“The entrance,” he elaborates, taking my silence for confusion. “I don’t get much of a warning when it happens.”
“That makes two of us.” I tear my eyes away from the green to turn back to the closet. Glad for an excuse to stay occupied, I robotically go through the motions of placing shirts on hangers and setting them on the rail.
“Right,” he mutters after a moment. My ears follow the sound of movement behind me until he comes into my peripheral as he settles in by the window, leaning half of his body against the wall. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He takes a long, deep breath, gazing outward in silence. It’s like we’re both trying to pretend we accept this strange situation, being so out of control with our own lives.
He may not be up for chitchat, but I don’t want to drown in silence this time. Grams always said that you learn the most about a person by looking in between the lines. Maybe if I can just get him talking . . .
“So what do you think so far?” I glance up at him, keeping my hands busy with the laundry.
“Of what?”
I clear my throat, ignoring the way his hypnotic voice pulls at me. “My world.”
“It’s . . .” His head shifts toward me, tilting. “Bright.”
“Bright?” Turning away from him to sort my folded clothes into drawers, I smile slightly at that answer. “Wow, we’ve certainly made an impression.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I have to resist the urge to turn my head and look at him. “I’ve . . . not taken the time to really look around.”
I snort, finding more amusement in this conversation than I probably should. Maybe it’s because all the weirdness in my life is finally taking its toll on me, and it turns out humor is a fantastic coping mechanism. Or maybe it’s that starting the evening on a lighter, sarcastic note makes it hard to take anything afterward too seriously. Whatever the reason, my mood is shifting with each moment of our conversation, and I’m rolling with it.
“Well, since you’re here,” I place the last pair of jeans in my bottom drawer and turn to face him, “I may as well give you some more insight.” His eyes narrow, like he’s suspicious—as he should be. “I’m weeks behind on the rituals, so I guess that’s a good place to start.”
Whirling around, I head to the nightstand. I’m totally just winging this, which is not easy when someone likehimis watching your every movement, every look. His gaze burns into my back as I pull the drawer open and withdraw a small box of playing cards supplied by the inn. I stroll to the loveseat and plop down, positioning myself into the nook on the right side and crisscrossing my legs. Glancing up at him, I raise an expectant eyebrow. “I’m going to need a hand for this. Rituals cannot be done alone.”
His brows lift, and I feel a small pang of satisfaction at finally being the one to surprise him for a change. “I won’t know what to do.”
Ha, you and me both. “It’s okay.” I pat the empty space beside me. “I can show you.”
He waits a beat, and though his face betrays nothing, I’m sure he’s deliberating whether or not to agree to this.
“Who knows how long you’ll be stuck here this time, and itismy room, so . . . please?” I don’t know if it’s thepleasethat does it or what, but he seems to concede when he gives a small nod and walks toward me.
When he lowers himself beside me, it’s an instant reminder of how drastically his large build dwarfs mine. His broad shoulders take up more than half of the petite loveseat, and though the width of his frame tapers off where his hips narrow, the way his legs are positioned, slightly spread out, counteracts that. He takes a breath and leans back, running a hand through his dark hair, then turns his head and looks straight into my eyes.
Holy hell, suddenly we are way too close to each other. I swear I’m burning up, his fiery heat brushing over every inch of my skin.
“Where do we begin?” he asks, and I take a deep breath. The low sound is even more hypnotic when it’s coming from directly beside me.
“Okay.” I pull my shoulders back, attempting to regain some of the composure he apparently melted right off me. “These,” I hold up the playing cards, “are the key to any modern-day human ritual.”
Once I see that the cards have his attention, I open the red and white box, then carefully pour them into one hand, as though I wouldn’t fathom mistreating something so valuable. I split the deck in half, adopting a formal tone as I fake-explain my actions, shuffling the way Grams taught me years ago.
“I’ll do this part myself, since it really depends on a balanced chi to be effective. This is what we call abridge shuffle, and it’s one of the more complex things our ancestors teach.” I don’t dare look up at him, knowing I’m about one step away from losing it. I really don’t know how far I can take this. Once my subpar shuffle is complete, I fan out the cards in my fingers and extend them toward him. “Here is where you come in. Pick a card. Any card.”
I don’t know what I expect. For him to somehow realize I’m full of it? To lose his patience and stalk off?
Instead, he stares long and hard at the cards, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together, as though my fate is entirely dependent on his next move. “Any card?” he repeats quietly, not breaking his focus.
I shouldn’t find it so captivating, even endearing, seeing him like this: out of his element yet so determined to get it right. “Yep. Memorize the front of the card once you do, and be sure not to show it to me.”
He slowly leans forward, his thigh brushing across my knee as he picks a card. I swallow hard, breaking my gaze away and returning it to the cards remaining in my hands, while he lowers his own to his lap.
“That’s good,” I mumble, splitting them down the middle. With half the deck in one hand and half in the other, I rest my wrists on each crisscrossed thigh. “So, once you have it memorized, slide the card on top of either of these stacks.”
His eyes drop to my thighs, leisurely traveling from one to the other, then back again, practically burning holes straight through my pants in the process. He shifts forward once more, slowly, carefully, sliding it onto the stack in my left hand. A vague vibration from the subtle movement strokes the palm of my hand. Without letting go, he returns his gaze to mine, and my breath catches in my throat. I’ve never seen so much green. It’s like the emerald blaze has backed the black-ice into a corner, and all of the mesmerizing flames are now centered on me.
“Just like this?”
