“But that’s what we want. We want him to fall for me and hand over his purse.”
“I don’t ever want Julian to picture you like I just—” He broke off, chest heaving. “He can’t think of you this way. No one should. In fact—” He snatched up his abandoned jacket and threw it over me. “I don’t even want to see you right now. I’m already tempted enough as it is.”
I lifted the edge of the jacket to peek out from under it. I watched him force every breath, every thought, back into place. This wasn’t funny anymore. It was painful for me to watch him endure it. For the first time, I didn’t want to tease him. “It seems the second dose of the potion might have been a mistake.”
“Clearly.” Zafir reached over to drape the jacket backover my face. “I’ve made enough of a fool of myself and I don’t wish to continue.”
He had suffered enough. I kept the covering over my head but couldn’t resist the stupid grin that plastered itself across my face. “How long are the effects supposed to last?”
“At least another hour.”
“Can you make an antidote?”
“Not in the allotted time left. Just don’t talk. Or move. Or exist. It’s too distracting.”
My unseen grin broadened. “I shall cease to exist for the next hour, then.”
“Good.” His voice was strained. “I’m going to read. Silently. In the corner.”
For several minutes, I sat quietly under the jacket and used the opportunity to lift the vials he’d reclaimed out of the jacket pocket and tuck them into my bodice. Hopefully Zafir wouldn’t look there. But the air grew stiflingly hot and muggy and I lifted the jacket once more to breathe some fresh air.
Zafir wasn’t reading at all. He was holding a book up to cover his face so closely that the pages touched his skin. The book was upside down.
I watched him. He was clearly focusing on his breathing, inhaling and exhaling with extreme intentionality. It was rare to find a man with his level of self-control. It was admirable, really. I tilted my head. He really was fighting hard against the potion’s effects and was doing it to protect me from himself.
He lowered the book. “Go on and laugh,” he grumbled. “I know you want to.”
“No, I don’t,” I told him honestly.
He buried his face into the book again. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my entire life.”
“Hey,” I said softly, dropping the jacket and coming over to crouch in front of him so he was forced to look at me. “There’s nothing humiliating about this. Like I told you, it’s just the potion talking, and you showing this much restraint when you’ve been double-dosed is genuinely commendable. I wish other men had even half the strength of character you’ve exhibited. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Zafir’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Look, should I have been embarrassed that I regained consciousness after you gave me that blood-replenishing potion?”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is, though. Both were simple physical reactions to an elixir designed for a specific purpose. If you’re embarrassed by this, then I should have been embarrassed by the blood-replenishing potion working when I needed it to. These feelings are just a testament to how excellent an alchemist you are.”
“You’re being kind.”
I stood up. “When I’m not busy being a venomous viper or plotting to murder my ex-husband, I’m actually a very kind person.”
Zafir ran a hand down his face. “You can mock me if it helps. I deserve it.”
“No. You deserve to be complimented, not criticized. It was an uncomfortable situation and you willingly took it on for science.” I gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I admire you for that.”
The touch acted like some form of catalyst.
In a moment, Zafir stood, caught my wrist, and pulled me in close, his other hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head. I inhaled sharply at the sudden loss of space. He was about to kiss me. I pushed back against hisunyielding chest, but he continued to crowd forward, as though some invisible force urged him on. I stepped backward again and again until my legs struck the edge of the settee.
“Zafir…” I said, the slightest tremor of fear slipping into my voice. “What’re you doing?”
His head dipped toward mine, eyes dark and unfocused, and panic surged through me. This wasn’t romance; it was a potion-induced compulsion. He was losing control.
“I need you,” he said hoarsely, his grip tightening as his hand slid more firmly behind my head. “You know you belong with me.”
