She has no name.
She has her knives, her training, and her halo.
The first and second give her the ability to defeat the opponents she is pitted against each month. The third frees her from pain and fear. From any kind of emotion at all. Everything is as it should be. Everything is as it should be, until…
Fear… Pain… Anger… Happiness… Desire… Guilt… Love. When a newly named Kit escapes the Sanctuary after killing her best friend, the last thing she needs is another knife in her hand. Or Ryka, the damaged, beautiful blond boy, whom she refuses to let save her. The sights and sounds of Freetown are new, yet one thing is familiar: the matches. The only difference? Where the blood in the Sanctuary landed only on the Colosseum floor, Kit will quickly learn that a river of red runs through Freetown’s very streets.
Without her halo, the inhabitants of Kit’s new home consider her saved, but is that really the case? Would she be better off free of the guilt associated with all the blood on her hands, or is the love of one boy worth living through all the pain? Raksha is the call of the dead. It is the rumbling chant for fresh blood from the other side, the demand for sacrifice. The Colosseum is behind Kit. The fighting pits await.
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I mmm doubtfully,
scratching Jada behind her ears. She seems to like that. Cai’s face is gone
now, although who knows how long the reprieve will be. When I look up, Ryka is
watching me pet Jada.
“She likes you,”
he says.
“You sound
surprised.”
“I’m not. My sister’s
a good judge of character. If Liv likes you that pretty much means everyone
else will. Including my fickle dog.” He whistles softly and Jada pricks her
ears at the sound.
“And you?” I ask.
He smiles.
“Seriously?”
I nod, and Ryka’s
mouth pulls up to one side in a way that makes my heart race. He looks wicked.
“Well, we’re
friends. In that weird way where you’re eternally mad at me, and I’m eternally
imagining what you look like naked.”
“What!” I go to
slap his arm but he ducks out of reach, grinning. From the way my insides react
to his words, it feels like I’ve swallowed something entirely too hot. Is this
normal? Is this what liking someone feels like? It’s confusing and frustrating
and frankly—okay, I’ll admit it—kind of wonderful. But what the hell am I
supposed to do with that? How do I change who I am, sixteen years of fighting,
a life of blood? How do I trade in all that confrontation for something a
little sweeter? I think it’s probably too late.
“I really didn’t
do myself any favours when I met you, did I? You still don’t trust me?” Ryka
tips his head forward, smiling ruefully at his feet when I shake my head. “In
that case I suppose it’s pointless asking if you’ve fallen in love with me
yet?”
The boy is
determined to make me die a death this evening. It’s all I can do not to choke
as I shake my head. “Sadly, no. I don’t think I want to kill you anymore,
though. So there’s that.”
In the moonlight,
Ryka’s eyes bow as he smiles broadly. “There is that. We’ll have to see
what we can do to change your mind, though. I’ve never been very good at
waiting for anything I want.” He shoves me gently with his shoulder and my
heart stumbles.
“You want me?”
Ryka’s smile is
devastatingly sharp. “You own me, remember. And now, after the other
night…well, I guess I kinda own you, too.”
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