TWENTY-THREE #4
Slowly, Zarek removed the glove, but he paused as if scared to hurt her.
She didn’t hesitate as this might be her way out. So she clasped his hand tight, bracing for the worst as skin met skin.
But…
There was no fire or searing flare, only a steady warmth. Yet it was more than that; Angela felt the shift that stirred under his skin. The tight coils of tension softened as he exhaled slowly and his eyes lifted to meet hers.
In this light, they were a stunning teal as clear as sea glass. They were so deep they could swallow a person whole.
If what he’d said was true, that gaze could unravel a mind.
And yet her mismatched eyes held his. The pressure didn’t invade.
There was no push or pull, only that curling of his magick like a dragon lowering its head to wrap around itself, like a cat padding its bed to purr instead of breathing fire.
She didn’t break eye contact, even though she felt the intensity of this moment, she did not let go of his hand.
In return, his fingers tightened slightly, not possessively, while searching her eyes for answers.
“You don’t burn,” he said quietly, as if recalibrating centuries of certainty.
The staves along his leathers did not flare like they had the night he’d battled the Black Cloaks, where the air had crackled with the electricity of his power.
And the dragon-like layer of power beneath his skin did not strike.
It settled.
For a fleeting, irrational, unexplainable moment, Angela felt the same comfort she’d felt last night, when she’d held his hand while he slept, where his steady presence had somehow allowed her to drift into a sleep free from nightmares.
“So…” She cleared her throat as if to put some level of professionalism into this negotiation. “Do you accept the terms of our treaty?”
“On one condition.” His thumb brushed once against her knuckles as the faintest curve touched his lips. “You will attend Magick School within the Keep.”
Her spine stiffened. “The what?”
“It’s a safe place where we train those born with magick. In this realm, it is studied and mastered.”
She tried to withdraw her hand.
But he did not release her. “You will not be harmed. I will see to it personally. And no one will test you without my approval first. I promise you, I will keep you safe.”
There it was again—that protective weight beneath his words, as if bound by the oath he’d made.
But she also heard what he was trying not to say: they want to know what you are. “I don’t know why you want me to study when I’m no different from everyone else. I’m normal.”
“Hiding what makes you unique will not protect you. But learning what you have can help you. Angela, you have the right to understand what you can do.”
“And if I refuse?”
His jaw shifted slightly. “Then you’ll remain here under my protection until Katarra is neutralized. And you will remain ignorant of what makes you a target.”
There was his counterweight, matching her terms with unnerving precision.
The cleverness of this captain surprised her.
He was more than a soldier carrying a sword.
He was an opponent across a chessboard, where the rules of this game were only just beginning to take shape between them.
What the prize would be at the end, she did not know, but if this was a step closer to getting herself home sooner, she’d take it.
“You seem quite confident I’ll choose to attend this school.”
His steady teal eyes did not waver, as if relishing the idea of looking at her and holding her hand. “I believe you hate not knowing more than you hate being different.”
How did he know?
She pulled her hand free, even though she felt cold away from him; she needed space. Or her fire poker.
Zarek must have felt the change, because his stance stiffened. “Just know that you will never be harmed while here in this realm under my personal protection, I swear it.” He even lowered his head in a bow. “On my life.”
“Okay…” No, nothing about this was okay, but she needed to do something. “Where do we begin, then?”
“My brothers want to meet you.” He headed for the door that magically unlocked. “And you’ll need clothing, food—”
“A drink of some kind would be good.”
A faint ghost of a smile curved the corners of his mouth. “We can manage that.”
She should have demanded to go home again, or screamed and rushed past him into that corridor. Instead, she asked, “How long am I stuck here?”
“As long as necessary. In the meantime, come…” He held out his hand to her.
Angela stared at it.
This was the same hand that had snatched her from her world like a caveman staking his claim. And now it was held out to her as if gentlemanly manners once again existed.
She took it.
Not because he seemed positively charming.
Come on, she’d just negotiated a treaty from behind a locked bathroom door with a fire poker to get a taste of freedom.
So, she slid her fingers into his hand because, for now, it was the smartest move on the board—she just had to learn who the players were and what kind of game she was playing to get herself home.