Chapter 57: The Heat Beneath Her Hunger
My legs coiled, charged, and released—snap—and I flung myself backward through the steaming air, skimming across the surface of the pool like a skipping stone made of sarcasm and sex injuries. I needed distance. Not for some clever tactical reason. I just didn't want to get stabbed again.
The moment I landed, I began shaping another psionic bullet in the air—one fueled by raw kinetic intent, a construct born of focus and orbital math. Onyx, of course, was already after me.
She didn't so much run as materialize in my blind spots. Her body was a black blur of death and legs. Every time I blinked, she was closer. Every time I thought I had a half-second to breathe, she had already inhaled it.
I'd been trying to slow her down with gyrokinesis since the fight began—manipulating her angular momentum, screwing with her trajectory, nudging her center of balance just slightly off so her timing would break.
No dice.
