touched the skin of a Sanguinar. Cozy alcoves were filled with comfortable leather sofas where kids could study, watch TV or play games.
The second he was through the glass doors leading outside, he saw her. As always, Lyka drew his complete attention, glowing like sunshine incarnate. He wasnâtsure why such a prickly woman would appeal to him on such a deep level, but there wasnât much he could do to stop it.
Heaven knew, heâd tried.
As he watched her talking to the kids, the searing pressure behind his eyes began to fade. There was something magical about a beautiful woman, and Lyka was about as beautiful as they came. Long golden hair. Soft golden skin. Bright golden eyes. He couldnât stare at her too long without feeling the need to shield his eyes from the glow.
Every move she made was filled with the sinuous grace of her kind. She took after her mother, showing off decidedly feline attributes beyond her catlike eyes. There was an alertness about herâa kind of intense awareness of the people around her. He knew that if he got to within twenty yards of her, sheâd sense his presence.
He didnât want that yet. He liked looking at her too much for her to know he was doing so. Maybe staring at her wasnât appropriate, but he couldnât seem to help himself. And he sure as hell wasnât about to tell her that she was so beautiful that merely watching her had the power to ease his pain.
He only wished he could find a way to stop wanting her. There was nothing quite like groping a manâs sister to ruin a perfectly good peace treaty.
As he continued to watch, he realized that she was directing children in the open play area, though what was going on there was like no form of play heâd ever seen.
The kids were grouped by size. The largest four were in the center of a clearing, being watched by several smaller children. The big kids were clustered together, snarling at one another and grappling for supremacy as they tried to knock one another out of the ropeboundary laid out around them. They used teeth and fingernails, elbows and knees. The blows were real, leaving behind both bruises and blood.
It was a small wonder that a broken arm had been the worst of the damage these kids had sufferedâat least the worst Joseph knew of.
Lyka stood at the sidelines, shouting instructions to the kids. After a few seconds, she put two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. âTimeâs up!â
The kids stopped what they were doing and scrambled to line up at attention. One of them was limping. All of them were bloodied, even the young girl whoâd been fighting right alongside the boys.
Josephâs first instinct was to rush over and see to their wounds, but he forced himself to stay where he was, out of Lykaâs sight. It was the only way he was going to see exactly what she did when he wasnât watching.
Lyka strolled in front of the kids, studying them. She lifted the girlâs arm, inspecting her wounds. One of the boys raised the hem of his shirt to show her where heâd been bloodied. After she was done looking at them, she pointed at each of them as she counted. âFour, three, two, one.â
The boy whoâd been labeled one thrust his fist in the air, jumping in victory. The girl beamed at her second place, while the other two boys were clearly unhappy with their ranking.
Lyka addressed the rest of the class. âWhat did Hank do right?â she asked. âWhy did he win?â
The kids started discussing moves and strikes, but Lyka deftly steered the conversation more toward battle tactics and the combatantsâ traits.
âHe wasnât afraid,â said one of the kidsâa new girl whoâd only recently arrived at Dabyr.
Lyka turned to Hank. âWere you afraid?â she asked.
âYes, maâam. Maryâs got a wicked bite.â
The kids laughed, but Lyka kept going. âHe didnât let
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins