Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe #2)(63)

Beyond the living room, an open-air veranda had been transformed into a gym for Bokator sparring. Waiting for him there were Scythe Rand and Tyger, who was stretching and bouncing around like a prizefighter waiting for a championship bout.

“Hope you’re ready to be pounded,” said Tyger. “I’ve been training since I got here!”

Rowan turned to Rand. “Are you serious? Are you really making us spar?”

“Tyger told you that’s why you’re here,” she said with an annoying wink.

“You’re going down!” said Tyger. Rowan would laugh if this weren’t so twisted.

Rand sat in an oversize red leather chair that clashed with her robe. “Let’s have some fun!”

Rowan and Tyger circled each other at a distance—the traditional opening of a Bokator match. Tyger engaged in the physical taunting that was also traditional, but Rowan didn’t reciprocate. Instead, he surreptitiously took in the surroundings. Back in the penthouse, he could see a couple of doors that were most likely a bathroom and a closet. There was an open kitchen, and a raised dining room overlooking floor-to-ceiling windows. There were double doors that were clearly the entry. On the other side would be elevators and an emergency staircase. He tried to visualize how he might escape—but realized if he did, it would mean leaving Tyger in the fly-trap clutches of Scythe Rand. He couldn’t do that. Somehow, he’d have to convince Tyger to come with him. He felt confident that he could do it; it would just take time—but Rowan had no idea how much time he had.

Tyger made the first move, lunging for Rowan in classic Black Widow Bokator style. Rowan dodged but not fast enough—not just because his mind was not on the match, but also because his muscles were tight and reflexes slow, having been tied to a bed for who knew how long. He had to scramble to keep from getting pinned.

“Told you I was good, bro!”

Rowan glanced over to Rand, trying to read her expression. She was not her usual aloof self. Instead, she watched them intently, studying every move of the match.

Rowan jammed the heel of his hand into Tyger’s sternum to knock out his wind and give Rowan leverage to regain his own balance. Then he hooked a leg around one of ?Tyger’s to take him down. Tyger anticipated the move, and countered with his own kick. It connected but without enough force behind it to throw Rowan off balance.

They broke off, and circled once again. Clearly, Tyger had gotten stronger. Like Rowan, his physique had filled out. He had been well-trained by Rand, but Black Widow Bokator was more than physical prowess. There was a mental component, and Rowan had the advantage there.

Rowan began to strike and parry in a very predictable way, using all the standard moves that he knew Tyger would have countermoves for. Rowan let himself be taken down—but only in such a way that he could quickly get back up before Tyger could pin him. He watched Tyger’s confidence grow. He was already full of himself—it didn’t take much to puff ?Tyger’s ego into a balloon fit for popping. Then, when the moment was ripe, Rowan came down on Tyger with a combination of moves that was completely counterintuitive. They were the opposite of what Tyger would do—the antithesis of what he’d be expecting. On top of it, Rowan used moves of his own that were beyond the standard 341 Bokator sets. His attack was out of a box that Tyger didn’t even know existed.

He took Tyger down hard, pinning him in a way that left him no possible leverage to get himself out of it—but still he refused to yield the match. Instead, Rand called it, and Tyger wailed in melodramatic agony.

“He cheated!” insisted Tyger

Rand stood up. “No he didn’t—he’s just better than you.”

“But—”

“Tyger, shut up,” she said. And he did. He obeyed her as if he were nothing but her pet. And not even a dangerous, exotic one. More like a scolded pup. “You’ll just have to keep working on your skills.”

“Fine,” Tyger said, and left for his room in a huff, but not before a parting shot. “Next time, you’re toast!” he told Rowan.

Once he was gone, Rowan inspected a tear in his shirt, and a bruise that was already healing. He ran his tongue across his teeth, because he had taken a glancing blow to the mouth, but no damage. In fact, his front teeth had almost grown all the way back.

“Quite a showing,” said Rand, keeping a few feet of distance between them.

“Maybe I should have a go at you,” Rowan taunted.

“I would break your neck in seconds,” she said, “just as mercilessly as you broke your girlfriend’s neck last year.”

She was trying to bait him, but he wouldn’t take it. “Don’t be so sure,” he told her.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, “but I have no interest in proving it.”

Rowan suspected she was right. He knew how good she was—and after all, she had been part of his training. She knew all of his tricky moves, and had plenty of her own.

“Tyger won’t ever beat me, you know that, don’t you? He might have the moves but he doesn’t have the mind. I’ll take him down every time.”

Rand didn’t deny it. “So beat him,” she said. “Beat him every single time.”

“What’s the point of that?”

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she had her guards bring him back to his room. Mercifully, they didn’t tie him to the bed, but the door was triple-locked from the outside.