Chapter 3 #2
My ears burned with embarrassment. Looking down at myself, the toned muscles I'd worked so hard to strengthen did appear small next to his bulking arms and legs. But I had curves in all the right places, the places a woman should have them.
“I didn't say that.” The heat coming off his skin warmed mine a little too intimately.
The sting of humiliation chafed, even after hearing his clarification. “I'm older than I look. I've done things you couldn't imagine,” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Yes, practically pressing yourself up against me on this ledge screams of your vast experience,” he muttered. The instant and primitive need that arose to claw at him would be completely inappropriate. With effort, I squashed it down.
Concentrating on steady breathing, I did my best to reign in my rising temper. “Don't flatter yourself,” I lifted my chin. “I've had enough experience to know that jerks aren't my type.”
“Mhm,” he drawled, sarcasm heavy. Defiance sent blood rushing to my cheeks.
“You probably don't even know how to please anyone besides yourself.”
His eyes narrowed. “You talk big, but you wouldn't last one minute if I made the smallest effort.”
“And you talk even bigger. You’re not the first arrogant man I’ve met, you don’t know the first thing about me. I’d never fall for your tricks.” His eyelids lowered, dark eyes smoldering beneath.
“Challenge accepted,” he leaned his face toward mine, and my eyebrows shot to my hairline as realization of his intentions dawned. I scrambled away and back to my feet, moving out of his reach. He followed me up.
“What? No! Not challenge accepted. I'm not interested in playing games with you.”
“For a former criminal, you’re a terrible liar,” his voice roughened, dropping lower. A shiver raced down my arms. Staying near him would guarantee he'd win his self-imposed challenge. The wind blew his scent to me, like earth and rain. It was raw and heady. Irrationally, I liked it.
He was nothing like Jessarian.
Instinctively and against all logic, my body leaned forward toward him. He reached out a knuckle, barely a whisper-light touch against my chin.
Something burning hot, almost painful, pressed down on my chest. Wincing, I pulled away from his hand. What was that?
He flinched, eyes lowering down to his own chest as he leaned away from me. “What..?” he tugged at the neckline of his shirt, pulling it down to reveal unmarred skin and wisps of dark hair. I sucked in a breath.
He drew it down further. A Skinscript glyph marked his skin in the middle of his chest, simple lines with curving ends. His eyebrows shot up, jaw tensing.
Peering down at myself where the searing sensation had been, my eyes widened.
Dark lines peeked over the hem of my shirt.
On my skin. He noticed them at the same time.
Before I could react, he reached out and yanked at the edge of my shirt, pulling it down scandalously far to reveal the same glyph I’d seen on his chest. I reeled myself away from him, out of his reach. “What the hell? What did you do to me?”
“Me?” He sounded incredulous. “I should be asking you that.”
“You’re the one with a million Skinscripts!” I argued. “Are they contagious?”
“No,” he muttered, eyeing the mark peeking out of the edge of my shirt. I pulled my neckline up to block his view, glaring at him. He made a low humming noise. “Peculiar.”
“Not peculiar! Take it back!” I demanded. Skinscript was tightly controlled by the Ascendancy, and I was still on probation. If I was caught with unauthorized Skinscript, I had no idea what the consequences would be. They wouldn’t be good.
I could be sent back to the Reformatory.
He was studying me now, eyes lit with far too much interest. His mouth drew straight into a thin line.
“Skinscript isn’t something you can undo,” he said, tone grave.
“But it’s not something that just happens either.
It’s an involved process to receive even one glyph.
This is…” he trailed off, searching for the words. “New.”
My pulse was pounding so hard it pulsed in my toes. “What is it?” I asked.
He frowned as he considered me. “I have no idea.”
“How can you not know? You’re covered in Skinscript!” Panic was boiling over and creeping into my voice. Incoherent rage wasn’t far behind it.
“I’ve never seen this glyph before,” he admitted. “And Skinscript doesn’t appear out of thin air. Much less on two people at the same time.” He paused for a moment before adding. “If this is even Skinscript.”
Putting my hands over my face, I tried to breathe through the tension that was undoing my ability to reason.
This man was a complete stranger. I didn’t know much about Skinscript, its secrets were so jealously defended by the Ascendancy.
He could be lying, or he could be wrong.
This mark had to be removable, or normal.
Maybe it would disappear by tomorrow. Or maybe everyone on Mesmoria had one of these glyphs on their chests now.
It could be the Devourer’s will, part of the greater Tide.
I was thinking too hard about this. Skinscript was magic, unexplainable and unknown.
Either way, this man was trouble. And that was something I had more than enough of already. Putting as much distance as possible between myself and him was urgent.
I turned away so I could bolt back down the cliff. A calloused hand closed around my wrist before I could take more than one step. Tugging my arm was futile, his grip was firm around my wrist.
“Skinscript glyphs are an honor,” he said. “And they belong only to Voyagers.”
A childish daydream of running away from all of my problems and living off the land as a fugitive was mutating itself closer to a plan in my mind.
It would be easier to deteriorate into a life of crime than face the current trajectory that lay ahead of me.
There wouldn't be any anxiety-inducing Mistrun, tiresome fiance, distressing illegal Skinscript, or daily threat of death from fighting monstrous creatures as a glorified courier if I became a Voyager.
It would be a constant challenge to stay one step ahead of the Ascendancy as a criminal, and out of reach of Nikolach and his cronies.
But the extended freedom might be worth it.
The fantasy skewered itself as it collided with reality.
As one person, I was independent, capable, and resourceful.
But not invulnerable, not against the Ascendancy and the reigning drug lord on the island.
The hidden places that were safe from the Ascendancy's attention were rife with criminals who worked for Nikolach or Yeshar.
Nowhere was safe from both. I'd be dead within a month. None of the possible futures ahead of me looked appealing, though.
“You can’t show that Skinscript to anyone,” the stranger stressed, dark eyes boring into mine. “I don’t know what it means, but it’s on both of us.”
An absurd laugh escaped. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I am dead fucking serious.” His eyes darkened beneath the shadow of lowered eyebrows. “You cannot show that to anyone, ever.”
“Fine,” I said, trying again to pull my arm free. He didn’t budge. “I won’t.”
His eyes narrowed. “Swear it.”
“Sorry, I’m all out of sworn oaths for today.” I yanked at my arm, and his grip loosened enough for me to get free. “I’m leaving.”
“No,” he ordered, moving to intercept me. “This isn’t something that just happens. We need to make sense of this.”
“What’s there to talk about? I’m supposed to believe what you tell me?
After you did this?” I gestured to the spot on my chest where the glyph nested.
“You don’t know what it is. I don’t know what it is.
Besides one more problem I don’t need. And who cares anyway, it’s not like it’s somewhere where anyone will see it. ”
“Skinscript is dangerous, and ignorance is even more dangerous.” He took another step toward me as I turned to leave. Ignoring him, I began climbing down, even as he called after me. “You’ll see for yourself during tomorrow’s Mistrun.”