack first, aiming kicks at his knees and ribs so that he’s forced to retreat to avoid serious injury. I back Talon up to almost the bars of the cage before he blocks my last kick and then comes at me with a flurry of attacks from both his fists and feet. Some of them connect, but most don’t. But the hits that I do take aren’t hard. They’re like blows I’d expect from a friendly sparring match, not a knockout fight.

Talon’s pulling his punches.

But then again, so am I.

We go on like this for several back and forths before the crowd starts to notice neither one of us is really full-out attacking the other. The boos and catcalls start up again, and for the life of me I can’t seem to block everything out like I did the last matches.

Getting distracted, I catch Becks’ gaze right as Talon comes at me again, sweeping my legs out from underneath me for a second time, but I catch him on my way down and bring him with me, so we end up on the concrete floor grappling with each other.

First he has the upper hand, then I do. Our limbs tangle as we wrestle, and since neither one of us seems to be taking this fight as seriously as we should, the slide of our hands over each other ends up more intimate than aggressive. When wholly uninvited sensations start to trickle through me, I quickly and efficientlyslide out of Talon’s hold. We both pop to our feet and separate, staring at each other from opposite sides of the spiked cage.

Even though we haven’t been going at each other in earnest, we’re still slick with sweat from the exertion, and our breaths come out just shy of panting. It gives me a bit of pride to see Talon looking equally winded. But even so, we both know what we’re doing isn’t battling. It’s closer to working out, honing our skills on one another without any intention of inflicting damage.

“Oh, and there’s one thing I failed to mention at this part of the trial,” the game master says, his rough voice echoing throughout the cavernous space. “From this point forward, if one of the competitors isn’t unconscious when the time runs out, then both will be ineligible to win the advantage for the next trial.”

A round of cheers raises from the crowd, and Talon flicks an annoyed glance at the game master. We both know he just made that rule up.

Talon and I look at each other with matching looks of resignation, and then as if an opening shot is fired we converge on each other in a flurry of fists and feet. I get a solid jab into his left ribs, which up until now I’d been avoiding, and he clips me on the chin. He knees me in the gut, and I jab him in the side of the head.

It goes on and on between us as the clock ticks down, and even though we’re definitely going harder now, we’re still not giving it all we’ve got.

The crowd is a cacophony of sound outside our cage. At one point I think I hear Becks shout, but it’s drowned out by all the other noise.

“Thirty seconds remain, and it looks like we might be eliminating two of our most promising fighters of the night,” the game master says.

A streak of frustration laced with indecision flashes across Talon’s face. Honestly, I don’t mind getting eliminated by a draw. At this point neither one of us is going to get eliminated from this Chaos trial. I didn’t think I’d get this far, and I’m so worn out that I can’t possibly imagine fighting another match after this one anyway. Sitting the rest of the trial out secure in my place as a competitor that’s moving on to the next round sounds pretty good to me, but from the look on Talon’s face, he doesn’t feel the same way. He really wants that advantage.

The crowd starts counting down with twenty seconds left and Talon and I are circling each other. When they get to ten, Talon mouths a curse and with speed he hasn’t used on me up until now, he fakes a jab that I dance away from and then somehow he’s behind me, one arm wrapped around my chest, rendering my arms useless and securing my body against his.

“I’m sorry about this, Freckles,” he says, his breath tickling my ear, and then his free hand slips to the side of my face, almost cradling my head.

I never see the hit or feel the impact, but before I know it my vision goes black.

Sixteen

“I think she’s coming to!”someone shouts, and the sound ricochets in my head like a spiked ball. Even though my eyes are already closed, I squeeze them tighter.

“Lock, hey, how are you feeling?” That voice belongs to Becks, and when I crack my eyelids his face is hovering over mine.

I glance to the side and realize I’m laid out on the ground in the locker room with Becks crouched next to me and several other faces hovering behind him, Shayla and her boyfriend, Owen, and another couple of his dragon shifter friends.

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