“Stop doing that,” I say, voice low and sharp. “Back.Now.”
The shadows hesitate, then reluctantly slither back. However, this time, instead of coming back to me, they melt into the corners like they are pouting. The light in my palm flickersas my control wavers.
I don’t look at Koen’s face. Don’twant to see what is written there.
My heart is pounding. Several times now, my shadows have gone to him. They haven’t done that to anyone since…No. I shove the thought down. This isnotabout Kallan. This isnow. This isKoen.
I finish the healing in silence, and when I pull my hand away, the wound is gone, but my breath is uneven.
He shifts beside me. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. He is too close.
“Are your shadows always like that?” he asks with a bemused grin, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“No,” I mutter, standing quickly. “They’ve just been misbehaving lately.”
He quirks a brow. “Seemed pretty fond of me.”
“They’re not. Shadows don’t get fond. They’re just…curious...or confused.”
“Are you talking about your shadows,” he says, rising slowly to his feet, “or you?”
I stiffen. “Don’t.”
He raises both hands. “Just asking.”
“You’re alwaysasking,” I snap. “Asking and smirking and poking and—”
He steps toward me. Just one step. Not touching, but it’s enough.
My back hits the cold stone wall of the ruin behind me. Koen doesn’t move closer, not yet, but he looks at me in that infuriating, quiet way. Like he is studying me. As if he knowsexactly what I will say next and is just waiting for me to say it.
“Something wrong?” he asks in a soft voice, tilting his head. “You look…distracted.”
I open my mouth to fire back, but he takes another step.
The playful glint in his eyes should warn me. So should the way his expression shifts from amused to unreadable, the closer he comes.
But I don’t move. Not even when he leans in, crowding my space with quiet, maddening confidence, and my breath catches.
“You’ve been scowling at me since day one, little shadow,” he says in a low voice, glancing at my lips for a brief moment before returning his gaze to mine. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to look flustered.”
“I’m notflustered,” I say quickly, though the heat in my cheeks betrays me.
He leans just a fraction closer, his mouth at my ear now, and he whispers, “Sure you’re not.”
Satisfied, smug, andsmirking, he pulls away and sits on the floor by a broken bench like he didn’t just completely rattle me.
I stand frozen for a heartbeat longer than I’d like.
“Smug bastard.”
His laugh echoes off the stone walls, low and warm and entirely too pleased with himself.
Lyinghis back against the floor, he folds his hands behind his head with the faintest smirk still curving his lips.
I hate that smirk...Well, mostly.
