B L A C K H E A R T
book 2 in the 'chaos series'
after enduring the trials of the void, lusine finds herself on earth. only a matter of time before she is reunited with loki, lusine finds herself questioning things she never questioned before as s...
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twenty nine "hands slick with blood"
Casia panted as she stepped back, shirt stuck to her back with hot sweat. The blade was slippery in her palm and her pulse a thunderstorm in her chest, lungs inhaled and exhaled rapidly.
Kyrie still advanced, a glint in her eye that just let everyone know she was dangerous, she was well-taught and well-practised, and that she would not, not in a million years, take it easy on the half-breed Midgardian.
"I need a break," Casia told her and expected her to back off, to sheath her weapon to have her own break, but she was gravely mistaken.
As soon as her sword lowered, Kyrie swiped at her viciously.
The blade stung as it struck her, more force behind it than any of the other blows. While she was thankful it was blunt, she knew there would be a hell of a bruise the next day and a lesson to come of it.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Casia hissed and pressed a hand over the angry red mark on her upper arm, willed it to go away.
"Your opponent isn't going to let you take a break," She said irritatingly calmly. "So, neither am I." Her words word enunciated and flared with the gesturing of her sword, one hand rested on her hip.
Cruel to be kind was how she justified the act. This wasn't a game. This was real life. Warriors died every single day and this woman was whining about a slap. Kyrie may have been calm in tone and exterior, but her interior fizzed as she remembered all those she had watched fall while this girl complained about a minor scratch.
"But you're not an enemy, you're a teacher!" The agent protested. She pouted as she rubbed the smooth skin of her arm that was now branded with the mark of Commander Kyrie Kella.
"You need to learn not to drop your guard until the threat is neutralised," Kyrie told her sternly, her back stiff and shoulders raised. The light shirt she wore flapped in the wind as it came untucked from sword play.
In all her years, she'd never met a woman so childish, so pedantic. Who liked to pick at every detail and hold onto it with both hands, determined to win an argument. While that determination was admirable, being on the receiving end was far beyond an annoyance.
"You're not a threat," Casia argued, plump bottom lip pushed out. All her toys lay at the wheels of the pram.
Kyrie snapped and, with eyebrows raised and hand tight around the sword, she ground her teeth before she said, "If that is the truth, why do you keep failing to defeat me in combat?"
Casia sucked in a breath, unable to respond to her question because, in truth, the only answer to her question was the fact that she just wasn't up to par yet.
And that stung. Casia was always top of the class, the best at everything. Her competitive nature always gave her that edge. But this? This was a different ball game and she just could not wrap her head around it for the life of her.
