The Darkest Touch
Page 34
“A hard no. Like absolutely not.”
“So...I should save some for later?”
“Save some for never.”
“But...” I foraged for you. “Never mind.” She shrugged to mask her upset, and popped a mushroom into her mouth. “Your loss.”
“My win.”
“Someone’s clearly in the mood to argue,” she said.
“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”
A sudden, light mist began to fall over them. “Are you proud of yourself?” she asked softly. “I’m five seconds away from killing myself and then killing you.”
Torin looked around, sighed. “Did you know that fifty-one percent of all statistics are useless?”
“Uh...no?”
“Yep, and seven-fifths of people do not understand fractions.”
“That’s...bad?”
The mist stopped, and Torin said, “I’m taking that bath.” He grabbed his shirt by the collar and yanked.
A protest died before it ever left her lips. Looking away proved impossible. Drugging warmth swirled in her mind, making her light-headed before racing through the rest of her.
He stilled with his hands on the waist of his pants. He met her gaze and arched a brow. “Turn around.”
“Why? Are you shy?”
“Maybe I think there’s no reason to tempt a starving woman with what she’ll never have.”
A stinging reminder of his resistance, meant to discourage her. Well, she would let him think he’d succeeded. For now. Every victory came with a kickass plan. It was time she created one.
“I’m going to pass on your offer to cook,” she said, turning away.
The rustle of clothing pricked her ears. “I don’t recommend you do that. I’m starved, and as you’ve probably noticed,” he added darkly, “I get cranky when I’m starved.”
“Do you really want to feed on the offspring of a fallen angel?”
“Excuse me?”
As water splashed, she swung back around. He was submerged to his shoulders. “How old are you?” An older immortal would have recognized the beast he’d slain.
“Old enough to know better. Old enough that I can only use one pickup line appropriately—hey baby, you better call life alert because I just fell for you and can’t get up.”
Pickup line...pickup line...she racked her brain until she found an explanation and brightened. “Mine would be—roses are red, violets are blue, if you don’t do what I say I will kill you.”
He blinked over at her for a long while, looking ready to burst into laughter—or curse.
“Seriously,” she said. “How old?”
“I’ll say at least three thousand and leave it at that.”
“So...basically you’re a fetus.” No wonder he was too embarrassed to tell her.
When he merely picked up the bar of soap, she pushed him from her mind, spending the next half hour disposing of the Nephilim, not wanting the stink of his rotting corpse to draw the notice of his friends. And he had friends. They always ran in packs. Evil was a parasite, dependent on others for survival.
Which was exactly how the world saw Curators, she thought with a sigh. Was that how Torin saw her?
Yeah. Probably. His attitude about the bond...
Bonding to him was possible. It was always possible. She’d have to be more careful than ever, especially with the new direction of their relationship.
“How do we get out of this realm?” Torin asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she snapped, irritated with him.
“Um, yes. That’s kind of why I asked.”
Calm. Steady. He’s done nothing wrong—at the moment.
She couldn’t resist another peek at him. He’d already pulled on a clean pair of pants, but they hung low on his waist, revealing a dark goody trail, a match to his eyebrows. So beautiful.
“It’s simple,” she said. “We find the key and unlock the door.”
“What if I already have a key? Where’s the door?”
A key, he’d said. Not the key. Interesting choice. What was his game? “It’s at the edge of the realm. About three days from here. Or I can flash you there. Won’t take but a second. All you need to do is cut out your brimstone scars.”
He smiled at her, irritating her all over again. “Thanks, but I’d rather walk.”
She shrugged as if it were no big deal. Meanwhile, it was a big freaking deal! “More time for us to spend together, then.”
He pulled on a shirt, saying dryly, “Yay me.”
A flash of anger, a boom of thunder. “I’m sensing you don’t realize how lucky you are. How privileged. People have paid me fortunes to stay by their side during war.”
“Except that I’m your opponent.”
“I thought not, but I could certainly be convinced to change my mind again.”
As he opened his mouth to reply, the three prisoners he’d worked with to subdue her suddenly charged the campsite. Instinctively she summoned a great gust of wind to knock them backward, but they must have given themselves brimstone scars to block her powers, because they stepped right on through it, closing in on her and Torin—who had swiped up a dagger and stepped in front of her, prepared to guard her.
Some of her anger with him drained.
Before the trio could reach him, she flashed hundreds of branches into their path as she’d once done to Torin, but this time, she added trees. So many the warriors couldn’t find their way through. But they tried, diligently, violently, more determined to reach her than she’d realized.
“So...I should save some for later?”
“Save some for never.”
“But...” I foraged for you. “Never mind.” She shrugged to mask her upset, and popped a mushroom into her mouth. “Your loss.”
“My win.”
“Someone’s clearly in the mood to argue,” she said.
“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”
A sudden, light mist began to fall over them. “Are you proud of yourself?” she asked softly. “I’m five seconds away from killing myself and then killing you.”
Torin looked around, sighed. “Did you know that fifty-one percent of all statistics are useless?”
“Uh...no?”
“Yep, and seven-fifths of people do not understand fractions.”
“That’s...bad?”
The mist stopped, and Torin said, “I’m taking that bath.” He grabbed his shirt by the collar and yanked.
A protest died before it ever left her lips. Looking away proved impossible. Drugging warmth swirled in her mind, making her light-headed before racing through the rest of her.
He stilled with his hands on the waist of his pants. He met her gaze and arched a brow. “Turn around.”
“Why? Are you shy?”
“Maybe I think there’s no reason to tempt a starving woman with what she’ll never have.”
A stinging reminder of his resistance, meant to discourage her. Well, she would let him think he’d succeeded. For now. Every victory came with a kickass plan. It was time she created one.
“I’m going to pass on your offer to cook,” she said, turning away.
The rustle of clothing pricked her ears. “I don’t recommend you do that. I’m starved, and as you’ve probably noticed,” he added darkly, “I get cranky when I’m starved.”
“Do you really want to feed on the offspring of a fallen angel?”
“Excuse me?”
As water splashed, she swung back around. He was submerged to his shoulders. “How old are you?” An older immortal would have recognized the beast he’d slain.
“Old enough to know better. Old enough that I can only use one pickup line appropriately—hey baby, you better call life alert because I just fell for you and can’t get up.”
Pickup line...pickup line...she racked her brain until she found an explanation and brightened. “Mine would be—roses are red, violets are blue, if you don’t do what I say I will kill you.”
He blinked over at her for a long while, looking ready to burst into laughter—or curse.
“Seriously,” she said. “How old?”
“I’ll say at least three thousand and leave it at that.”
“So...basically you’re a fetus.” No wonder he was too embarrassed to tell her.
When he merely picked up the bar of soap, she pushed him from her mind, spending the next half hour disposing of the Nephilim, not wanting the stink of his rotting corpse to draw the notice of his friends. And he had friends. They always ran in packs. Evil was a parasite, dependent on others for survival.
Which was exactly how the world saw Curators, she thought with a sigh. Was that how Torin saw her?
Yeah. Probably. His attitude about the bond...
Bonding to him was possible. It was always possible. She’d have to be more careful than ever, especially with the new direction of their relationship.
“How do we get out of this realm?” Torin asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she snapped, irritated with him.
“Um, yes. That’s kind of why I asked.”
Calm. Steady. He’s done nothing wrong—at the moment.
She couldn’t resist another peek at him. He’d already pulled on a clean pair of pants, but they hung low on his waist, revealing a dark goody trail, a match to his eyebrows. So beautiful.
“It’s simple,” she said. “We find the key and unlock the door.”
“What if I already have a key? Where’s the door?”
A key, he’d said. Not the key. Interesting choice. What was his game? “It’s at the edge of the realm. About three days from here. Or I can flash you there. Won’t take but a second. All you need to do is cut out your brimstone scars.”
He smiled at her, irritating her all over again. “Thanks, but I’d rather walk.”
She shrugged as if it were no big deal. Meanwhile, it was a big freaking deal! “More time for us to spend together, then.”
He pulled on a shirt, saying dryly, “Yay me.”
A flash of anger, a boom of thunder. “I’m sensing you don’t realize how lucky you are. How privileged. People have paid me fortunes to stay by their side during war.”
“Except that I’m your opponent.”
“I thought not, but I could certainly be convinced to change my mind again.”
As he opened his mouth to reply, the three prisoners he’d worked with to subdue her suddenly charged the campsite. Instinctively she summoned a great gust of wind to knock them backward, but they must have given themselves brimstone scars to block her powers, because they stepped right on through it, closing in on her and Torin—who had swiped up a dagger and stepped in front of her, prepared to guard her.
Some of her anger with him drained.
Before the trio could reach him, she flashed hundreds of branches into their path as she’d once done to Torin, but this time, she added trees. So many the warriors couldn’t find their way through. But they tried, diligently, violently, more determined to reach her than she’d realized.
