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She didn’t linger with the moves that failed to hit their desired targets. This was a beautiful dance with the promise of sweet red, and there was no time for either of them to pause and think. The wonderful throb of pain bloomed on top of her shoulder, but she relished it; the feeling of being alive and truly being in the moment.
An explosion arrived against her knuckles as well, but so much sweeter than the rest of her hurt areas. She was paid by gaining a temporary superiority, and watched him stumble and lose his not-so-secure grip on his staff. Flattened ears heard the vibrating, masculine growl loud and clear, but she wasn’t easily spooked by such things. She had looked the devil in the eyes and heard his evil laughter more than once, and nothing could compare. Nothing.
The Lykoi unleashed sharp claws at her. A rumbling sneer now escaped her gliding form as well, for she wasn’t overly fond of the idea of scars ruining her as good as perfect appearance. It was a small wonder she wasn’t maimed, considering what she had been through over the years, so it wasn’t acceptable for her to obtain deep wounds in a mere sparring session. But she could see her rage, and couldn’t help but become enticed by it. It wasn’t quite the same madness that she had seen in her father’s eyes, and that she knew lurked in her blood stream. But it was dark madness, and it was beautiful to her.
She avoided his hungry claws, and as he leapt past her she swirled around along with him. With her smaller frame, speed was supposed to serve her better than him. Claws kissed her ankles, but only barely, for she was in constant movement, and offered a low butterfly kick in the hopes of giving his face another beating. Landing on balanced legs, she drew back one foot or two, shifting her weight to prepare for the possibility of a powerful attack. Was the formal, polite man angry now?
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