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“I see what you mean, about it taking more out of you,” Fielder murmurs. There’s sweat prickling his forehead, and his brow is furrowed in concentration.
I nod and lean forward. “Yeah, it might be like a muscle that’s gone unused for so long that it’s atrophied. Or it might just be that certain types of magic are harder to do. Like it might be really hard for Hardin to do water magic because it’s the opposite element to fire.”
“Or it might just be hard for Hardin to do any other type of magic.” Gideon’s eying the brit behind me. “How you doing over there?”
I shift so I can see him. He’s scowling at the plant, his eyes thin slits, his normally full lips a thin slash across his face. “You look constipated, dude,” Ezra laughs.
Hardin’s face relaxes, and he looks over that Ez. “Any tips, Carmichael?”
“What are you trying to do, move the soil or make the plant grow?”
Hardin runs a hand through his hair and then lifts a shoulder. “Either. Bloodyanything.”
“Well, that’s your problem. Earth magic requires intent. You can’t try to do both things at once; it won’t work. Focus on what you want to have happen. Let your intent be known and you’ll be successful.”
Hardin nods once, a motion that is reminiscent of Fielder, and then shifts his focus over to the plant again. Nothing happens. “Maybe you need to get closer to it?” I suggest, hesitantly.
A second later, the plant—I think it’s a fiddle leaf, but I don’t know for sure—grows about six inches right before my eyes. New leaves sprout and unfurl. It’s really beautiful.
I look back at the other guys. Ezra’s stowed the water back in the glass and Gideon’s stopped swirling the air around me, but Fielder still has fire dancing over his fingers. Rivulets of sweat are running down his face and his jaw is clenched in determination. “Harris, what are you doing?”
“Seeing how long I can hold it for,” he grits out.
I shake my head and move closer to him. “You’re going to burn yourself out.” A muscle in his cheek ticks. “Fielder, stop.” Stupid, stubborn man doesn’t listen because why would he?
Without thinking, I lean forward and place my hand over his, then jerk back immediately, holding my singed fingertips to my chest.“Ow. Shit. Fuck.”Damn, that hurt.
The flames on Fielder’s fingers extinguish immediately, and he’s on his knees in front of me. “Shit, Sweeney, I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and blink back tears. My fingers are throbbing in time with my heartbeat. “Not your fault. I’m the idiot who touched open flame like it was harmless.”
“Let me see.” He reaches for me and I shrink back. I can already tell it’s bad and I don’t want them to have proof of what an idiot I am. “Sweeney, let me see.”
Hardin catches my wrist, gently tugging my hand away from my body until it’s in the air between us. I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at it, but when Ezra swears I know it’s bad and my lids flutter open all on their own. I wish I hadn’t looked.
My fingertips are black, covered in charred skin. It’s a little surprising that I’m not passed out right now or that I’m not in more pain, because this is really, really bad. Fielder’s staring at my hand, his own palms hovering just under and over it. I know he’s trying to heal it. But nothing happens.
“Ezra,” he says, his tone laced with frustration.
Without hesitation, Ezra slips to the ground next to Fielder. A second later, numbness spreads over my fingers and I relax, letting out a little sigh as the agony eases. Gideon sits next to me on the couch and his fingers smooth the hair back from my face.
“What were you thinking, touching him like that?”
I move my gaze from my fingers over to his grey eyes. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Hardin curses behind me, and my brows lower. “No, listen to me. I wasn’t thinking because Hardin’s fire doesn’t hurt me, and neither does my own. I just assumed…”
Guilt flickers over Fielder’s face. “You assumed I wouldn’t hurt you.”
I use the hand that isn’t currently being healed by Ezra to brush my fingers over his damp forehead. “You didn’t do it intentionally, Harris. Stop feeling guilty.”
He catches my hand and presses a kiss to the center of my palm. “I was losing control of them before you touched me. I should have extinguished them as soon as I felt that. It was irresponsible of me. Especially with fire.”
Ezra’s hands close over mine and he draws it to his lips to press gentle kisses over my now healed fingertips.
Gideon’s watching us, thinking hard I can tell by the sort of glazed expression on his face. “Hey, big man, what’s on your mind?”
His gaze clears and sharpens, coming to focus on me. “I’m thinking that this is like my magic. Based on the written word, in ink.” His fingers go to the buttons of his shirt, swiftly undoing them and then shrugging out of the fabric, revealing his numerous tattoos.
