Enemy Within Read Online Free Page A

struggling to keep the point of her weapon out of his flesh. It was a point as graceless as his had been elegant. He slapped the flat of his blade against her backside as she passed. She yelped at the sting and heard an instructor’s voice say in her head, Get mad, get dead . The Art of the Blade had always taught, control your anger or be controlled by it .
    They were wrong. Anger dumped a powerful cocktail of drugs into the human body. Eyesight sharpened. Hearing became more acute. Thoughts sped up. Heart rate increased delivering more oxygen to muscles, making them supple and fast. It was a dangerous, heady high; a bloody, razor-sharp, double-edged sword that a fighter learned to control or was disemboweled by.
    Somewhere in the past fifteen years, she’d learned to dance that razor’s edge. She craved it, thrived on it. And she’d had enough of playing games. It was time for Cullin Seaghdh to learn a few lessons of his own. At the tip of her blade.
    “Lesson three . . .” he began.
    Flush with ire, Ari launched a smooth, fluent attack that instantly wiped the smile from his face. Lesson three. Never, ever challenge someone to a fight until you ask how many first-place medals she has in the weapon. Seaghdh gave ground and kept giving. She drove him. She’d have been lying if she didn’t say he made her work for it. He did, but savoring the play of muscle, the coordination, the flash of the blades, and the sweat beading on his upper lip, she relished every last millimeter. She felt the smile on her face. She’d taken his measure while he’d mistakenly thought he’d taken hers. He was good, very good. With lives at stake, Ari had to be better. Lucky for her. She was.
    Her father’s look hadn’t changed one whit at the sudden reversal of fortunes, but Seaghdh’s men stood tight-faced, fists clenched. Concentration lined Seaghdh’s expression and a gleam of appreciation lit his eyes. Uneasiness flashed through her. How could he appreciate being beaten? Or was he still dueling with more than one weapon and willing to sacrifice victory in one for an advantage in the other? Blood and awareness rushed low. Ari faltered.
    Seaghdh riposted, meaning to beat her blade out of his way and take his point. She made sure her weapon wasn’t where he expected. Ari lunged, dropping to one knee, and swept her blade up. It hit and bent against the heart symbol on his jacket.
    They froze. A flick of her wrist and the tip of her energy blade would slice through force field, muscle, and bone and embed itself in his heart for real. A click sounded at her ear.
    “Back off,” one of his men growled.
    She eased the pressure on the blade and raised her eyes to Seaghdh’s face as she rose. He stared at the hole in the heart on his jacket. His crewman plucked the weapon out of her hand. Anger drained from her, leaving behind a familiar, sticky residue. Even the drugs supplied by one’s own body produced unpleasant side effects.
    Cullin Seaghdh turned his gaze to her. At the glitter of intensity in his eyes, Ari backed up a step. He closed the distance in two strides. He had a blade. She was unarmed, but she refused to run. If he meant to kill her, she preferred to see it coming.
    He clapped a hand to her shoulder and shook her once.
    “You played me,” he accused.
    “Yes.”
    “Well done!” he rasped. “Few blade masters of your skill would have let me humble them before family and friends.”
    Surprise fluttered through her. She flushed at the unexpected praise and at the heat of his touch, cursing at the same time how badly she craved both.
    “Well done,” he repeated for her ears alone, squeezing her shoulder.
    Ari studied his face, the thread of unease twining within her once more. The Art of the Blade was a game, one designed to make your opponent underestimate your skill. Could she ever know for certain that Cullin Seaghdh hadn’t just played her?
    Had that been what the delay in decon had been about? He’d been trying