“You can place it on the ledge there,” I state, sinking lower so the water laps at my chin. “Thank you.”
There’s a distinct tightening in my lower stomach as he continues to peruse me.
“You can leave,” I clarify, leaving no room for him to misinterpret my dismissal.
The West Wind twirls the soap lazily. His long, naked fingers possess remarkable dexterity for someone who I’ve never seen handle a weapon.
“Zephyrus—”
“What were you doing under the water?”
An unwelcome tingle rolls across my skin. “Praying.” Of a sort.
His impolite snort puts my back up.
“Do you have an issue with that?” I snap.
“Your friend has humiliated you by reading your journal and you choose topray? Seems rather avoidant.”
How little he knows of me, my situation, and my world. “Harper and I are not friends.”
“You give her too much power,” he says.
He dares speak of power when he is the one pulling strings? “I give her nothing.”
“Then what was that story about Harper and Isobel?”
I do not have to answer him. I do not have to even acknowledge his question, not for something as private as the heart. “I’m not discussing this with you.” My legs cross in an attempt to conceal the secret place where they meet. If I had more courage, I’d wipe that smirk off his face with the palm of my hand. Traversing the pool, however, is not an option.
He shrugs. “She will only use your jealousy against you.”
My mouth parts in astonishment. “Jealousy?” The word breaks, too loud, too revealing. “Jealousy?” Surely this is a joke.
The Bringer of Spring, however, does not laugh. He awaits my reply at his leisure.
“Why should I wish for anything Harper has?” I demand.
“You do not like the attention I give her. I have seen it in your eyes.”
“You are delusional.” A voice of cold I do not recognize flows unhindered across my tongue. “What I feel is certainly not jealousy.”
“Then what is it you feel for me?”
Why does this sound like another question entirely?
“You exasperate me to no end.”
“I do.” His eyes sparkle, and I’m momentarily stunned into forgetfulness as he eases forward, a trouser-clad knee digging into the soil. “Tell me more.”
“You infuriate me. You refuse to think of anyone’s well-being but your own. Your voice is your favorite sound in the world. You—”
He sidles nearer to the water, then stops. “I what?”
The dappled glow upon his face reveals both light and darkness. It is fitting. No matter how homely I find him, I’m unable to look away.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. Water sloshes into my mouth.
“Come now, Brielle. We’re friends, aren’t we?” The lovely melody of his voice seems to rein in the encroaching shadows.
