I go completely still the same moment I come fully awake. Sometime in the night, my skirt had ridden up to my thighs, and I had tucked one leg snugly between Ethan’s. At least he still has his pants on, but I can’t say the same about his shirt. He must’ve chucked his bedraggled T-shirt before he climbed beneath the blankets last night. I can’t blame him. In fact, I want to applaud him for a decision well made as I lay draped over his naked chest, a hand spread possessively over a perfect pec.
I want to do all kinds of things. I want to run my hands down his torso to feel the ridges of his ridiculous abs and then lower to his ... My eyes flicker down of their own volition, and I suck in a sharp breath. His hard length is straining against the confines of his pants. Gods, I want to slide my leg over his waist and grind my core against him until the ache coiling in my sex eases.
I do none of those things because my sanity is intact. With a wistful sigh, I sit up and slap him on the chest with a resounding thwack. “Wake up, lazy ass. We’ve got work to do.”
“What kind of work?” Without opening his eyes, he shoots out his hand and pulls me back down against him.
“I forget,” I say weakly as he nuzzles my neck. I tilt my head to give him better access. “But I think it has something to do with not dying. Oh, yes. I remember now. We need to figure out how to use the sacred ashes. Samshin Halmeom didn’t make that part clear.”
Ethan sighs against my neck and stops the delicious thing he is doing. I tell myself it’s for the best, but I kind of want to pout and sulk. He flops back on his pillow and throws an arm over his eyes. “I guess that means the last few days weren’t a bad dream.”
“What kind of sick mind would dream up something like that?” I scramble to my feet and straighten my skirt, patting it down and shaking it out much longer than necessary.
He sits up on the sleeping mat, one arm resting on his drawn-up knee, and watches me with hooded eyes. “But that means I did taste your sweet lips last night.”
“Oh, man.” I smack my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “My mouth feels gnarly. I should go brush my teeth. I don’t think salt is going to be enough to get rid of my hideous morning breath, but the house probably doesn’t have any toothpaste.”
I run outside like a coward even as Ethan’s low laughter licks at my skin. Wait, what if I really have morning breath? Cupping my hand over my mouth, I huff and sniff. It’s respectable, but I might as well brush my teeth since I said I would. The house provides me with a small bowl of coarse salt, a washbasin, and a pitcher of water. Tucking my skirt between my legs, I crouch on the ground and dutifully dip my finger in the salt. I rub it over my teeth and tongue, grimacing as my mouth goes numb. I pour some water into the basin and rinse out my mouth, then scrub my face clean.
I plop down on the raised platform in the courtyard. Now what?Oh, for fuck’s sake.I can’t hide from him forever. We actually have work to do. Really important work. We have to find out how to use the sacred ashes to defeat Daeseong. We can’t live on the run forever, and we sureas hell can’t let the dark mudang get away with Ben’s murder. But where can we learn more about the sacred ashes?
TheBook of Answers. Of course. I scramble to my feet. How could I have forgotten?
I run to the house and jerk open the door, just as Ethan pulls a pair of hanbok pants over his bare ass. When he spins around in surprise, I don’t have to manufacture the scowl on my face. It happened too fast. I didn’t get a proper look.
“Sorry about flashing you,” he says, misinterpreting my expression. He hurriedly pulls on the matching shirt, covering his glorious torso. I frown harder. “I asked the house for some clean clothes, and it gave me this hanbok.”
I mutter something incomprehensible as I stomp past him and go to the low dresser at the back of the room. I yank on its small door, and the house creaks in protest, affronted by my rough handling of its furniture.
“Sorry.” I gently open the door the rest of the way and sigh in relief. The handsewn booklet is still there. “Thank you for keeping it safe.”
Mollified, the house scoots a low table toward me, and I place the book on it. Its cover is made of only slightly thicker paper than the pages within, looking as innocuous as ever in faded brown. Without my having to ask, a tray with a block of ink and a brush appears next to the book.
“What is that?” Ethan sits down next to me.
I turn to him and open my mouth to answer, but his eyes drift down to my shoulders, then my breasts. I’m still not wearing a jeogori. Blushing bright pink, I scramble for my cropped top and push my arms through. I botch the single-looped bow in the front, but at least I’m all covered up.
I reclaim my seat in front of the table and answer him as though I’d been fully dressed all along. “It’s theBook of Answers.”
He opens the cover and frowns as he flips the pages. “It’s blank.”
“That’s because we haven’t asked it any questions yet.” Excitement bubbles up at sharing the book with Ethan. He hasn’t seen much good in magic, and we both could use some good in our lives right now. “What do you want to ask?”
As a child, I never sought any life-altering answers from the book. I asked things likeWhy do I have to study?It answered,So you can eloquently ask ridiculous questions like this.OrWhat do you do when you’re not answering our questions?It said,I wait with bated breath for your next scintillating question. Except I’m a book, so I don’t breathe. Nor wait.What can I say? The book had an attitude problem. Hopefully, the years have mellowed it out.
“I could ask anything?” A corner of his mouth quirks up in a lopsided smile filled with wonder.
“I think so.” I hope I’m right, because I really could use some answers. But before I delve into the mysterious powers of the sacred ashes, I want Ethan to have his fun. “Come on. Try.”
“Wait, can I write in English?” He picks up the brush and frowns down at it.
“I have no idea.” I take the brush from him and wet it with a bit of black ink. “Here, I’ll write it for you.”
“Thank God. I can read Korean by sounding it out, but that is the extent of my foreign-language skills.” He chuckles sheepishly. “Okay. Ask it how old I am.”
“Oh, wow. That is deep,” I deadpan.
“Just ask, smart-ass.” He bumps shoulders with me. “I want to establish a baseline.”
