Arena

by Holly Jennings

  Despite what I thought was a great speech, my teammates still didn’t falter from their skeptical attitude. I didn’t blame them. Derek was right. I was changing our entire plan right before the last match of the tournament, the final before the championship. I could only ask for one thing.

  “Please, guys. You need to trust me.”

  Derek looked at Rooke, who leaned casually against one of the pods.

  “You’re fine with this?” Derek asked, noting his calm demeanor.

  “She’s never let us down,” he replied. “She’s led us to victory ever since she took control of the team, right after Nathan died. Even while she was dealing with all of her own shit. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, and I don’t doubt her.”

  I had to clench my jaw to keep it from dropping open. Rooke thought I was strong? Even after the pills and everything else? But hell, there was some truth in his words. I’d pushed through the tournament and led the team all while dealing with my own issues. How come I never realized that myself?

  Rooke stared at Derek until his gaze flicked to mine, dead-set serious. He wasn’t just saying it to convince the team. He meant it. Every word.

  Derek shifted his weight and glanced back at the girls. They traded looks with each other before he spoke for them.

  “All right, Kali. You got it.”

  We dispersed from the center of the room, each going to our own pods. I nodded at Elise, sitting at the workstation, before climbing in. When the doors closed, I was immersed in a grayish darkness. I took a deep breath and focused, grounding myself in the real. Sterile air filled my nose. Excitement and determination flooded my veins from head to toe, until I felt like dancing inside the pod. The pod’s shimmering innards pulsed with iridescent energy as the wires began their slow, ticklish crawl over my skin. I exhaled, lay back, and closed my eyes.

  Time to kick ass.

  CHAPTER 18

  The virtual world was different now.

  Standing inside the tower, with the wind whispering in my ear, I felt both close and distant from this place. The familiar scents of lavender and mountain air brushed against my nose, and the taste of wheatgrass danced across my tongue, sensations I’d long associated with being in my true element, with being home. Now, it was something else. Merely a place to showcase my talents. As glorious as it was, there was something to be had in the real world, too. Behind the towers’ stone walls, even the lavender and the wheatgrass and the mountain air, was programming. It was code. Nothing more.

  Since I’d started playing these games, I’d always viewed the virtual and the real as two separate entities. The sun-soaked baths of this world against the dreary grays of the real. Organic versus synthetic. But now, they were two parts of a whole. The virtual world couldn’t exist without reality, and with virtual programming permeating so many aspects of society, it seemed the real couldn’t exist without a little fantasy. What’s life without make-believe? But I’d spent too much time in the fantasy. Now, it was time to value the real and everything it had to offer.

  The rhythmic beating of my teammates’ footsteps echoed down the dirt path and faded into the distance, leaving behind a heavy silence. Streams of sunlight broke through the barred windows high in the tower’s walls, cut off by the beams overhead, splicing the sun’s rays into fractured spotlights on the floor. The wind danced along my skin and rustled my hair. Despite being inside the game, the voices of the announcers filled my head.

  Losers’ bracket finals tonight. The winners go on to the championship round.

  I balanced on the balls of my feet, waiting, muscles tense and relaxed at the same time. The sword gripped in my hand was a part of me now, an extension of my limb. My heart beat soundly in my chest. I was ready. I closed my eyes and took a breath. Everything was still. Peaceful. Inside and out.

  A peace broken by Rooke’s constant pacing.

  His shuffling feet scraped against the tower’s stone floor as he crossed over the same invisible line again and again. Why was he so anxious?

  Rooke stopped in front of me.

  “You nervous?” he asked in a murmur, so the cameras wouldn’t pick up the audio.

  I drew a deep breath and slowly pushed it out. “No. I’m ready.”

  Footsteps echoed up the path.

  “They’re coming,” I told him.

  The enemy burst through the tower’s entrance. Three of them, all men. Not bad, but not as many as I’d hoped.

  We went back-to-back in the center of the tower. I breathed, calm and steady. The trio surrounded us, two positioned in front of me while the other baited Rooke. A grin touched my lips.

  Let’s dance, boys.

  They attacked, and not without skill.

  Metal clanged against metal as our swords met. Sweat beaded along my hairline as I swirled and ducked against two enemies at once. Rooke and I fought with our backs glued together. The muscles in his back moved in correspondence with mine. Like magnets. I leaned forward, and he bowed back. One warrior with four arms. Three hundred and sixty degrees of death. Zero blind spots. No weaknesses.

  A scream cut through the air behind me, and I knew Rooke had nailed his opponent. A body collapsed on the tower’s stone floor.

  The heat from Rooke’s back left mine as he circled around to fight at my side. A few short blasts against his new opponent, and he jabbed his sword straight through his heart.

  Our remaining opponent charged straight for me, weapon drawn back. I caught his swing as he brought it down and redirected him to the side.

  Rooke rammed into him, full speed. He tumbled back, rolling several feet away. Rooke followed through, taking a few steps ahead. What the hell was he doing? Protecting me? I was going to rip him a new one. If this wasn’t the finals match, I would have taken him out myself.

  He glanced back at me, winked, and knelt on one knee, back facing me.

  My breath caught in my throat. There was ten feet between Rooke and me, and another ten beyond him to our opponent. I’d seen this before.

  The simulation in the gladiatorial arena.

  Time to fly.

  I bolted just as our opponent stumbled to his feet.

  My feet swept across the ground and up Rooke’s back. As I reached his shoulders, he stood and held his palms up. My feet landed in his hands, and he catapulted me into the air.

  I flew.

  Time slowed, as if I could actually feel the broadcasting switch to slow motion. Sword reeled back, single knee bent, I was a Valkyrie. An angel of death.

  I slammed into my opponent, driving him to the ground and my sword up and into his chest cavity until the very tip broke through his mouth and pierced his tongue. His eyes went wide and never moved again.

  That.

  Was.

  Awesome.

  I stood tall. There was no crowd here. No glorious applause. I didn’t need it. It pumped in every cell, through every vein.

  There was no sudden jolt back to reality. No signal overhead. My teammates really were drawing out the fight, showing off every aspect of their skills. They had followed my command.

  We had time.

  Rooke turned to me, scowling.

  “Nice going, Ling,” he spat. “I nearly had to handle that myself. You could at least show up next time.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I immediately snapped back, as if the conversation was planned. “I had two of them on me.”

  “Oh, please. You only survived because I stepped in and saved you.”

  I reeled.

  “Saved me?” I shouted. “I could’ve handled both of them blindfolded. You’re just pissed I showed you up.”

  “Showed me up? You’re too full of yourself to see—”

  “Me too full of myself? Try looking in the mirror—”

  Our voices started overlapping each other,
both shouting at the top of our lungs as the argument spilled into a full-blown fight. All in front of the cameras. Darn. What a shame.

  I stepped closer. “—You’re such a pompous, haughty jackass, I’d rather have a five-year-old on my team—”

  He stepped closer. “—You’re so frustratingly independent, I’m surprised you even know how to lead anybody—”

  “—What? You acted like you were too good to be on a team the second you showed up—”

  Another step.

  “—Oh yeah? You act like the virtual world should bow to you—”

  Another step.

  “—You’re so fucking arrogant—”

  Closer.

  “—You’re so damn stubborn—”

  Closer.

  Then, as the gap between us disappeared, our armor clanked together, and our voices grew until they echoed off the tower walls, he kissed me.

  His lips were just as soft as I remembered, when I’d first kissed him in my bunk and he never responded. Now, he held nothing back. His mouth met mine, again and again, every kiss full of wet heat and little nips that sent jolts of adrenaline through every vein.

  He pulled away just as quickly.

  I stared at him, blinking. His expression mirrored my own, completely stunned, with his mouth slightly agape. The kiss had been planned. The argument had been planned. But that incredible spark of electricity? Soooo not on the checklist.

  The kiss left behind a tingling on my lips, and I almost cried out when he stopped. But he stayed close, keeping me wrapped in his arms, as he studied my face. I studied his. The soft curves of his lips. The stubble dotting his jaw. The warmth lingering from his touch, where his hands now rested on my waist. In that moment, I wanted him. I wanted him and nothing else. Judging by the need in his eyes, he felt the same.

  I pressed my body against his, and captured his mouth with my own. He tasted like an autumn night. Dark, woody, and sweet. Weapons dropped to the ground, thudding against the dirt. His hands grasped my chin, his skin rough and blistered from wielding swords and staffs. A warrior’s hands. They slid into my hair and clamped down, forcing my chin up. I gasped. He chuckled against my mouth, and when he kissed me again, his tongue brushed mine.

  Holy camoly. I swear I had knees just a second ago.

  Warmth sweltered inside the tower, swirling around us. But nothing compared to the heat pounding inside me. His lips covered mine, again and again. A hand pressed into the small of my back and drove me up against him. Armor plates clanked together. I wrapped my limbs around him, intertwining my body with his. Where skin met skin between the breaks, heat sparked and sizzled until we were melting into each other. In that moment, we were one.

  Until a jolt of reality tore us apart.

  CHAPTER 19

  Okay. So, yeah. I did that—on national television.

  For a reason.

  The seven-figure tabloid reward for our first kiss was shot to shit. There would be no grainy photos of a stolen moment outside the clubs, or on the roof of the facility. Sure, the magazines would still be pushing for pictures of us together. But no one—not even Clarence—could tell me how and when to be with Rooke now because I already had. In front of everyone. On my terms. Not theirs.

  I opened my eyes to the pod’s interior, panting and trembling. My head swam, and my hands shook. Every part of my body tingled, though I doubted it was from plugging in. I closed my eyes and counted my breaths as I negotiated with my hormones to take a step back. Turns out, I’m a bad negotiator. Virtual or reality, they wanted only one thing.

  Rooke.

  The pod’s doors retracted. I pulled myself out and met Rooke’s stare. He stood in front of his pod, staring at me, blinking, as if he couldn’t fully process what had just happened between us, whatever he had felt, or was still feeling. Hell, I half expected him to touch his lips to make sure they were still there.

  Around the room, the programmers stared with wide-eyed, openmouthed expressions. Guess we weren’t the only ones who’d been surprised by the kiss.

  My teammates pulled themselves out of their pods, glanced around, then exchanged looks with each other. They might have been unaware of what happened in the arena, but they were picking up on the awkward tension in the room.

  Elise rifled out of her chair. “That was a hell of a show!”

  Hannah looked around again and took a step toward us. “What did you do?”

  On the screen above the door, the footage cut to Marcus Ryan and Howie Fulton, the VGL announcers. They sat behind their booth, blinking for a few seconds, stunned. Then, Marcus shook his head and cleared his throat.

  “Defiance wins,” he announced, his voice wavering with shock. “Uh . . .”

  “They are your losers’ bracket finalists,” Howie finished for him, coming into his own. “Stay tuned as we go through highlights of the season and prepare for the championship round.”

  The theme music played, and the camera started to pull away, but not before it caught the tail end of their conversation.

  “Well, I guess that’s why they’ve been staying in so much.”

  “I think we found the climax for tonight’s highlight reel.”

  “Probably won’t be the only climax of the night.”

  Then, an off-camera voice shouted, “We’re still on the air!”

  I smiled, never thinking that in a world so perfect, I’d be so happy to see a crack in the façade.

  A hand came to rest on my shoulder. I turned. Hannah stood directly behind me. “Seriously, what did you do?”

  She glanced between me and Rooke a few times. I looked up at him, wondering what to say. He shrugged. “We could demonstrate.”

  I reeled back to smack him when Elise poked her head around her screen. “Kali, Clarence wants—”

  “To see me. Yeah, yeah.” I started for the exit.

  “No. Both of you.” She motioned at Rooke.

  “Of course.”

  I grabbed Rooke by the sleeve and led him out of the pod room. Inside his office, Clarence peered at us over the steepled fingers pressed against his lips. I was beginning to think that was his favorite pose. It made him look both powerful and insightful at the same time, for those who didn’t know better.

  “You can tell the tabloids I’ll take my million dollars in small, unmarked bills,” I told him.

  “Those don’t exist anymore,” Clarence replied.

  I smiled. “Neither does the reward for our first kiss.”

  My smile grew even wider. Up yours, tabloids.

  “Yes. Now they want more.” The cell phone wrapped around Clarence’s wrist buzzed. He glanced at it. “The phone hasn’t stopped ringing, mostly from sponsors. They all want you, both of you, to be the face of their campaigns. Clothing, however”—he cleared his throat—“won’t be part of the shoots.”

  I swallowed.

  Wow, did the air density just triple in here or what? Well, that little plan just turned around and smacked me in the face. Yet my gaze slid to Rooke in the next chair, still dressed in his pod suit. Just what would I find beneath?

  Rooke spoke up. “Again, I’m not entirely opposed.”

  My fist itched for action until the cell phone buzzed again.

  “Why aren’t you answering it?” I asked Clarence, seizing the chance for distraction.

  “Keeps them desperate. Makes them think I’m already busy with others.”

  My heart fluttered. I’d just found my out. “So I guess it’s a good thing then for us to stay inside the facility where no one can see us. You know, leave them desperate.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Think about it. All this came about because no one saw us together for a week. After that matchup, that kiss, people will be knocking down the doors to see us. And if we don’t let them, if we stay inside, no sponsors, no photo
shoots, nothing, guess what that will do for the popularity of the tournament? If the only place where people can see us together is in the championship match, then everyone will watch.”

  His eyes glazed over as he considered it.

  “Think of the ratings,” I added. “The most-viewed championship in history.”

  More glaze. He rocked in his chair a little, though I doubted he even realized he was doing it.

  “Yes, yes,” he said, nodding. “That’s a good idea. In fact”—he paused—“maybe it’s best for everyone on the team to stay in until the championship round. It will add more mystery to all of this.”

  I pressed my lips together to stop them from spreading into a smile. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Right, well,” he began, eyes still shining like sugar-covered doughnuts. “Good job. You’re dismissed.”

  Rooke and I left the office and walked silently down the hall, no sound other than our feet padding along the corridor. We stepped into the elevator. The doors closed.

  I exploded.

  I screamed. I jumped up and down. I tackled an unsuspecting Rooke against the elevator’s side, still screaming and jumping.

  He laughed. “I never thought you’d find a way to convince Clarence that staying in to prepare for the fights was in the best interest of the team.”

  “It should be the norm,” I said. “For every team. And we should be able to have some free time once in a while.”

  “Yeah, right.” He laughed again. “Why don’t you go back in and ask for that? You seem to be on a roll.”

  “That’s all right. I like my head still attached to my body.”

  The elevator doors pulled open and we walked through the facility’s ground floor. A commotion pulled us into the rec room, where my other three teammates sat poised on the couch across from the wallscreen. Lily sat in the middle with a bowl of popcorn in her lap. All three were still dressed in their pod suits, as if they’d run straight from the pod room, and the idea of changing was irrelevant. Rooke and I hadn’t changed either. At least we looked like a team.