Mind Tamer by Moriah Densley

Author:Moriah Densley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entangled, Select, Otherworld, paranormal, paranormal romance, X-Men, Virgin heroine, protector, tortured hero, Mind Tamer, Moriah Densley, superpowers, superheroes, magic, assassin
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2014-11-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

No one should drive a hard bargain with an artist.

— Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770–1827

It took Lyssa a moment to register that the winged emblem on Kyros’s T-shirt was the Aerosmith logo. Difficult to work up the necessary angst for a tournament when the man had such excellent taste. Athleticism became him; she tried to think of something other than the virility broadcasting from him in thick waves like a blues guitar on a radio station.

Oh, no, not the sappy metaphors, he taunted, and Lyssa took a swing at him with her imaginary racket.

She paused to listen for Mitch—deep in a REM cycle—then sprinted down the hall to get a head start. Not that she knew where she was going. Kyros led her from the barracks to the rec hall, and the crisp night air went a long way toward clearing her head. At every guard post, the soldiers snapped to attention and saluted the moment they recognized Kyros. She finally quit staring wide-eyed at the holstered pistols strapped to their thighs. Kyros always nodded and said, “At ease,” as they passed.

“What are you?” She meant it in context of the military, wondering why the soldiers seemed to think he was scary.

“All they know is the colonel reports to me, not the other way around,” he said with a flat smile.

It also meant he could use the racquetball court in the middle of the night.

She’d barely finished checking the laces on her shoes when Kyros jumped into the serving box the same moment he swung and nearly killed her with a blue missile. The thunderous yet comical pong noise was the sound of her missing the shot and Kyros making a point.

“Hey, no fair.”

“You’re too slow, Lyssa.”

The speed of the ball was Mach 3 compared to the well-behaved volleying she was accustomed to with Mitch. “Go ahead and take the point, particle boy. It’s the last one you’ll score tonight.” She laced her voice with innuendo, not above using distraction as a strategy. She’d need all the help she could get.

“Ready?” He bounced the ball, looking impatient.

“Going to talk trash all night or bring it on?”

She was ready for the next one, but her first few hits lacked coordination and power until she imitated the “snap-thing” Kyros did with his wrist to give the ball comet speed. Then she at least managed to make him work for it.

Following the trajectory of the ball and predicting the next play was already a full-time job—Kyros sprinted for the front wall in three long strides and leaped into the air to meet the rebound. She darted right, he slammed it into the front wall and sent it rolling back, to the left. Her mouth dropped open and she tried to close it. People should only move like that in video games.

“Point,” he crowed, not bothering to act modest. “Two-Oh.”

Okay, concentrate, she coached herself. In less than a minute, he herded her into the back corner and scored again with a low ball, a play she could only have countered if she’d been at the front wall instead of the back.

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