Stumbling along behind Torin, I feel as though I’m in a trance. He seems entirely unbothered, plucking books from shelves until he has enough to build a small wall. We then return to the study room, where our reappearance goes entirely unnoted. Aster’s engrossed in his task and Jack is making an unsuccessful attempt at building a tower of cards.
Torin pulls up his chair beside me, his heavy thigh resting against mine. It sends my filthy mind reeling as I wonder which other parts of him might lie thick and heavy against me.
“You might need to adjust the direction of your thoughts,” Torin murmurs close to my ear. “If you want either of us to have any hope of concentrating on anything beyond your delicious scent.”
“My scent?” I murmur, recalling too late how his nostrils were flaring while he had me pushed up against the bookcase. “You can... scent me?”
“Your arousal,” he purrs. “But now’s not the time for distraction. You’ve got plenty of reading to do on mate bonds.”
He’s enjoying this. Maybe it’s payback for me squeezing his arse without warning. I glare at him for a moment before glancing at Aster who’s watching our exchange with an amused expression.
“Made another conquest?”he asks.“I’m not surprised, judging by the way he can’t take his eyes off you when you’re in the same room.”
I snort, but it seems he isn’t finished.“I’m a little jealous I don’t have his sense of smell.”
Cocking my head to one side, I inspect his expression and ask him in the Drakmal common tongue. “Hold on, you understood that? How did you understand that—” Torin can apparently smell my arousal... something I don’t want to actually give voice to or my face might actually burst into flames.
“I fixed him up with a universal translator,” Jack says casually.
My eyes widen as I let out a little shriek of excitement. “But that’s amazing!”
Then, remembering exactly what Aster just overhead, my cheeks heat again. But he doesn’t look horrified. Instead, his eyes are dancing and he gives me a lopsided smile as Torin nudges the book in front of me.
“Concentrate. We won’t get the chance to come back here again, so whatever you don’t read now will go unread.”
Oddly enough, his chiding tone has me squirming even more in my seat and Torin smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
He’s right, though and so I suck up my lusty thoughts and focus my attention on the mountain of books in front of me.
I’ve barely got through the first couple when Aster drums the tabletop with his fingertips triumphantly.
“Found something?” Jack asks, leaning forward eagerly until he’s peering over Aster’s shoulder. “Samuel Northcliff. This is one of the guys?”
“Her partner.”
I nod at the others. It’s not the sorceress herself, but it’s something.
Jack hums, resting his chin on Aster’s shoulder. “Yeah, I recognise the name. He’s a low-powered second son of a third-rate family.” He snorts. “That’s how my mother would describe them, anyway.”
He claps his hands together, grabbing the magic book and dropping it into his pocket. “They’ll definitely be at the dinner tonight.” He slaps Aster on the shoulder. “Nicely done.”
“So we actually have to go to this thing?” Torin grumbles.
Jack claps his hands together. “Of course. We need an opportunity to question this Northcliff person. Plus, it’ll piss off my mother to no end.”
Torin lets out a long-suffering sigh, before casually resting his meaty palm on my thigh. “I suppose we’d better prepare ourselves. Something tells me this is going to be a shitshow.”
Chapter 23
Reva
Acouple of hours later, I’m wearing a dress that isn’t my own, rooting through my bag for underwear that’ll work with it and trying to tamp down my rising panic. Jack’s taste seems very different from my own, but I have to admit the dress he picked out is gorgeous. My shoulders are bare and the skirt is so tight around my bum, most of my underwear aren’t going to work.
Too frilly. Too ugly. Too plain.
I don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. I’m putting on my armour to face a roomful of people just like Jack’s horrible family and I can’t help thinking that I’ll ruin the effect if I’m adjusting my underwear every few seconds.
My hands are shaking as I dig around, like I’m going to magically find a whole new set of clothes at the bottom of my bag. I pull out a pair of stockings that are a good two feet too long for my legs. They must be Frannie’s. I keep tugging and tugging until they unravel, bringing with them something hard that clatters onto the stone floor.
