“Our bond connects us on every level,” he continues, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. “My strength flows to you through it. Use it. Anchor yourself in it.”
I reach mentally for the bond, imagining it as a tether between us.
“Good,” Ryker murmurs, and I feel his approval through the bond like sunshine on skin. “Now, keeping that anchor, reach for your gift. Invite it.”
I’ve never thought of my visions as something to be invited rather than summoned or endured. The concept feels foreign but somehow right. I imagine my gift as a wild creature requiring coaxing rather than capture.
Show me, I think, focusing on Lithia’s presence.Help me see what she will do.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then, like water seeping through cracks in stone, I feel it—the familiar shift in perception that precedes a vision. But unlike the painful flood that usually overwhelms me, this is controlled. Manageable.
The world behind my closed eyelids changes. I see Lithia, but she’s moving in slow motion. I watch as she feints left, then shifts her weight to her right foot, preparing to?—
My eyes snap open just as Lithia launches her attack—the same feint and right-side lunge I’d seen. Without conscious thought, I step to the left, neatly avoiding her grasp.
The chamber falls utterly silent.
Lithia recovers, surprise crossing her features before she masks it. “Lucky guess.”
“That’s good, Kitara,” Ryker counters, and when I turn to look at him, I find his mismatched eyes blazing with triumph. “Try again.”
The realization crashes over me. I did it. I called a visiondeliberately, controlled what I saw and used it, all without pain.
“How?” I ask, staring at Ryker as if he might hold the answer.
“You stopped fighting your nature.” His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Your gift isn’t separate from you, Kitara. It’s woven into everything you are.”
“Again,” I say, surprising myself with my eagerness.
Ryker’s smile is slow and satisfied. “Lithia, continue. Dane, join her.”
As the two enforcers move to circle me, I hesitate, my nerves catching up to my courage.
“What if that was a fluke?” I ask quietly. “What if I can’t?—”
Ryker steps closer, pressing his palm to the center of my back, fingers splayed wide. “Then we try again until it becomes natural. I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod, then close my eyes. I reach first for our claiming bond. It’s easier now—less effort and more instinct. Ryker’s presence threads through me, steady and warm, grounding the chaos that usually threatens to unravel me.
I focus on Dane and Lithia, listening to the soft pad of their feet, feeling the shift in air as they circle me.
I focus, waiting for a blow but nothing comes. Frowning, I push toward my visions, searching for the same instinctive feeling that overtook me before. A headache blooms behind my eyes. My breathing stutters, and the familiar sharp edge of fear curls through my belly.
I can’t fail. Not now.
The pressure builds. My hands shake as I try harder, pushing, straining, desperate to prove myself.
“Stop.” Ryker’s voice cuts through my panic.
I gasp, slumping. He catches me, his chest pressing against my back.
“Breathe,” he instructs, holding me close. “Just breathe.”
One of his hands settles over my racing heart, the other cups my forehead. Slowly, I calm, and the headache begins to recede.
“You’re trying too hard,” he murmurs against my ear. “You’re forcing what should flow.”
“But I?—”
