Orion (3 page)

I sucked in the breath, and with my only drawback, my vocal cords, let out a smooth, swooping motion in a blur of two seconds flat, landing all four smack inside the center of the target.  My eyes never left his face.

My body still in a leaned forward lunge, I froze with a smile that I soon hid quickly and bowed my back upward to continue to look at him with the best doe-eyed look I could give this poor boy to ease his embarrassment.  Not!  So didn’t happen.

The whole gym roared with applause.  Mummers of “wow” and “awesome” and “bad-a” and “she
’s better than Calum” came from every direction.  I drowned out the inane chatter of the crowd.

I would never forget the moment this breathless beauty of a boy left his mouth hanging in a giant O pattern while staring straight at me and I at him.  I saw him swallow deeply at the fol
d of his arms and knuckles turning white. 
If he mad or embarrassed, I didn’t feel it.
  There wasn't an ounce of fear.

I tossed my jaded eyes back up to his dark, unreadable blue ones.
  Yes, there were definitely a darker shade than before as if the blues lightened and darkened based on his moods.  His mouth closed now.  He straightened and stood taller with his thread-like dripping coils of hair hanging in his eyes, lowered his arms, and finally uttered as if amused, “So you don’t need a knives lesson, I’m guessing?”  He was either saving his dignity or inviting me to something else.  Which one, I wasn’t sure.  I tossed my loose hair back over my shoulder in an attempt to peek at the roving eyes across the crowd.

I nodded a satisfied no.

“Do you speak?”  He opened his palms and crushed his arms low to his side.  He showed me a small grin, but a frown drew his brows together.  My eyes followed his arms down.  His followed my mine to my hips. 

“Are you asking for lessons?  S
ure, I’ll teach you,” I shrugged.  At the first sound of my voice, he gave a “aha” expression but then processed what I’d said to him.

That made his face screw up.  H
owever, he lapsed back into tough guy and answered, “No, but I could teach you a few other things,” he lowered his tone hinting at something else.

That comment brought the crowd around us a measurable laugh.  Especially the guys!

This bad boy look didn’t fool me.  He had some hidden depths beneath him somewhere.  But oh, how the fear was back now.  He couldn’t sense my ability to sense it nor could I find its source.

I shrugged, “Interest is the key.  And the daggers I
’m throwing hit the mark every time.  No room for let downs.”

This was my inner fire.  My cold heart shining through.  I couldn
’t afford any emotional ties.  Not even a hot looking Hunter boy who was simply that, a Hunter.

“You wouldn
’t be let down, I assure you.”  His smile thwarted a few giggles from nearby Hunter girls.  More like Amazon girls once I let my eyes skim the closing in on us audience for a second.

I, Stace Rohkea, alias to hide my identity as the sister to the kidnapped prince of my court stand a mere four inches shy of six feet, curvy, but not too skinny, creamy complexioned, and long blind you in the sun blonde hair, stood out among the rest of these bronzed muscle bound all brunette Tarzan girls. 

If anyone asked, I was a Hunter who was the product of a father who mated with a human and therefore produced an “abnormality” of sorts.  I wasn’t happy with the scenario, but couldn’t think of a more convincing story to explain my differences.  For now, it would have to do.  Now that I was here, I stood out like sheep in the wolf’s den. 
But I will do the butchering.

He loosened up when he saw the coach approaching and walked to stand beside me.  Dark and dangerous brushed my shoulder again.  Almost as if h
e was trying it out to see if another shock happened again.

Coach inched
over and whispered something to the Hunter boy.  Then coach stepped back and grunted to me, “Perhaps knives aren’t what you need right now.  Is there anything else you can’t do, or need practice with, or are we all going to watch the ugly duckling take us down one at time.”

That was uncalled for.  I don
’t know why, but I peeked at the dimples beside me for his reaction.  His face was in shock too. 
Hmm! 
“Hearing my achievements recited is with certainty, a gratifying thing, but I fail to see what point you are trying to make.  Perhaps, you’ll just have to find out one at a time,” I said smiling the best of my sinister smiles in storage.   I wouldn’t back down or show weakness.  I’ve already let dimples see some.  I’ll have to remedy that.

“Fine!  Calum take her to the archery range. Then we will show her the pit when she
’s tired out.”

So
they think.  I needed chocolate badly.

Coach looked at dimples.  Calum.  That
’s his name.

Calum turned to me when coach walked away.  “You make enemies fast.”

This comes from the arrogant Hunter boy.
“Not intentional.”

“Calum,” he held out his hand to me and I watched, “my name.”

“Stace,” I finally told but didn’t take his hand, just crooked my back and looked for the archery range.

“Okay, you talk much,
ever
?”  Both arms were back at his side now.

“If the conversation is mildly interesting,
yes
.  Vulgar and rude,
no
.”  Could he be any more maddening? I couldn’t tell what he might be thinking.  He’d followed me in the shadows all morning.  I was intrigued, for sure.  Making headway, not!

“Let
’s start over,” Calum winked and threw a killer smile in my direction. 

“What
’s done is done.  A jerk by any other name is still a jerk.” Hello, Dr. Jekyll.   Information and whereabouts and then I’ll get myself kicked out of this place.

“Fine.  But for the record,
the reputation they set for you doesn’t come close to what I’ve seen Miss Irritable and—

Hi
s flippant attitude annoyed me so I wheeled around from finding the archery center letting anger show too much, “What is that supposed to mean.” 
Hej! 
I reverted back to my silent self-inflicted reprimands in the native tongue my father insisted I learn at the early age of three.  I was fluent in three languages.

Calum seemed to like that he had my att
ention back to him.  “Just that rumor was you were an easy kill.”

I wasn
’t sure if he’d had another meaning or if it meant simply that.  Either way, I was saying too much.

“We
’ll see,” he decided faltering his step a little from where he stood by me, “but my bets are wavering.”

I wanted to smile with intention, but wouldn
’t give him the satisfaction.  I left him standing there, too close to me anyway, and headed to the archery range feeling like Moses parting the Red Sea.  It was too much of a thrill to stand this close to him and I really wasn’t sure why I felt this way, but I moved through the crowd in a silent evasion.  It was like a buzzing burst of pain and comfort syncing together. 

Our hands reached the weapons stand holding the bows at the same time.  When the silent argument ended with him taking the bow I wanted, I sneered so quietly I did not think it would register, but he let it go and gave it back. 

The bow eased back having been used often.  I liked
my
bow.  I
missed
my bow.   I picked up the arrow, licked my finger and smoothed the feather though I knew this did very little for this particular arrow.  I knew every eye was watching once more for the new girl now going for round two.  If they want a show, they will get it.

I reversed and looked at Mr. Hyde, aka Calum, in the shady part of the room and watched his stance nervously move back and forth. 
I wondered if anyone else noticed his nervousness.  If it was a regular habit.

I smiled my best devilish smile at him, nodded once, and turned to the target.  He wanted my attention, and he was getting it.  I pulled the string, arched my back, leaned the arrow into my cheek, let my tongue slip out slightly parting my lips, scoped my aim, and released.  It hit dead center.  Since I didn
’t need to lunge forward at archery I left my body facing the target for the audience’s reaction.  I wanted to see Mr. Hyde’s reaction specifically.  But, I didn’t.

Instead I waited for a second, then picked up another arrow, turn
ed, and handed them both to Calum without looking him in the eye.

He took them and I opted to look up since his hand was still attached to the bow I held.  I knew his mind was remembering the crowd by the look in his eyes.  He
’s easy to read, I thought. Lots of fear now.  Real fear. 

I wonder if others read him so well.
  His eyes looked down to mine and told me his man-pride would kick in. My brother was skilled heavily in it.

He took the arrows, jerked them away, replaced them in the holder and picked out a larger bow and different arrow.  He stepped back farther than where I
’d stood to shoot and bent the end of the arrow shaft just slightly.  I watched eagerly, really wanted to see him do this, not sure what the outcome might be.    I looked to the others watching and felt the challenge in the face of the smart-mouthed coach who would see me fail!  If I wasmade to prove myself, so this boy would too. 
He
started this. 

Calum arched his back and I watched the muscles flex in his arms and back again.  He scoped his aim.  I couldn
’t help myself, I wanted to know if he was as fallible as I imagined.  He came off as a cocky, sure of himself, show off.

  I was only four feet away from him.  Daringly, I walked closer to him standing two feet closer from his arched right-handed arm.  I very quietly whispered close enough for only him to hear, “I know a secret
.”  I don’t know what overcame me.

And his arrow released simultaneously and hit the target, separating my arrow in two.

He didn’t relax his stance, but his eyes were watching mine with me still standing only two feet away from him.  We weren’t facing each other, but both of us could feel the heat rolling between us.  His was mostly anger, but I sensed more.  Mine was adrenaline.  I loved shocking others.

After a second he moved, replaced the bow, and walked right up and pu
t his face to mine separating us by inches.  His mouth parted like he was going to say something, but didn’t.  He leaned and faced the crowd and bowed.   I followed suit.  They cheered as though the pretend show was a standing ovation and started chanting, “One at a time.”

I slid my smile open for him trying to make it more of a mean-like smile, but I couldn
’t help the overwhelming feeling that this little rivalry was causing.  It was amusing to see someone match my own.  And he seemed as equally amused.  My brother was my only equal, and I still mastered everything over him.  Yet I still held back.  These Hunters couldn’t see my true nature.

His hand ges
tured towards the slingshot.   Following him, we put on another winner show for the crowd with both equally hitting our target dead on.  He purposely stood too close to me this time.  Whether he was hoping to cause a distraction or some other reason, I could only speculate.  But I managed, barely, to still hit my mark.  I’d never admit to him or anyone the nerves he set off.   Something was odd about him that reminded me of myself.  His energy or abilities or something else.

The tomahawk axe blade proved as equal.

Next the swords.  This is where he would see my downfall.
I briefly debated faking a bathroom break like I would the boys back at court knowing he would see my weakness now.  I could choose to leave this weapon behind if I wasn't so intent on seeing this through.

“The pit.”  He simply stated. 

I stepped up to the folded out mats and removed my shouldered pouch I’d left on my side until now.  I really wanted to tell him I was too tired, or not warmed up, or just plain not coordinated at a swing back and forth action.  I’m more of a singular weaponed person who acted from a fixed position.  But I climbed further onto the mat anyway padded and ready.

A plain silver sword in hand, I stepped up.  We bowed, crouched, and he whispered through his teeth, “
Begin.”  He made one mistake.  As he moved in a little closer with his sword raised, he whispered once more, “I won’t hurt you.”

I squinted my eyes in anger, “But I will.”

His stunned look still there, I swung at his head.  He guarded it of course, but not without an even more dazed look spread across his face.  We parried back and forth for over a minute with him guarded and increasingly attempting more daring moves on me, but with care not to hurt me.  I desperately needed a break, but wouldn’t give him the pleasure.  It wsn’t tiredness, but constant attack and strong emotions built together made me weaker.  I hated it!

He was sweating profusely, and noticed I hadn
’t broken a sweat yet.  He had to be wondering if I was really a Hunter though he hinted he knew more.