Why did he want to play chess with me? Surely, his motives were twisted. And then it hit me. “It’s not going to cost me anyfeathers.”
“What?”
“If you’re trying to mutilate myappendages—”
He sputtered, and then he laughed, and it wasn’t dark and slimy but melodic and deep. I had to remind myself that he was laughingatme.
“Ruining my wings isn’t a game,” I said, pinching my shoulders together as though to safeguard my invisible wings from Jarod, even though I’d ruined them far more than he evercould.
And forhimof allpeople.
He sobered up immediately, and then one of his eyes twitched. “I . . . I . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I . . .” Jarod at a loss for words?That was a first. “I didn’t suggest playing as a way to hurt you. But if you don’t want to—if you’d ratherleave. . .”
The look he wore was so at odds with his usual, intractable confidence that my protective stance slackened. “I thought you couldn’t stand the sight ofme.”
His hand was still on his neck, but he was no longer scouring his skin. “Last night, I felt cornered. I don’t like to feelcornered.”
“I didn’t mean to corner you, Jarod. Or to scareyou.”
His lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “Scareme? Don’t give yourself too muchcredit.”
“Why did you leave, then?” I twisted my long hair and let it unravel over my shoulder, its brassy shine a close match to the copper jam basin, which hung over the kitchenisland.
“Because I needed to think, and for some reason”—he reached over and slid the lock I’d been toying with between his fingers—“I can’t do that aroundyou.”
What was it with him and my hair? “Is it my hair color that distractsyou?”
“Hmm.I can’t decide if it’s orange orpink.”
“It’s sort of both,” I said, watching the heavy fringe of lashes shadowing hiseyes.
“Rose gold.” As he ran the strand through his fingers, his knuckles grazed the skin of my collarbone and then the side of mybreast.
I stepped back, and my hair fanned out from his fingers and settled over my heaving chest. “Why do you enjoy making meuncomfortable?”
“That wasn’t myintent.”
I pushed my hair over my shoulder and crossed my arms. “Whatwasyourintent?”
“I’m not quite sure anymore.” His gaze stroked up my throat. “Can I ask yousomething?”
“You can ask. I might notanswer.”
His lips quirked at my response. “Why did your skin emit light lastnight?”
I moistened my dry lips. Out of all the questions, he had to ask thatone.
One of his eyebrows lifted. “So?”
“I’m choosing not to answer.” I squeezed my fingers around my biceps and took another step back, as though if I stepped far enough away, the question would sink into the void between us andvanish.
He smirked. “Is it veryterrible?”
“No, it’s notterrible.”
“Then, why can’t you tellme?”
“Because I’m not allowed to disclose information about us to humans,” Iwhispered.
