He tried to think of something that might distract her from the pain. “What’s your favorite color?”
She was breathing heavily now, and her eyes were gleaming with agony as they snapped to his. “My favorite color?” she repeated, every word tense. “You’re asking me what my favorite color is.”
Darien couldn’t suppress the defensive tone that entered his words. “I’m trying to distract you.”
Loren drew in a slow, deep breath that shook her whole upper body. “Blue,” she bit out. Her eyelids slipped shut, her glossy lips pursing as another wave of pain cascaded over her.
The doctor cut in. “The pain is going to increase as the magic begins to bind to her bloodstream. I’ll let you know when we reach the final minutes.” A pause, and then she added, “Keep talking to her, Darien.”
“What kind of blue?” he said to Loren.
The fingers of Loren’s left hand crumpled the paper, and she made a visible effort to hold still. “I don’t know,” she hissed. She looked at him, her eyes exploring his features. “A gray-blue. Like your eyes, I guess.”
Behind him, Jack gave a snort of amusement. Darien shot his sister’s husband a glare that had him holding up his hands in surrender.
Loren bit her lip so hard, it looked like she might break the skin. Darien could tell she was quarreling with the desire to flinch from the pain and the determination to keep still so no part of the tattoo would need redoing.
“What made you want to attend Angelthene Academy?”
“Um.” Loren could barely get out the words, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I’m majoring in Botany and General Biology.”
“Was it your decision to attend that academy, or is it something you’re doing because of your friends?”
The question worked at distracting her from the pain she was feeling. Confusion and something like irritation flashed in her gaze. Under the fluorescents, her eyes were cobalt blue. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s an honest question,” he replied. “Were youpersonallyhoping AA would accept your application, or was it because you didn’t want to take a separate path from the one your friends were walking?”
There it was: the flicker of hurt that spoke a thousand words. “I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.”Bull’s-eye.
“What type of occupation are you going for?”
“Herbal magic.” Interesting. While spellcasting wasn’t something a human could physically do, he figured her career would involve the preparation and administration of potions. An assistant of sorts, but never the real thing. “In case you couldn’t tell from my current place of employment, I like plants. I also like helping people—” She broke off with a hiss.
“You’re okay,” Darien murmured. Tears shone in her eyes as she looked at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “It’ll be over soon.” He tightened his hold on her hand, his thumb tracing her knuckles. She seemed to take comfort in the feeling; perhaps it was the repetition.
So, he kept doing it. And he tried not to read into it too much as his hearing picked up on the sound of her heart skipping beats. No matter how bad the pain she was feeling, it was only his touch that made her react that way.
The doctor said, “Sixty seconds and the ink will be fully bonded.” Sixty seconds and he would have to let go of her.
Loren looked at Darien and sighed; her breath smelled of the candy she’d eaten in the backseat of his car. “Promise you’ll hold my hand every time I need this done.” Her eyes never wavered from his. But as soon as the words left her mouth, blush dusted her cheeks, and she looked like she would’ve kicked herself in the head if it were physically possible.
“Deal,” Darien said quickly, before the embarrassment she was feeling could get any worse. “But only if you promise me something in return.”
“Thirty seconds,” Doctor Atlas announced. She wiped the tattoo with a damp cloth.
Darien said, “Look at all your options in life before you blindly follow your friends. You don’t need to do everything they do simply out fear.”
“I’m not afraid.” She practically barked the words, and he had a feeling her hand tightened around his at that precise moment, not from the pain, but because she was angry at him for calling her out.
He lightly squeezed her hand in answer—in challenge. And when her heart kicked inside her chest from the gentle pressure, he realized he might never know what had caused that specific skip in her pulse.
“All I’m saying,” he went on, “is there’s a great school in Upper West Glen that teaches the field you’re wanting to get into. If you find AA isn’t everything you thought it would be, give this one a try. I know the hedgewitch who runs it. I could put in a good word for you.”
“What’s it called?” Her fingers squeezed his harder; they were so small beneath his own.
“Agatha’s Post-Secondary Education for Botany. Agatha’s for short.” Loren was staring at him with unfathomable emotions on her face. “You haven’t promised,” he prodded.
Her full lips formed the words, “I promise.”
