I heard some snorts of laughter from behind, and the distinct sound of Yael saying. “Half a click. Told you … you owe me a hundred tokens.”
It didn’t surprise me that Yael had found a way to turn that into a competition. As I lay there, breathing in the dirty floor smell—some dweller was really letting the team down in this hall. Probably that dweller was me, but whatever—I heard their steps as the five of them closed in on me.
I groaned and lifted my head just enough to thump it back against the floor. It’s going to be impossible to hide this from them any longer. Resigning myself to the fact, I rolled over onto my back. Aros wrapped his golden hands around my biceps and hauled me to my feet.
“What can’t you hide from us any longer?” he asked when I was standing again.
The quiet and semi-darkness of the hall enveloped our group, and I could have been mistaken, but it seemed like the boys were looking a little wary of me, standoffish almost. Which was good. I needed them to be cold because otherwise I got flustered and forgot that they were leagues above me, members of the blessed sol realm.
“Rocks …” Yael prompted. “Don’t make me use my persuasion on you, I’ve been going easy with you but I can make you tell me.”
Oh hell to the no … he did not just say that, right?
My rage must have been clearly reflected across my face because I saw a few of them exchange a nervous glance before they took a step away from me. Not even a sacred sol was immune to the effects of a pissed-off woman. Lifting my finger, I jabbed it right into Yael’s hard chest. It hurt like hell, and he even caught my wince, so I decided to use their own tactics of intimidation against them. I drew myself to my full, miserable height, and pushed myself closer to him.
“Don’t ever use your gift on me, sol,” I growled. “Dwellers are not play things. We might have drawn the unlucky hand on this piece-of-crap world, but we are not nothing.” I jabbed him harder, hoping like hell his rock-chest didn’t break my finger. “Not nothing.”
His face was like stone, stone which had been carved and moulded by the very gods themselves. I knew I couldn’t blink, that I had to maintain my serious stare or I would fail at this competition which had arisen. Competitive shit-sol. Yael was such a pain with this stuff, and yet I sort of thought it was awesome at the same time. My left eye started to twitch, my fingertip aching from being pressed so hard.
“You sure you don’t want to step back, Rocks?” Yael’s hypnotic voice rolled over me, and I knew he wasn’t hitting me with the full force of his power, yet he still affected my will.
Gritting my teeth hard enough to crack them, I didn’t blink, or move, or speak. I continued with the battle of wills that I was determined to win.
Then he kissed me.
Before I even saw him coming … his lips were on mine, and I was pulled tightly against his body. I lost all time and space, my breathing cut off as my head spun. Before the pressure could deepen, Yael stepped away from me and I barely managed to remain on my feet.
“I win,” he said, turning and strolling away. All causal. Like he hadn’t just … kissed the hell out of me.
“You cheated,” I shouted after him. My eyes flicked between the other four. “He cheated!”
Siret shook his head. “What did you expect? He fights dirty. We all do.”
I was breathing really deeply. Almost embarrassingly deeply. Just a kiss. My body was reacting like I’d just run up and down the steps to Blesswood a few hundred times. I wanted to go after Yael, probably to smack him in the face, since the chest-poking had done nothing. I should use a knife or something next time. Get all badass and sol-like.
Coen distracted me by stepping in at my back, his giant form crowding over me and wiping all Yael-revenge-thoughts from my mind. I could see flickers of fire and the promise of pain in his eyes, but maybe I was just hallucinating because Yael’s kiss had fried my mind. His hand dragged along my arm and with it came these strange little sparks of energy. They hurt … sort of, but they also felt good. Like he was igniting all of the receptors along my skin, bringing my body to life. I almost missed his words, my eyes glued to the hand trailing my arm.
“Willa,” his deep voice caught my attention. “We have to be up early tomorrow for the moon-cycle trials in the arena. The gods will be sitting on their pampered asses expecting us to perform like street monkeys, which means you have exactly one click to tell us what you’re hiding from us.”
I looked down at my feet, trying to block him out. His hand moved again, drawing those strange, aching sparks over my skin, and my breath shuddered out, my eyes closing. His grip suddenly shifted, the light brushing motion disappearing as his fingers curled around my arm, just above my elbow. He pulled roughly, forcing me against his chest. His free-hand fell to the back of my head.
Is he … hugging me right now?
Someone snorted, and Coen’s chest vibrated with a laugh that he quickly cut off.