“First you call me ignorant and now insipid? Your flirting needs work.”
“Kara, you would never say that if I was indeed flirting with you. But neither of those words are cruel when in context.” I welcomed the inane debate and the accompanying annoyance. It took my mind off Amelia, who’d gone MIA. Nothing would come of it. Her final words to me now overshadowed Vina’s.
“I’d never thought I’d be the one who would right my mother’s many wrongs.”
It was sent in a text with no further clarification. Did righting the wrongs mean releasing the magic that her mother had? That would require matricide. How would she live with herself after that? Or was she going to introduce Vina to Cirrian? Which would lead to the same result. Death by shadow god. I was starting to spiral, and several minutes had passed since Cirrian or I had spoken. He didn’t seem to mind silence. Redirecting my attention to the phone, I stood. Amelia’s words lingered in my thoughts as I paced the length of the kitchen.
“In context or out, there are better words,” I refuted.
“You lacked knowledge of who you are. How would you describe that?”
“Lacking knowledge,” I countered.
“Little minx, I know you have a dictionary at your disposal. Look up?—”
“Don’t need to, I already know,” I barked. “What do you need?” His momentary distraction had quickly turned into a source of exasperation.
“To know if you’re decent?”
A low rumble reverberated in my furry guest’s chest. He opened the door and let himself out, craning his head over his shoulder before trotting off. I guess I wasn’t the only one annoyed by Cirrian. I locked the door behind him.
Decent enough. “I don’t walk around my house butt naked so of course I’m decent.”
“Excellent.”
My skin warmed, then grew unbearably hot. Looking down at it, I rubbed it, and then I was in Diehle’s home—more precisely his kitchen.
Cirrian sat at the table, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup. The rich, fragrant aroma filled the room. Taking a long sip, he looked at me over the edge of the mug. His eyes trailed slowly over my legs, to the feather-soft mulberry shorts and tank that complemented my skin color, or at least I assumed it did, by the exceptional amount of attention it garnered from Cirrian. My fuzzy socks did very little to ward off the chill from the hardwood floor.
Placing the mug on the table, his gaze traveled back to my nipples that had pebbled against the soft fabric.
His teeth grazed over his lips, feasting on the curves of my body, making me feel naked under his gaze. He stood and walked toward me, a deviant, lopsided smirk darkening his eyes.“Decent but not fully clothed,” he teased, his fingers tracing over the thin straps of the tank.
I met his teasing look with defiance, which would have been more menacing without the bright pink bow atop my bonnet. But I still gave it my best effort, which he met with a smirk.
“I was expecting an evening of popcorn and TV.” I looked around Diehle’s house from my vantage point, getting glimpses of the horrors and deceptions that decorated it. I frowned. “This place.”
“This place is a very good start to our beginning,” he said, warmth radiating from his skin as he continued to finger the fabric. He was silent as he moved from the strap of my tank and teased with the bow atop the bonnet before untying it and sliding the bonnet off, placing it on one of the chairs.
“May I?” he asked, his fingers inches from the end of my hair. His voice was disarmingly soft. This was usually the moment I would rear back at the idea of people touching my hair. That, or use one of my well-practiced counterblocks. I nodded. A smile and his breeze crossed the tips, unraveling the twists. What usually takes me half an hour or more, he’d completed in a matter of seconds. I needed magic. Apparently, his brand of magic.
Amelia had magic but hadn’t discovered a way to minimize her hair routine, let alone mine. When he was finished, I did the best I could to tease and shape the curls without a mirror.
A dark glimmer slivered into his expression. “Beautiful,” he said.
The specter of heat from the use of his mark lingered. I lifted my arm, placing it right in his face, pulling his focus from the tank top. Releasing the fabric, he grasped my arm, his fingers moving absently over the invisible binding mark.
“Am I able to use your magic?” I asked. He’d withheld a lot of the benefits he’d acquired from our binding, leaving me towonder if he’d done the same for any benefits I’d have. “If I wanted to leave the house of horrors, could I just will it?”
He shook his head. “The magic connection is unilateral. I’m still testing the extent of my abilities with you.”
“How flattering that I’m the one to encourage you to flex your magic muscles.”
He directed me out of the kitchen to the infamous hall and the diabolic décor that held new meaning since my personal interaction with Diehle.
Waving his hand over the space, he said, “This is not a house of horrors but one of limitless possibilities.”
He grinned, heading for the kitchen into which he disappeared for several minutes, returning with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He beckoned me to follow to where he placed the bottle on the coffee table. He moved through the house with familiarity, leaving then returning with a charcuterie board of breads, meats, cheeses, olives, and berries. He uncorked the bottle and filled the glasses. He handed me one; I inhaled the decadent scent of plum and spices before I took a sip.
