“Did you need something?” I asked, approaching her.
She caught my wrist and pinned me back to the wall with her sapphire gaze. “You are my champion in all things, Sophea, and I appreciate that fact. I didn’t understand until now why he brought us together, but it has been made clear to me. Do not fail me. All will be lost if you do.”
“Who brought us together?” I asked, but she simply closed the door in my face. I stared at the wood for a few seconds, then sighed, carefully locked the cabin door behind me, and went out to find Rowan.
I badly wanted some answers and just hoped he’d be able to provide them.
Sixteen
“I like Gabriel’s attitude,” I told Rowan when I finally found him.
He looked first surprised, then angry. “You’re my mate! You’re supposed to favor me over all others!”
I laughed and licked the tip of his nose. “You’re adorable when you’re enraged about something so silly. Calm down, I didn’t say I liked Gabriel—I said I liked his attitude. And by that I was referring to the fact that he was so willing to do something that would please May. Do you live to make me happy?”
“Of course,” he said, relaxing enough to give me a look that damn near steamed my cheerleader socks.
“Well then, since Ipy’s death isn’t the tragedy that I thought it would be—and really, can we have a moment to process the fact that everyone is just fine with her being killed and turned into a ghost?—what say we go back to my room and I can harness your fire?” I gave him a come-hither look. “Mrs. P said Ipy won’t return in spirit form for a few hours, so we might as well put them to good use and let me try to put this mark on you, so we can match.”
“Only if you promise to do a couple of cheers for me afterward,” he said, goosing me as I sashayed past him.
I had to admit, the fire thing sounded a lot easier than it was. Rowan, lying facedown on my bed, said patiently, “How long is this going to take?”
“I don’t know,” I said, looking down at his bare neck. “I’ve never done this.”
“Just spit a bit of fire at me, so we can get down to business.”
“What business?” I asked, thinking he wanted to discuss the magic ring issue again.
“I’m going to sex you up until you can’t think straight.”
“Oooh. I like the sound of that. All right, brace yourself, one sept mark coming up.”
He tensed as I leaned over him, gathered my thoughts, and imagined the ring of fire that frequently appeared at my feet when I was kissing Rowan, translated into a ball. A bright glow the approximate size of a quarter danced before my eyes. I mentally threw it at the back of his neck.
One of his shoulders twitched. “Was that it?”
I peered down at him. “Well… not really. I mean, I see a bit of a mark there. I think it’s a sword, and a C shape behind it. Is your mark supposed to be different from mine?”
“I don’t believe so. Maybe it’s not complete?”
“Oh, good point.” I summoned up more fire. This time, it formed a ball the size of a small lemon. I reached out to hold it, feeling that a little more control was in order, and tossed it up in the air a couple of times before splashing it onto the back of Rowan’s neck.
“I felt that,” he said, arching his neck for me to see.
“Did it hurt?” I asked, worried that I’d messed up.
“No.”
“Good. I see more of a circle shape, but it’s still not like the one you say is on the back of my neck. It’s more a K with a C behind it.”
“Try again.”
In all, it took three more balls of fire (the largest of which reached the size of an orange) before I managed to get the whole image imprinted on his neck. Two more balls of fire set fire to a nearby book and the pillowcase, but at long last I traced the image of a pair of crossed swords over the outline of a circle. “Okay, this is pretty cool, I have to admit, although it did ding my pride a bit that it took you only one try to do it, and I had to have several goes at it.”
Rowan rubbed his neck as he sat up. “That’s because I’m a wyvern.”
I smiled at him. “You sound so comfortable saying that, like it’s a perfectly natural thing.”
“It is natural, now,” he said, eyeing my sweater. “You look hot in that.”
I tugged the miniskirt down. “You don’t think it’s a bit too short? I don’t have long svelte legs like Mrs. P has now, and having a bunch of underwear models running around is making me paranoid that my legs are pudgy and stocky.”
“Your legs,” he said, rubbing a hand up the back of one of my legs, “are beyond delightful. They are in no way pudgy or stocky, but are instead delightfully satiny, well formed, and arousing beyond human belief.”