The worry eases. A little. “Your therapist will be so disappointed in you.”
I can hear his smile when he slurs, “Shut your mouth, Seb.”
Chapter Six
WEATHER ALERT: Dagger hailstorm spanning western Philadelphia. Residents encouraged to take shelter inside ward-protected structures. If you must go out, engage proper shielding precautions.
The hail is attributed to the witch-king Tempest Salaedrus resisting arrest. Multiple adventure parties have the situation under control and authorities expect Salaedrus to be apprehended by midafternoon. Arcane Forces are on standby.
Dagger hail’s a pain in the ass, but it doesn’t have shit on that one horrible summer where a warlock got pissy and unleashed a plague of dire mosquitoes.
Dire mosquitoes.
They were the size of chihuahuas.
So though it means traffic extra sucks because everyone has to dodge yard-long spears of ice plummeting from the sky, I happily embrace the dagger hail, and most everyone around me does, too. Theplunk, plunk, plunkof shards rebounding off the bus’s force shields doesn’t faze anyone.
By the time I get to the lab, Iama bit annoyed by the hail, since it meant I had to keep a personal force shield up on the walk from the bus stop. My first day working under this tentative truce with Elethior, and I’m going in tired. But he likely had to keep up some kind of shield, too, so odds are he’s in the same boat.
I push into the lab and don’t find him out of breath and sweaty. He’s standing by his clusterfuck of a workstation, thin blue strands of energy forming a web between his splayed hands.
I stiffen.
He scowls in concentration as he reads something in the spell he’s cast.
The door thuds shut behind me. The distantplunking of the ice shards immediately vanishes thanks to the lab’s soundproofing.
Elethior acknowledges me with a slight flick of his eyes to the side.
All he asks is, “How did you do this?”
I don’t have to answer him. We have a professional truce; I owe him nothing else.
I clench one hand and cross behind him to deposit my bag on my desk. “Genetics. I wake up looking this good.”
“Yeah, that’s obviously what I meant.” He turns from his analysis spell to give me a quick once-over.
Or what he clearlymeantto be a quick once-over.
But his eyes shoot to where I’m peeling off my hoodie. My T-shirt is caught on the hem and I can feel both rise up, a gust of cool air brushing across my bare stomach, making my abs tighten.
Elethior stares at that line. That revealed skin.
It itches. Prickles right where my stomach runs along the edge of my pants.
I release a noise. A gasp? A grunt? I want it to be an offendedahem,but I know it’s too soft and breathy for that.
Elethior whips back to his spell. Those stupid lines of scarlet flare across his cheekbones, racing back so even his pointed ears turn vivid red against the silver metal of his piercings.
I can make him uncomfortable very, very easily, turns out.
But I don’t take advantage of that. It doesn’tfeellike discomfort. Not really.
Oh, gods.
You know what? It’s cold in here. Think I’ll keep my clothes fullyontoday. Maybe come in tomorrow wearing a hazmat suit, normal laboratory fashion.
I jerk my hoodie and T-shirt down, pulling until both stretch below my component belt.
