But none of us knows what it does, and no one is brave enough to experiment with it.
Mor finds creating her own magical artifacts safer. The original cuffs were described to give the wearer the strength of five werewolves and last as long as the wearer had them on. Mor’s version goes for about an hour and gifts the strength of a werewolf with a cold. Still, they’re good enough to help a mortal compete with mythics in a backyard cricket game.
Anthony, trying to show off, decided not to use a set. Hence why he cannot handle the balls that Jack bowls him.
Zara, meanwhile, makes contact with the ball just fine. The harpy is probably the best player on the field, scoring the most runs and winning the day for her team—which also happens to be Sanjay, Anthony, and Ophelia’s team.
I’m on the losing side, but I forget that fact as I watch the gorgeous firebird dance and cheer with her teammates. Everyone praises her throwing power and accuracy, and for a brief moment, there’s not one hint of orange in her aura.
Happiness blots every negative emotion out.
Ophelia jogs up to me, wearing a wide smile, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with an internal fire that can only be fueled by joy.
“That was invigorating. I want to play every weekend.”
Sanjay, who is passing by close enough to overhear, grins and laughs. “That’s what I like to hear!”
If nothing else, I think that Anthony should thank Ophelia for being such an enthusiastic participant. She might be the reason that my brother wins total approval from Zara’s father.
“Are you worn out?” I ask. “Or … would you like to cool off in the lake?”
The offer might seem selfless, an opening for her to continue her swimming skill work. But in truth, I have another motive.
I’ve had to share the firebird all morning. Now, I want her all to myself.
Ophelia’s eyes widen, and she blinks slowly. Her smile doesn’t disappear, but her expression takes on an edge of determination.
“The lake,” she says with a nod. “I want to cool off. And I want to practice. With you.”
Ophelia sways toward me, and the moment I open my arms to welcome her, she presses our sweaty bodies together, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“You’ll have to tell me if you ever get tired of this,” she whispers into my shirt. “Because I don’t think that I ever will.”
Something inside my chest grows, explodes, reforms, and transforms in a thousand other ways. The simple, affectionate words, filled with vulnerable honesty, wreck me and rebuild me.
I cradle the back of her head in my hands and tilt her head until her golden eyes meet mine.
“Trust me when I say, I will always want your arms where they are in this moment.”
Ophelia’s smile softens. “And you said your brother was the charming one.” Her fingers press into my back. “That did not sound awkward at all to me.”
My gaze drops to her sweet lips that say such perfect words. I want to kiss her almost as much as I want her to keep holding me. But I won’t do anything to risk this gentle affection she hands out only to me and so freely.
“Just give me a moment,” I rasp, my throat scratchy with want. “I’m sure I’ll start babbling about something nonsensical soon.”
Ophelia chuckles, and then her lids drift halfway shut, and I could swear that she’s staring at my mouth now.
“If you start to babble, is there anything you would like me to do to help you stop?”
Could she be hinting at what I think she is?
“Feel free to shut me up in whatever way you think is appropriate. Using whatever part of you that you think is appropriate.”
“Anytime, anywhere, for as long as I want?” she asks with a teasing note.
My body clenches at the idea, and I choke out a single word.
“Exactly.”
