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SINDRI
“There you are.” I open my door all the way, taking in the sight of her, drinking her in. “I wondered when you’d show up.”
“I’m only here because of the joined project,” she says, her mouth tight.
“Of course.” I gesture for her to enter.
Every joint in my body burns, my side a pulsing ache that won’t let me focus on anything—but now she’s here and at least that will take my mind off it for a while.
“Are you alone?” she asks.
“Yes.” I arch a brow. “Did you want me to invite more people?”
“Oh, God, no. Between your people and the stupid girls drooling after you…” She shudders.
“They drool, huh?” I preen for her benefit, flicking back a strand of my hair. “Can’t resist fey charms, these human girls.”
“Hey, I resist just fine. And it’s just like you to focus on that one word.”
“But you’re not human. Are you?” I narrow my eyes at her but she only saunters to my desk and sits in my chair.
“You know what I am,” she says.
Yeah. A dangerous girl. Dangerously pretty. Dangerously affecting me and getting under my skin.
“I hope you’re ready for this,” I say, dramatically flinging my robe open and striking a pose. My back hurts, a stabbing burn under my shoulder blades that makes breathing painful, but I won’t let her see that.
“Nice pajama bottoms,” she says.
“What about my chiseled chest which is currently bare for your benefit?”
She snickers.
I frown. “Did you just snicker at my chest?”
“No, it is… very bare.” She waves a hand at it. “Got that right. Well done.”
I’d be offended but her cheeks are turning red and the way she keeps staring at me is quite gratifying.
I have no false modesty or complex about my body. I’ve worked hard to make it strong, keep it fit, honed and ready for fighting. I’ve been challenged to death way too many times in my life and I’m not about to lay down my weapons yet.
Not until I’ve foundher. The person from my past I’ve been searching for.
Meanwhile… I amble over to the small coffee table at the foot of my bed, lifting my bowl ofTeskand dipping my fingers in it. I pass them over my lips, lick at them. The buzz hits me almost instantly.
She makes a sound. “Is that…”
“A drug? Yes.”
“You’re an addict?”
I turn to face her as the buzz travels through my blood, reducing the burn of magic, its absence causing a ripple of pleasure. “You could say that.”
Distaste flashes in her eyes.
Good. I can work with that. It gives me a piece of resistance to shore my attraction against, to block it, because what I feel for her is starting to pull me under, drowning me in its rising wave. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before—this wrenching lust, this unquenchable curiosity, this warmth in my chest when she’s around, this need to be near her.
It’s killing me as surely as the elemental magic is.
