I give my head a small shake, brushing the memory off. “It’s not your fault. And besides, it kept me alive for years, so I really shouldn’t complain.”
The look on Becks’ face is not exactly pity, but close. It says that he’d understand if I wanted him to. Something about that warms me, and a soft flutter of butterfly wings stirs in my stomach.
Becks looks away, and the spell is broken.
“Since you haven’t used your magic since the demon was released, I’m not sure if that’s what drew the demon to you, or if it found you through me. I understand the caution, but I’d feel better if you had at least a little training in that area. Maybe at the very least I can teach you how to bring it forth.”
“Really?” I ask, perking up. The thought of learning how to use my magic causes a thrill of excitement to run through me. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“I think at this point it’s worth the risk. I’ve been meaning to ask: what type of creature are you anyway? That would give a good idea on where to start.”
My gut tightens. That is something else my parents hammered into me. To never, ever, reveal my creature origin.
“I don’t know.”
My stomach sours at the lie, and I look out the window, not wanting to meet Becks’ gaze.
“Really?” he asks, surprised.
I shrug. “I’ve pretty much ignored my powers.”
“Hmm.” I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “It’s probably safe to rule out a vampire, unless you have a secret desire to drink blood I don’t know about.”
Scrunching my nose, I shake my head. Becks laughs lightly.
“I’ve seen you use fire magic, and you said you blew something up. Those powers could make you a fae or any number of types of shifters. Maybe we can figure it out together.”
I force a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
Thirteen
BECKS
I step into the room and Haven pulls a face.
“What?” I ask.
“Seriously? Do you have something against shirts?”
Color appears high on her cheeks when she gives my chest a pointed look, and I have to cover my smile by biting the inside of my cheek. I suppose I have been shirtless a few times already. Maybe I’m doing it subconsciously.
“I was working out,” I say with a shrug, feeling like that’s explanation enough.
I was honestly shocked to discover the small hotel had a tiny gym—the place doesn’t look like it’s been updated since the seventies—but it provided the outlet I needed. Being cooped up in the car all day left me itching to expel some energy. It also gave Haven a little break, time to process without me breathing down her neck. But even so, my need to protect her feels like it’s growing by the minute, so I could only stand to be away for a half-hour.
“And you always work out half naked?”
The smile is getting harder to keep off my face. She’s clearly flustered. I shouldn’t be finding as much amusement in her discomfort as I am, but shoot, it’s kind of adorable.
Another shrug. “I was sweating.”
Her voice is one notch below shrill when she says, “And taking off your shirt stopped your pores from leaking?”
I can’t help myself. I bark out a laugh. “Stopped my pores from leaking? Are you serious?”
Her face reddens even more.
“Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s a free country. If you want to walk around flaunting all of that for all to see . . .” She gestures toward my abs. “. . . be my guest.”
