Going Down In Flames: Bridges Burned Part 4

At the far end of the room, Octavius and his mate, Vivian, the only two Orange dragons on campus, attacked and parried with wooden swords. It looked like fun.

"I want to learn how to use a sword."

Clint chuckled. "No one fights with swords anymore."

Bryn pointed across the gym. "The Orange dragons know how to use them."

"Ask Octavius to teach you," Ivy said.

"I might."

When she reached the ring, Octavius and Vivian had ditched the swords and moved on to the hollow stick drums unique to their Clan. As thick as Bryn's forearm, the drums were two feet long and decorated with black swirling lines.

The Orange dragons performed a ch.o.r.eographed dance, slamming the wooden instruments together in a manner that made it look like they were still fighting with swords. The resulting noise was a resonant sound that reminded her of bongos.

Vivian called to Bryn. "Would you like to learn? I need a female to perform the Chosen Dance."

That could be fun. Bryn climbed into the ring. "What's the Chosen Dance?"

"The women of my Clan have performed this dance for hundreds of years. Let me show you." She pa.s.sed Bryn a drum. The hollow wooden stick was heavier than Bryn expected.

"First, do this step." Vivian stepped wide with her right foot, and then stomped her left foot. She brought her right foot in close and then performed the move leading with her left foot.

"It's like a hula dance," Bryn said.

Octavius laughed. "Where do you think our bronze skin and brown hair comes from?"

Huh. She'd never noticed that the two Orange dragons resembled Hawaiians.

"Try your feet," Vivian suggested.

The foot pattern was easy enough. Swaying her hips side to side, not so much. Then again, it wasn't like she was trying to impress anyone.

"Now, hold your drum out and I will hit it," Vivian instructed.

Bryn held the drum steady and concentrated on her feet. Vivian swung her drum at Bryn's. The force behind the blows caused the sound to resonate around them.

A melody rose out of the drumbeats. Bryn hummed along as Vivian swung her drum harder and harder. A bead of sweat ran down her back as she held her drum firm in order to withstand Vivian's blows. The tempo of the song increased.

"We will stop after ten more blows. When we finish, look to see who is watching you. They are the males most likely to choose you as a mate."

How scientific was this process? She surveyed the area around the ring. Zavien talked with Mrs. Anderson by the joust. What was he doing here? Didn't matter. If he didn't look her way, she'd hit him over the head with the drum.

"Get ready," Vivian said.

Vivian smacked her drum against Bryn's one more time, and then Bryn checked the area for interested parties. Jaxon glared from across the room. Zavien walked toward her with a smile on his face. Keegan waved from the weight lifting area.

"You have broad appeal," Vivian said with a laugh.

"How do you know they aren't looking at you?" Octavius asked.

The bronze-skinned beauty reached up and traced her fingertips across his lips. "It doesn't matter if they're looking at me. I only see you."

Sparks practically flew between the two. Not wanting to feel like a third wheel, Bryn placed the drum on the mat and backed away.

"Thanks for sharing your traditions with me."

"You're different than the others," Octavius said. "As are we. If you ever need a Clan, we would take you in."

"Thanks. That means a lot."

She climbed out of the ring, ignoring the backflips her stomach performed while she waited for Zavien to reach her. His black hair stood out in the usual three-inch spikes, but it seemed wilder than normal today. One corner of his mouth quirked up and her heart beat faster.

"That was interesting," he said.

Interesting good, or interesting she looked like a dork? "Vivian needed another female to perform the dance. It was fun."

He reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Was it for a special ritual?"

Unsure of how he'd react to finding out he was her chosen one, she avoided the question. "I don't know if I'm at liberty to say. The Orange dragons are a secretive bunch."

"Yes, they are. It's good you're friendly with them. They make formidable opponents."

Her fingers itched to touch him. Going with it, she straightened his tie, allowing her hand to linger on his chest. The impulse to kiss him made her lips tingle.

Zavien moved closer. "Have you seen the addition they're building to house the new ice rink?"

She shook her head. His warm fingers wrapped around hers. "It's this way."

He pulled her behind the ring, out a door, and down a side hall. Where were they? She didn't know and she didn't care. Zavien opened another door, which led to a partially finished and deserted locker room. Before the door closed behind them, she found herself backed against a cold metal locker with Zavien's lips pressed against hers. She fisted her hands in his shirt and held on as heat and electricity built between them. A low growling sound filled the room. Holy c.r.a.p. Is that me or him?

Zavien stepped back, breathing heavily, and stared into her eyes. What? Did I do something wrong?

"Did you use Quintessence when you danced? Was there some sort of magic involved?"

"What? No. It was just a dance."

"Sorry." He studied her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. "I don't understand why I feel so strongly for you right now."

Splash. His words were like a bucket of cold water. "What the h.e.l.l does that mean?"

"You're always in the back of my mind. Right now, you're all I can think about."

"That's not a bad thing." After all, she spent a lot of time thinking about him.

"I suppose not." He stepped away from her. "You should return to cla.s.s."

Cold air rushed in to replace the heat of his body. Goose b.u.mps broke out on her arms. Why was he acting so suspicious?

She wanted answers to big questions, but would settle for something more practical. "What are you doing here? Why did you come see me?"

"I stopped by to tell you I wouldn't be at lunch. I have errands to run."

Okay. That was nice of him. Her fear receded.

He laced his fingers through hers. "Come on. We better go."

Zavien left her at the entrance to the gym. Just walked off. Why didn't he kiss her good-bye? Was he afraid someone would see them? Ugh. She would not do this to herself. He'd come to see her. Even if he'd acted weird, he'd sought her out. That was a good thing.

She found Clint and Ivy waiting in line to joust.

"Where'd you run off to?" Clint asked.

"Zavien showed me the new addition for the ice rink. The locker room is...nice."

"Right," Ivy said. "The locker room put that smile on your face."

Before she could confirm or deny Ivy's suspicion, Jaxon spoke from behind her.

"Did Zavien grace you with his presence before he ran off to see Nola?"

What the h.e.l.l? Clenching her fists, she turned to reply. "What business is it of yours?"

His eyes shone like shards of ice. "I thought you didn't want to be someone's mistress."

"I'm not."

"His marriage pet.i.tion has been approved." Jaxon's voice held a mean edge she hadn't heard in a while. "That means you're officially the other woman."

"What is your problem?" Smoke drifted from her mouth. The line moved, forcing her to retreat a step.

He moved closer, crowding her.

Ignoring the line, she stood her ground. "I'm not a mistress. This is different."

"Is it?" He tilted his head like he was confused.

That old I want to set his hair on fire feeling returned with a vengeance. "It is different." She had proof. "He's taking me to the fall dance."

"Is he?"

The air of disbelief that radiated from him p.i.s.sed her off. "Yes, he is."

"If you say so." He pointed behind her. "It's your turn."

Good. She needed to vent some frustration before she gave in to her natural instincts and shot the mother of all fireb.a.l.l.s at Jaxon's stupid head. Climbing onto the podium, she accepted the jousting stick. Her opponent was climbing the ladder to join her when Jaxon approached and said something that made the boy climb back down, allowing Jaxon to take his place on the opposite podium.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He spun the jousting stick in his hand. "Isn't this your dream come true?"

Why was she arguing? Crouching in a defensive position, she swung at him. He blocked the blow. She braced herself for the return strike. He stood there smiling.

"h.e.l.lo? Aren't you going to swing at me?"

"No. I plan to deflect your blows. Eventually you'll become overconfident, swing too hard, and fall off all by yourself."

She wanted to shove the jousting stick down his throat. Instead she swung at his shoulders. He blocked her blow, knocking her jousting stick downward. Since he wasn't striking back, she turned in a circle and used the momentum to hit his thighs. Take that. He wobbled.

Noise from the students below caught her attention. They had an interested audience. She spun again and struck at his hips. He deflected the blow with more force, and she had to shuffle to maintain her balance.

"This is stupid," she said.

He laughed. "Cla.s.s ends in ten minutes. Try again."

The corners of her mouth turned up. Wait a minute. Why am I enjoying this?

She swung again and aimed at the middle of his jousting stick. One of his hands came loose, but he didn't lose his weapon.

"Well played," he said.

"It was worth a try." Her shoulders ached from using the drum earlier, and jousting was beginning to wear on her.

She swung at his hips. He pivoted and brought his weapon down on top of hers with force. Caught off guard, she slipped and fell off the podium.

"Dammmmn ittttttt." She landed in the pit of foam blocks, glaring up at Jaxon, who was grinning his a.s.s off. Losing sucked on a normal basis. Losing to him sucked worse.

She punched one of the foam blocks and struggled to sit up. It was like trying to climb out of a pit of marshmallows. Great. Now Jaxon would see her flailing around like a fish out of water. She needed something solid to grab on to. Twisting toward the edge of the pit, she reached for the wall.

Pain, razor sharp, bit into her thigh, making her cry out. What the h.e.l.l is that? She held her breath and tried not to move.

Jaxon appeared at the wall, ready to gloat. "What's wrong?"

"My leg." The sponges shifted, jerking the object sideways. Ripping, wrenching pain stole her breath. She gasped. "Something's...stabbing...me."

Chapter Five.

"Stop the joust," Jaxon called out.

Clint and Ivy showed up at the side of the pit.

Jaxon pointed at Clint. "Find Mrs. Anderson."