“I’m getting very tired of partial answers.”
He set the stave back on the rack.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Hale crossed the chalk line.
The Pull sharpened with every step he took.
I should have stepped back.
I didn’t.
He stopped close enough that I could see where the Mark disappeared beneath his cuff. Close enough that the air between us changed.
His hand lifted.
Not to touch me.
To stop himself.
The restraint cost him. I saw it in the tendon at his wrist, in the way his fingers closed in a fist and opened again.
“Jonah,” I said again, quieter.
His eyes closed.
Only for a breath.
When he opened them, he looked me in the eyes.
Then at my wrist.
Then away.
“Don’t say my name like that unless you want me to forget why I shouldn’t answer.”
My pulse went unhelpfully enthusiastic at the idea.
“And if I do?”
The bell rang above us.
Breakfast warning.
Neither of us moved.
Hale’s hand lowered.
Slowly.
“Then ask me when there is time for the answer.”
That took the room out from under me.
The Pull stayed bright under my skin.
I wanted to be furious with him for stopping.
