Free Captivated (Talented Saga #3.5) by Sophie Davis

 
    Talia
     
     
    The tension in the arena was
palpable; the spectators’ emotions ranged from sheer astonishment
to reluctant admiration. Few, if any, of the people watching the
trials thought I’d make it this far undefeated. Proving them wrong
felt good.
    The four challengers that I’d
already faced were decent fighters, but their Talents were no match
for mine. Their minds had been easy to control, their wills easy to
bend. This final adversary would be the true test of my skill; Mac
had promised to save the best for last, after all.
    “Ready?” Mac asked, placing a
large hand on my shoulder. The cat-that-ate-the-canary gleam in his
steely gray eyes caused my heart to pound. I fisted my hands at my
sides to stop my fingers from trembling, not wanting to display my
nerves. A pledge position with the Hunters was within my reach, as
long as I didn’t screw up. That knowledge should have calmed be,
but it had the opposite effect.
    Mac squeezed my shoulder, more of
a warning gesture than one of fatherly support. He was reminding me
that my future hinged on the outcome of this last match. A win
would cement my place among the Hunters. A loss would prove my
doubters correct, and give the Placement Committee the ammunition
they needed to refuse me a spot with the same.
    “Let’s finish this,” I said with more confidence
than I felt.
    Mac signaled to the referee with a
wave of his hand, letting him know I was ready to face my final
combatant.
    With four wins under my proverbial
belt, I should have been confident that the dark-haired guy
standing in the middle of the arena was going to be the fifth
notch. But his self-assured grin and lackadaisical stance caused my
stomach to roil. He exuded poise and determination that I couldn’t
match.
    You can do this , I told myself. You have to do
this.
    Failure was not an option. Not
only did my future career with Toxic hinge on winning this next
fight, so did avenging my parents’ deaths. If I never became a
Hunter, I would never have the opportunity to find the man who’d
made me an orphan.
    I strolled to the center of the
mat, head held high, and mind focused. My expression was blank,
showing absolutely no emotion. The short walk gave me time to size
up my opponent, gleaning every detail possible from his mental
projections and filing them away for later use.
    There was nothing exceptional
about the guy’s appearance, unless being gorgeous counted – which
it didn’t, I reminded myself after staring a little too long at his
brilliant turquoise eyes and lop-sided grin. Focus, Talia , I mentally chastised
myself. Strangely, the guy chuckled softly at this, almost as
though he’d read my thoughts.
    Every eye in the gymnasium
followed me as I took my position, the combined weight of several
dozen gazes pressed down on me until I felt about two-inches tall.
The hum of excitement emanating from the spectators’ brains grew to
a dull roar inside my head. My steps faltered. This hadn’t been the
case for the previous four rounds. At best, many of the onlookers
had projected mild interest, but most casual indifference. They
seemed to know something I did not. Sure, this last opponent would
be stronger, faster, and all-around better than the others, but
those facts hardly warranted the suffocating level of anticipation
in the arena.
    While the referee finished
conferring with the judging panel, I studied my opponent closer. He
was several years older than me, eighteen or nineteen if I had to
guess. A green bandana kept shaggy black hair from falling into
those beautiful eyes. An adapti-suit – just like mine – covered his
entire body, emphasizing his lean, muscular frame. I thought I
recognized him. There was something familiar about his lithe,
graceful movements, the determined glint in his eyes. Both
completely at odds with the amused smile he offered me when we
shook hands.
    His palm was warm and dry and I
immediately felt the need to apologize that mine was still