“You could’ve found me earlier, but you didn’t, so why now?”
He looks away, but I sense he’s not done. It’s the way he holds his shoulders, the drum of his fingers. He’s weighing something. A confession, perhaps? I should kick him out. It would be the smart thing, but my curiosity roots me to the spot and keeps my mouth closed.
His other hand joins the first on the counter, the movement so slow and soundless that I almost miss it. “You didn’t ask me to run with you.” His blue eyes flick back up.
My lips part, but nothing comes forth. He’d been waiting for me. All this time. And a part of me was stupidly waiting for him, too.
Valen leans his weight on his palms. “Did you want me to come with you?”
The word comes out too fast, too sudden. “No.”Damn it.
Victory flares across his face and a devilish smirk unfurls. He leans forward, the heat in his eyes burning me again as he repeats, “Did you want me to come with you?”
My heart pounds, my breathing sharp. It’s far too hot in my shop and the counter closer to the back wall than I remember. The impulse to run thrums through my veins as something I haven’t acknowledged in a long time roots me in place.
Then, the front door swings open. I jump, panic flaring. My magic erupts around me in a halo of crackling energy, eyes glowing bright green like two beacons in the night. I whip to the door, ready to slaughter all the weavers who have arrived to capture me.
But only one other person could enter my shop while the password is activated. My magic douses like a candle in a storm. The mix of pure horror and heart-thundering excitement nearly has me gagging when a boisterous boom fills the small shop.
“TORI! You’re going to suck my co—oh! Shit.”
Standing there a whole week earlier than I expected is none other than my business partner, Lucas Flint. Dirty button-up shirt, poorly mended khakis, beat-up leather jacket swung over his broad shoulder, Lucas’ large, muscular frame glows in the wide-open door. His overgrown hair is in desperate need of a cut and is barely held back by his favorite flat cap, which is also filthy.
He beams at me with his usual radiant smile. It’s the smile that has the people lingering in my shop on more weekends than not. Even the books shift closer to him, some of them starting to vibrate.
His bright brown eyes scan Valen, taking in the crisp suit that bleeds money. “Sorry, didn’t know you were with a customer. I’ll go in the back.”
Lucas’ grin shifts playfully at his own innuendo, and I could keel over and die from embarrassment. It would be far more merciful than whatever Valen is going to do now that he’s met Lucas.
Lucas slams the front door too loudly, his canvas bag clapping against his hip. Valen takes all this in with a certain kind of stillness that blooms a cold sweat down my spine.
Slowly, Valen looks back at me, his blue eyes sparkling and smirk evil. “A magician?Really, Tori?”
That snaps me out of my shock. “It’s Astoria, you ass!” My cheeks burn at my sharp, high pitch, but I manage a vicious glare, nonetheless.
The interaction has Lucas slowing his bound up the three steps to the shop’s main floor. He sizes up Valen, warm eyes narrowing. It’s a fighter’s scan and his strong jaw clenches. My heart hammers.
Lucas’ boots thud loudly in the shop. “Didn’t realize Order bluebloods were coming in today.”
I want to smack my face, but I dare not move as Valen draws to his full height, turning his formidable glare on high before speaking.
“Careful, human. I’d hate it if you lost your… what is it? A wand? Pendant?”
He scans Lucas, lingering on his rolled-up shirt where his revealed full-sleeve, black flame tattoo twists up the muscles and tendons on his right arm.
“Whatever you’re hiding can’t be that big.”
Lucas steps too close to Valen, smirking darkly when he looks down at the weaver. His voice dips into a low, menacing, drawl. “Bet you’d love to see my big wand.”
Valen sneers, teeth bared, but Lucas swiftly steps back and around the counter. He whips off his cap and slaps the slightly damp thing on my head. His black rings, one for each finger, glint in the candlelight. “Call me if you need help.”
I scowl but wipe it from my face when it mirrors Valen’s. “I’ve got it handled.”
“Bet you do.”
In a rare show of decorum, probably because he thinks Valen is a wealthy collector, Lucas refrains from any further comment. He steps away and disappears behind the silk curtains to the back room.
An awkward moment passes and the inexplicable urge to explain myself surges.
