six
Crackling Wards and Burning Hands
“And yet you came with nothing to actually draw the wards,” the asshole says.
I’m getting really tired of calling him asshole.
“That’s because I just got here and haven’t unpacked or gone to the store yet, Mister…?”
I leave the end hanging so he can fill it in, but he doesn’t. We stare at one another for an awkward beat before he scowls.
“So, you just expect I’ll come with the proper equipment?” he asks.
“No, I have a pencil,” I say, showing off the tiny nub Nai Nai used.
He leans down to inspect it, and my stomach drops out from under me. His dark coal eyes track over the tip of the pencil,then down my fingers to my wrist before they snap back up to my eyes.
“That will be sufficient for tonight.”
I clear my arid throat. “Great. So, what can I call you?”
“Whatever you like,” he says, turning for the coffee bar.
I follow him behind the drink station. “I’m trying to ask for your name.”
“I know.”
I groan. “Can you just tell me your name, please?”
He stops abruptly and I bump into his wings. They’re hot, but incredibly soft and airy, like touching a burning cloud. I have the insane need to touch them again and get wrapped up in them.
Suddenly, his wings disappear. He whirls around and glares at me with narrowed eyes.
“Why do you want my name?”
I throw my hands out to keep from putting them anywhere on his body. “Because it’s pretty rude to just be calling someoneassholein your mind all the time.”
He moves into my space and I step back against the edge of the coffee bar. His hands come down on either side of me and I yelp, but none of my fighting instinct comes to the surface.
“It’s also pretty rude not to tell your name to someone who’s asked,” I say on a trembling breath as he leans down into my space. He’s so close, the heat radiating off him soaks into my skin, just like in the shower. I find myself wanting to bask in it.
“You’re not trying to use it to do something nefarious?”
“I don’t know how to do nefarious things with names,” I murmur, my face yearning up toward his like a plant seeking sunlight.
His gaze traces my features and I feel inspected, but not in a crude or clinical way. He’s really looking at me, seeing me. Does he like what he’s seeing?
Gods above and below, what iswrong with me?
I clear my throat. “I’m Jiahui, but most people call me Jade.”
“Jyah-hwey…” He says my name slowly, even getting the proper inflection. The sound sends a tremor down my neck to my stomach, and I clench my thighs together.
“Okay, so, that’s my name,” I say, ducking under his arm and escaping the cage that was driving me mad. “What’s yours?”
He turns to face me and advances again. I’m up against the other wall. It’s starting to feel like we’re a snake and a badger dancing around one another, one trying not to be bitten, the other trying not to be eaten.
There are no caging arms or leaning in this time, but he steps close enough that his heat batters my skin.
