“No. I don’t think I will.” His voice grew a touch amused. “I rather enjoy you red-faced and indignant. Besides, we have to keep up appearances. I told you, no one knows about this. About any part of this. No one. Or the deal’s off.”
I stared at him, angry, confused, but, maddeningly, not indecisive.
The thing I’d wanted from him, he’d just handed to me, practically on a silver platter. All I had to do was tolerate him doing… that, whatever the hellthatwas… to me, whenever he needed to scratch that itch.
“How often?” I asked.
His eyebrow rose. I snorted in annoyance.
“Now who’s thick?” I huffed. “These magical transfers, or whatever they are. How often do you need to do it?”
His brow cleared. “That depends,” he said, a little stiffly. “Usually about once a week. Sometimes more often. Sometimes less.”
“And you can’t tell me what the variables are?” I asked.
“No,” he said coldly.
Thinking about that, I nodded. “All right.”
When I glanced up, I was startled to see real, tangible relief in his eyes. It was so obviously there, so strangely vulnerable, it nearly wiped away the sneer he wore over it.
“So do we shake?” I asked, holding out a hand.
“I want more than a handshake,” he said.
“What then?” I asked, not hiding my impatience. “Do you need me to sign something in blood? Shall I call my solicitor?”
I’d meant it as sarcasm, obviously, but he didn’t smile.
“I want agreement between our primals,” he said. “A vow. A real one.”
My confusion returned. “How could I possibly give that? You know I haven’t got one.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s a sun,” he said. “White and gold. With some green, tendril-y things.” He made a vague gesture indicating squiggly lines. “It’s right over your bloody head, Shadow.” He pointed upwards with a finger. “Andyoudon’t need to do anything. I’ll talk to it, using my own primal. If it’s a real agreement, then we have a deal.”
I frowned. “What assurances doIget?”
“What assurances do you want?” He folded his arms. “My primal will make the agreement with yours, and I’ll be as bound by it as you are.”
“But how willIknow that?” I asked.
“I’d think you’ll know,” he said, annoyed. “Is it my fault you can’t feel your own ruddy primal or communicate with it?”
Realizing I didn’t care, as long as he helped me find out who killed my parents, I exhaled, my hands on my hips.
“Fine,” I said. “Do it. I’ve probably missed breakfast by now, anyway.”
He gave me a strange look at that, opened his mouth, then closed it.
Then he closed his eyes.
I watched him, curious in spite of myself. His whole outline seemed to glow brighter for a few seconds. That black flame and crystal hovering over his head, with its rippling black smoke, seemed to grow brighter, too.
I felt the glowing, heated part of my chest grow shockingly hotter.
I’d just pressed my palm to it, wincing, when it abruptly eased.
Caelum Bones opened his eyes.
