Page 31 of Reckless
Think.
I should follow her. I should follow her and take her by surprise. I should be smart about this. Every bit of training screams at me to handle this delicately, deliberately.
But where’s the fun in that?
I’ll handle her as delicately as she did my father.
I want to see her squirm, fumble to keep up her facade. And with an audience at my disposal, her identity is at stake, forcing her to focus on both me and the role she’s playing.
And that’s when I open my mouth.
“So, isShadowup for another round?”
It’s as though I had screamed.
Her head whips in my direction with such fervency that I struggle to ignore the memory of how she used to relax at the sound of my voice. Her eyes drift from face to face. Searching. Frantic. Afraid.
And then those ocean eyes crash into mine.
It’s electric, this look, though not like it used to be. The invisible tether between us is now charged with our past, our present, our future—with everything we once were and everything we now are. It’s a hostile sort of harmony, both of us finally fully aware of what we are to each other—nothing. Just the shell of what was; what could have been.
I used to welcome the idea of drowning in those blue eyes of hers. But now, seeing the disdain she stares me down with, I realize that drowning alone wasn’t what I craved, but sinking together.
“And”—the announcer’s voice doesn’t manage to tear my gaze from hers—“who might you be?”
Her gaze narrows atop the folds of fabric concealing the face I know too well. A challenge. I can practically hear her taunting voice echoing in my skull.
Go on. Tell them who you are, Prince.
“Flame,” I say, my eyes never straying from hers.
Her eyes leave mine long enough to roll. My smile is sharp, though she can’t see it behind the bandanna concealing the bottom of my face.
If she is Shadow, then I am Flame.
This girl is the very thing I can’t seem to escape—can’t seem to go anywhere without the remnants of her following. Where I am, she is. Whether it’s in the flesh or in the fragments of my mind.
And where there is a flame, there is always a shadow.
She is my inevitable.
The announcer rubs the back of his neck, contemplating. “Well,Flame, we weren’t planning on another match tonight….”
“Ah, of course.” I raise my hands slightly, appearing apologetic. “I understand. Shadow can’t handle another fight tonight. Wouldn’t want him to lose his winning streak, now would we?”
When my eyes slide back to her burning gaze, they narrow slightly. A challenge of my own.
Your move, Shadow.
The eavesdropping crowd finally breaks its silence with scattered whispers. The announcer glances sidelong at her, speaking volumes with the single movement. I’ve backed her into a corner, threatening the image she’s built. Her reputation is now at risk if she refuses my obvious challenge.
Her eyes bore into mine, threatening to set me ablaze. And then she nods, slow and sure and single-handedly sending the room buzzing in anticipation.
“Looks like we have another match, folks!” I barely hear the announcer’s booming voice through the blood pounding in my ears. My feet begin carrying me toward the ring and every moment after. Every moment after I touch her again.
“Let’s give Shadow a quick breather, aye? That’s only fair.”
My head whips in the announcer’s direction, feet stalling. My gaze flicks to the figure beside him, relief smoothing her crinkled brow, eyes sifting through the crowd.
