“You haven’t been translating outside the Academy, have you?” he asked through gritted teeth.
I frowned, confusion knitting my brows. “No, I haven’t. You told me not to. Why are you deflecting?”
“I’m not,” he replied, his tone flat, but the lie clear on his face told me otherwise.
“Kind of seems like you are.” I searched his features for any crack in his composure.
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
“James?” I whispered, my fear creeping into my words. “You don’t know anything about this, do you?”
“No,” he answered, almost too quickly.
I waited for him to relax again, before continuing my line of questioning. “Do you think my issues have to do with my haze being untraceable?”
James froze for a split second, barely noticeable, but I saw it. Then he relaxed, his response calm though tinged with fatigue. “I don’t know, Emma.”
“You’re being cagey,” I bit out, frustration bubbling up. “Why are you being cagey?”
“What?” His voice took on a defensive edge.
“It’s like you’re holding back, so spill it—what do you know?”
“Emma, I’m worn out.” He let out a breath, the fight draining from his posture. “I’ve had a horrible few hours thinking something had happened to you because you weren’t answering me. I’m not being cagey, I’m simply tired. I was worried sick about you and now, I’m drained.”
I stilled, and instant regret washed over me. I hated that I’d made him worry. I hated that he was hurting. But I also hated being made to feel like I was overreacting for wanting answers.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling small, and exhausted by our fight. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” James said softly, his voice still gentle despite everything. “Do you want to go to sleep?”
I still hadn’t told him about my new ability to heal myself, but for some reason, I wasn’t ready to share that yet. It was too new, too personal, like a secret I felt compelled to keep to myself a little longer.
Plus, my body screamed for rest.
“Yeah,” I whispered, then leaned into him as he pulled me closer, pulling the blanket tighter around us.
For now, I’d keep my secret. Tomorrow could bring more questions, but tonight, I needed to forget—if only for a little while.
We fell asleep like that, holding each other, wrapped in the quiet comfort of shared exhaustion.
The next morning, I woke to the smell of something delicious and the sound of soft humming. My head throbbed, which reminded me of the amount of Scotch I’d consumed the night before. I groaned, then rolled over in the couch, and tried to bury myself in the pillow.
James chuckled from the kitchen, and I squinted at him. “Good morning, sunshine,” he teased, his demeanor far too cheerful for my hungover state. “How’s that head of yours?”
“I think it’s about to split open,” I mumbled, dragging myself upright.
“Yeah, thought so,” he grinned, then waved his hand to translate a strong cup of coffee. “Here, this should help.”
I let out a deep breath, rose to my feet, and walked over to him. I took the cup gratefully and inhaled the bitter aroma before taking a long sip. “You’re a lifesaver,” I muttered.
“Mm-hmm,” he smirked, moving toward the seating area. With a flick of his wrist, breakfast appeared on the counter—eggs, toast, and burgers perfectly laid out. “And that’s why I’m making you breakfast,” he added, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Nothing like greasy food to cure a hangover.”
I beamed up at him. Damn, the guy knew how to make my heart swell. “You know, I might have never loved you more than I do right now.”
He laughed—a deep, rich sound sending warmth flooding through me. It was a laugh he so rarely made, and every time I heard it, I felt like I was catching a glimpse of something precious, something only for me. And I melted, completely undone by him.
James came over to me, leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against my lips. It was supposed to be quick, but I couldn’t help it—his closeness, the scent of him. I pulled him in deeper, kissing him harder, my hands finding their way to his chest as his fingers tangled in my hair.
