“You don’t find it charming?” I rasped, watching her. I would never be able to drag my gaze away.
“Should I? Charm doesn't seem to be part of your nature unless I've been reading you wrong all this time.”
“I can be quite charming when I choose.”
“I won't hold my breath in anticipation.”
I adored her wit, how she teased. But Merrick was right. Tonight, I had to work with her magic. Not drag my tongue across her skin.
“Allow me to state that I'm here at Merrick's request and only for that reason,” she said. “Nothing else.”
“You don't crave my company as much as I do yours?”
She grumbled. “You don't crave anything from me.”
“I believe I've already shown you what I crave.”
She tilted her head to look up at me, and though her gaze narrowed with irritation, her eyes showed me she was already struggling to maintain her guards. To keep me from seeing thatshedidcrave me. “Shadow magic. Nullification if that will keep you on course. This.” She held up and lit her index finger, then pointed it at the floor and etched a swirl into the stone with her fire. “As you’ll note, I’ve started to master this one on my own.”
When the puff of smoke she’d generated with her drawing cleared, swept away by the brisk wind passing through one window to exit out another, I smirked. “Add an R to the L, Wildfire, and perchance a swirling heart, and it’ll be complete.”
She stomped over to stand above the area. “That’s not an L.”
“It’s an L. It stands for Lore. Me.” I moved up behind her, resisting the urge to nudge her hair to the side with my nose and press my lips against the sensitive skin on her nape. “I didn’t realize you had a soft spot for me in your heart.”
“I don’t.” She pretty much bolted away from me, not stopping until she’d reached the stone wall and pressed her back against it. I could follow her. Cage her with my arms and then devour her, but . . .
Kindness. Civility. Encouragement.
Even I could sense if I didn’t try, I’d drive her away and next time, even Merrick wouldn’t be able to convince her to meet with me again.
“A truce?” I held out my hand. Would she dare take it? I hadn’t given her any reason to believe I wouldn’t trick her. Why was this so hard for me?
Oh, yes. I knew why.
She stared at me for a long time, assessing me. Judging me, I was sure. I remained stoic, struggling to project an image that would come across as non-threatening.
An impossible thing.
Yet her shoulders loosened. She took one step toward me, then another. Finally, she stopped in front of me, glaring at my hand. “What are the terms of your truce?”
“Work with me, and I’ll . . .”
“Leave me alone?”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“You should.” Her voice cratered. “Please. You have to. I can’t—”
“But you will.”
“Conclude your terms.” The sharpness in her eyes would cut the stone beneath our feet as easily as her finger. “Agreeing to work with you is essentially granting you a favor.”
“You offer a favor?” My slick smile grew. “Now, isn’t that intriguing?”
“You know what I mean. None of that fae favor crap. You won’t manipulate me into anything like that.”
“We could call it a soft favor.” I tightened my spine. “Agree to work with me each evening and in exchange, I won’t touch you unless you beg me to.”
