The vampire rose, his silver-blue eyes glowing with savage need. He was about to lose it. If he went for my neck, I’d have to shoot him, and I really didn’t want to do that. It wasn’t his fault my weird hair was a trigger for bloodlust in vampires.
I’d just have to put his energy to better use. I concentrated on his mind, on that spark of consciousness buried beneath a firestorm of instinct—and I grabbed onto it with everything I had. His consciousness retreated further, seeking refuge in the depths of his mind. I didn’t let it go. I poured my own will into him. I didn’t have a lot of magic, but what I did have was enough to get me in. And once I was in, his mind was mine. Compulsion was a game of mental gymnastics, a war of willpower. And there were few people who could match me in raw stubbornness.
The vampire stopped in front of me, the silver-blue sheen of his eyes fading out. He stared down at me, a blank slate. I gave him a big smile. In a burst of supernatural speed, he was suddenly on the bar, cartwheeling across the countertop in a series of stunts that would have made a top-tier gymnast green with envy.
“You really are the bringer of chaos,” Stash told me, then he ran after the cartwheeling vampire, trying to knock him off the bar.
I drew another mark under my name on the napkin Jace and I were using to keep score.
“That was…showy,” Jace said.
“You’re one to talk. You had a fairy spell out your name in knives on the wall.”
“That was a test of precision mind control.”
“Yeah, yeah, tell that to the scoreboard.” I showed him the napkin. “I’m ahead, goldilocks.”
“The people you picked are drunk, so they’d do anything you tell them anyway. With the way you’re dressed, it doesn’t take much convincing.”
I was wearing a dark red minidress and black boots, so he might have had a point.
I smirked at him. “Was there a compliment buried somewhere in that excuse?”
“Gods, no. I know better than to hit on Colonel Windstriker’s girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.”
He gave me an indulgent look. “You keep telling yourself that, Leda.”
“We haven’t even gone on a date yet.”
“Yet,” Jace repeated with emphasis.
“Ok, yes. He asked me out, but he’s been out of the office more than he’s been in lately, so we haven’t actually been on a date.”
“That hasn’t stopped you from making out with him in the library.”
How could he possibly know about that? Nero had found me in the library, reaching for a book on the reading list he’d given me to prepare for my next Legion level. The bookcases in the Legion’s library were too high, obviously built with angels in mind. That created problems for those of us with our feet stuck on the ground.
Nero had plucked the book from the high shelf for me. One thing had led to another, and before I knew it, I was tackling him against the bookshelves, books raining down around us.
A sigh escaped my mouth. Kissing Nero was a dangerous pastime—an addiction, a gateway to dark and deadly seductions. And I was already in too deep.
“When is the last time you saw him?” Jace asked me.
“That day in the library last month.”
And that little rendezvous had certainly left its mark. He’d kissed me like I was the only woman in the world, and then he’d just left. That angel was playing a game with me, a game I didn’t even know the rules to, a game I was beginning to realize I’d lost before it had even begun.
“You’ve got it bad, Leda,” Jace said, chuckling.
“Oh, shut up.” I tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “You’re one to talk. Rumor has it you and Mina are getting pretty cozy lately.”
The smile wilted from his lips. “Mina and I are just friends.”
“You just keep telling yourself that.”
He clenched his jaw. “We should get back to practice.”
“Then, by all means, impress me.”
“Compelling someone is about controlling them, inside and out, body and mind, every sliver of self-control, every thought. There.” He pointed at two groups of men facing each other down. They looked a hair’s breadth away from breaking out in a fight. “What do you see?”
“Shifters versus witches, the epic showdown.”
He didn’t laugh. “It’s one thing to convince someone to do something they might do anyway. The true challenge is in convincing them to do something they don’t want to do.”
The shifters and witches suddenly stopped, eight men completely frozen in time. A moment later, they clapped their hands, the synchronized pop echoing over a lull in the music. A stomp followed. A turn. A twist. They broke out into a coordinated dance, like they were caught in a musical. Spinning, spiraling, circling, lifting. On and on they moved, not enemies but partners. Pivoting, prancing, snapping, tapping.
“That was cool,” I said to Jace as the shifters and witches finished their musical number. Their faces red, their eyes turned away, they parted ways too embarrassed to fight. “So much control. Every step was perfect. You should do shows.”
“Siren’s Song isn’t a party trick. It’s an important skill. It helps the Legion rally its troops. It diffuses problems. And learning this ability builds up a soldier’s resistance to mental control.”
“Did you swallow the Legion handbook?” I asked him.