How to Claim an Undead Soul (Beginner's Guide to Necromancy #2)

“Are you robbing me of my achievement by mansplaining that all the work I did today was a ploy? Are you insinuating that his plan was to undercut my confidence all evening then give me high marks to provoke a physical response?” I planted my feet and anchored my hands on my hips. “Do you think I’m being conditioned to equate higher marks with affection? That I would ever drop my panties for a passing grade?”

“He has a lot of power over you at the moment, whether you see it or not.”

“I see him clearly, Boaz.” I didn’t own a single pair of rose-colored glasses. “Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend. You don’t have that right.”

“You’ve been through enough,” he growled. “If I can protect you from one more thing, I will. No matter how pissed off you get, as your friend, as someone who loves you, that is my right, and I have earned it.”

The argument I intended to make spluttered in the face of his righteous fury.

“The Grande Dame locked you away, tossed you in a black hole, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it except clang on the front gate and get beat to shit by the guards.” His face reddened as he stalked toward me. “I watched Volkov take you, saw you curled in his fucking lap like a drowsy kitten, and I couldn’t save you.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the carriage house. “Now I see that viper’s son coiling around you when he’s the last person on the face of the planet you ought to trust, and you expect me to sit on my hands for a third time? Hell no.”

My cell in Atramentous was so small, so dark, I forgot sometimes that others had been in there with me. Not really there, not trapped like me. But Amelie and Boaz had been in my thoughts every single night, and I had been in theirs. We had all suffered together, though we had been apart, and those years had marked us in different ways. None of us would ever be the same again. We had each been broken into different patterns, the cracks deeper and sharper in some areas than in others, and expecting our jagged edges to fit the way they used to was the ultimate folly.

One thing remained true, though. Boaz coped through violence, sarcasm and suffocating affection. As much as I wanted to kick him in the shin and stomp away, I had to remember he was trying. That might not be enough in the end. But it was a start. It was enough to earn him a chance to prove this might work.

“I can handle Linus.” The moment I got in over my head, I would reach out. I would ask Amelie to sit in on our lessons or move them to Woolly. Surely she would allow Linus to trespass for a few hours as long as I was there to act as a buffer. “I know you mean well.” I walked into his arms and wrapped him up tight, his heart pounding furious and wild under my ear. “I know you’re protecting me.” I breathed him in, his scent so familiar I equated it with being home. “But I need him.”

“I know, I know.” His arms came around me, crushing me, and he rested his chin on top of my head. “I’m sorry.” His sigh rustled my hair. “I worry about you, Squirt. That’s all. I hate that I’m not here to protect you.” He pressed a warm kiss to my temple. “I’m proud of you. So damn proud.” Another brush of his lips attempted to distract me. “I’m a shit friend for robbing you of your pride. I never should have implied your grades weren’t earned or that your accomplishments weren’t deserved. Forgive me?”

“Consider yourself on probation.” I pinched his nipple and twisted until he shouted. He jumped back, releasing me, and I shook my head. “I don’t remember you being this possessive. You traded girlfriends like some boys traded baseball cards. I wasn’t expecting you to try and cram me into a plastic sleeve in your binder.”

He rubbed his chest with the heel of his palm. “Would that work?”

The poor guy sounded so hopeful, I almost hated to burst his bubble. Almost. “That’s going to be a hard no.”

“I don’t have a binder,” he confessed. “I don’t even own a plastic sleeve. I’ve never wanted to keep anyone.”

“Boaz,” I whispered, but he must not have heard.

“Amelie warned me I was suffocating you.” He palmed his nape and scrubbed a hand over his bristly hair. “Tell me when to poke air holes in the lid, even if you have to poke air holes in me to get my attention.” He tried for a charming smile, but his eyes were too raw to make it stick. “The army proved I’m trainable. I’m willing to learn if you’re willing to teach me.”

“We’ll have to figure it out together.” One day at a time. “Even if that means figuring out we can’t be together.”

A fraction of his confidence made a reappearance. “As long as you’ll still love me.”

“Boaz,” I told him with complete honesty, “I would have no idea how or where to stop.” Just what flavor of love existed between us required more extensive taste testing. “Are we still on for our date?”

“Do you mean are we still going out on the town, after which I will expect no sexual favors in exchange for providing you with dinner and entertainment? Yes. We are.”

“You are a true gentleman, Boaz Pritchard.”

“Can I pay you a dollar to say that again so I can record it?” He palmed his cell and wiggled it at me, his good mood restored. “Mom will never believe a girl said that about me without being coerced.”

“Except if you give me a dollar, that’s bribery. Pretty sure that’s the same thing as coercion.”

“Hmm.” He tapped the phone against his chin. “I could tickle you until you say it.”

I took a cautious step out of range. “So now you’ve escalated to threats?”

“What are a few threats between friends?” He rushed me, scooped me up and dumped me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His fingers proved they still remembered all my most ticklish spots. The crease at the bend of my knee, the spot where my neck met my shoulder. My ribs. Goddess, my ribs. “Am I a gentleman now?”

“No,” I howled between bouts of laughter. “You’re a holy terror.”

“Hey, that’s not nice.” He smacked my butt, a stinging punishment. “Only my sister gets away with calling me HT.” He clomped up the steps with me writhing on his shoulder, and Woolly—the traitor—dialed the porch light up to blinding in greeting. “Aww shucks, Woolly. I missed you too.” And because he was an unrepentant flirt who couldn’t help himself, even where houses were concerned, he tacked on, “Your foundation is looking mighty fine tonight.”

The curtains in the front windows rustled in her version of tittering laughter.

“Woolly,” I panted, breathless from laughter and the bite of his hard shoulder in my soft gut, “I could really use a little help here.”

The front door swung open before we reached it so he could walk right in, potato sack and all.

Glowering up at the chandelier in the foyer as we passed beneath it, I growled, “That’s not what I meant.”

Once we hit the living room, he set me on my feet. “Get dressed.”

Rubbing my stomach, I noticed he was dressed as casually as me. “Is this the dress code?”

“Nope.” A smug grin curved his lips. “I have to go home and pretty up for you before we leave.” A trace of his earlier caginess returned. “After Taz texted me about the missed lesson, I figured I should go pry you from Linus’s clutches before I changed, in case things got messy.”

The idea of things getting messy between Boaz and Linus was laughable. Boaz was a hunk of muscle trained for war, and he was a natural-born brawler. Then again, Linus had a wraith on his side. Maybe the match would be more even than I’d first thought.

Thinking of the wraith left me with the unhappy reminder that Linus would be given a blow-by-blow accounting of our evening thanks to Cletus.

“Shorts, dress, pants, skirt...?” I rolled my hand. “What’s appropriate?”

“Wear whatever you want, whatever makes you comfortable.” He backed out onto the porch. “I’ll match our plans to your outfit.”

Woolly closed the door behind him with a sigh from the nearest floor register.

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