“And our last session: attacks.” Laken stood tall, an easygoing smile painted on his face as he rocked back on his heels.
Passing the dagger to me again, he continued. “Now, I’m going to let you come at me here.” He angled toward me, an amusement glimmering in his eyes, and motioned me to attack.
It took a moment to process. I snapped my head at him, brows furrowed. I must’ve heard wrong. Attack him?What the—?
Laken lit up with a laugh. “Go for it,” he teased. “You’re not going to hurt me, love.”
Love? Oh.I could attack easily.
I wrinkled my nose, flashed a mocking smile, and did as I was told. Lunging, I didn’t make it within a foot before Laken stopped me. A tight grip wrapped around my wrist, and as naturally as he flirted, he swiped the weapon from my hand. Twisting my arm behind my back and holding it there, his chest pressed flush against mine—with the dagger to my throat.
The air exploded and dissolved around us. Nonexistent, yet existing too intensely. Heat poured into my stomach, pooling lower and lower like lava. Each breath he took pushed against me harder.
Slowly, my eyes dragged from the dagger’s edge to his gaze. He stopped breathing, then blinked and quickly resumed. “Unhand me,” I said, my words a mere whisper, as that was all I could muster.
A wicked smirk curled his lips. “And that,” he emphasized, “is why this is important.” As he removed the dagger from my skin, I found myself missing its edge.
Stepping back, my boot slid in mud from the rain. Something similar to “shit” slipped from my lips. My knees buckled and even Laken lunging and wrapping his arms around my waist couldn’t save us.
He pulled me into his chest and took the brunt of the fall. He dropped into the damp grass and mud. I fell onto him, which in my opinion, was much,muchworse.
Hands on either side of his face, straddled over his body, my hair hung from where I hovered just inches from his face. From his lips. Laken’s full, familiar lips that reminded me of home. His hands ghosted my hips.
There was always something easy about Laken. Someone that everyone felt comfortable talking about life with. Someone you could trust without reason. Someone you could fall back into step with even after years apart because each touch, each glance, felt like magic.
But that didn’t mean it was.
The steam rising from my arms, however, was magic.
“Shit.” I threw myself off Laken, jumping to my feet. Staggering away, I swatted and patted at the waves of smoke.
Every single time Laken got under my skin, this Gods-damned magic acted as if it were the one dealing with him! And it only made everything worse! Bouncing my eyes around for a solution, I tried to think of something because calming myself obviously wasn’t happening. I could still feel Laken under me. The pond? Gross but—
“Come here,” Laken said from behind. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to hurt him. I needed… he grabbed my hands.
“Laken, stop!” I pulled away, or tried to, but he held tight.
His gaze clashed with mine, and I couldn’t tell if his eyeshardened or softened, but whatever it was—I felt it in my bones. “Trust me.”
I swallowed. Gulped.
Laken lowered his lips to my wrist, so gently touching them against my pulse. The steam rose against his skin until he blew a breath down my arm. He reached up with one hand, wrapping around my elbow. And with the other, he began tracing shapes along my arm.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a raspy whisper.
He continued doing so. “Drawing runes, it’s a method we learn in training.”
“But you don’t have magic?”
“No. I don’t. I’m not using magic. I’m providing direction for yours. Your magic will recognize what they mean.”
He drew circles and swirls, lines and marks. The heat in my bones dissipated. The steam smothered under his touch. My racing heart slowed to a normal rhythm.
“You learned that with the Wraiths?”
Laken carefully lowered my arm, as if it’d break if he dropped it. Or like he didn’t want to let go. His throat bobbed, then he cleared it. “You aren’t the only person who struggles with magic, Reece. Yours is temperamental like—”
“Like me.”
