Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(90)

That was when he started the mental warfare. He advanced on her, a solid Push from his mind jarring her bones and sparking her power. Power turned to heat within her body. She almost stopped where she was, but if she did she would have been flat on her back from his fist in the next second. Instead, she backed up and half ran to the edge of the clearing, her back to Tobias.

“Running away?” Cayan asked with hungry eyes. Power made his irises glow. The answering power within her nearly roared in response.

“Are you sure you want to play with this much power?” she asked, trying to hide her shaky voice. “Can you control it?”

“Can you?”

“Yes?”

He laughed. “Bring it on little girl. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Yeah, but I am a little afraid of me,” she muttered, gingerly walking back toward him.

She faced him like she would’ve faced any of her opponents so long ago when she was on the sparring pad. She took in a deep breath and drew in her power, wearing it about her person like a cloak. His eyes glowed in response, feeling it calling him, reaching out to her in return. She wanted to join it and play. It felt exciting. Invigorating. Extremely dangerous. Just like him.

“You better have your shield on as tight as you can make it, or else this might hurt a little.” She grinned wickedly.

She attacked, her power unleashing like a splinter, hurled into the center of his forehead as she advanced with hands moving constantly. Kick, punch, wipe away his answering punch, poke to the neck, elbow to the face, then back out, rolling under a kick and turning back with a slap of power. He couldn’t keep up physically, not with her mental bombardment. He was taking punch after kick, staggering, grunting, and straightening for more.

She couldn’t get through his muscle, couldn’t do any real damage. He was fast enough to move that little bit to where she was less effective and block her mental prowess. After about ten minutes he stopped with a hand up. She backed off.

He was breathing heavy and his eyes were contemplative. “You win round one.”

“That’s it?” she asked, working her shoulder. “We can use weapons if you want. No more mental stuff.”

“No, I’m not done. I need to regroup. You’ve done this before. I haven’t.”

“You’re bigger and stronger. Tobias says that gives you an edge.”

“Tobias doesn’t know how lethal a woman’s mind can be when she’s pissed off.”

“Yes I do,” Tobias called from amid the crowd. “But Captain, you are now the underdog. You aren’t making us men folk look all that great right now.”

Cayan nodded. “Again.”

Shanti went at him again, whirling, attacking his mind and body. When she got within his reach she bombarded him with punches, hitting the same places as before, trying to work the bruises through the layers of muscle. As she worked, evading his grabs and answering attacks, a feeling started working up from her inner thighs. It wasn’t unpleasant—in fact…it was only pleasant.

Finishing her punches and ducking out, it felt like a giant, wet, slightly coarse tongue licked between her legs. When it got to the top of her slit it went in lazy circles, and tingles spiraled up her body. Shanti froze, unable to tear her mind away from the sensation. An instant later she was airborne, landing ten feet away flat on her back. Where she stayed for a second, shivering.

“Remind me to apologize to Sanders. Then say you’re welcome,” she said to the air. Cayan started laughing.

“What happened?” Tobias called out.

“The Captain seems to know his way around the female anatomy, and is coloring outside the lines,” Shanti explained, getting up slowly.

“I win round two,” Cayan said with a delighted smile.

“You were paying attention that day…” Shanti said, circling him.

“Not really. But I’m a man. I have an active imagination. It seems visualization is the key.”

“Atta boy, Captain. Way to pull ahead by thinking with your dick,” Tobias called, taking another bet.

“Language,” Cayan said firmly.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Way to give her a taste of her own medicine!” Sanders yelled from off field somewhere.

Shanti continued to circle, a firm hand on his mind. She kneaded his head, pushing at his block, poking it, trying to move it to the side, feathering it. Then, with one swift spike of power, she struck at it, focusing all on one tiny point as she moved in, hands and feet moving. The power speared him, his shield unable to handle such a concentrated attack as her kick landed on his solar plexus.

He wasn’t used to two tiers of fighting, not yet, so he wasn’t organized enough to choose which to block. He took the hit in both places, staggering back, bent, unable to counter. Shanti merely watched, not pursuing, as he dropped down to one knee.

“Ouch,” he said, running a hand over his head.

She reached out immediately, brushing away the hurt with a soft caress, lessoning the residual pain. He looked up with that blue gaze and lingered in her eyes. In her mind.

“Want to just stick to physical sparring for a while?” she asked by way of apology.

“Can you hit harder than that? Can you make it more potent?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.”