The Indigo Spell

after you.” Apparently her hard-core character in the arena hadn’t been entirely faked.

We parted ways from her, and before long, Marcus and I were on the road to Palm Springs. I tried to get more information out of him, but he wouldn’t bite. Instead, he kept complimenting me and saying things that were only one step away from pickup lines. Judging from the way he’d bantered with Sabrina too, I didn’t think there was anything particularly special about me. I thought he was just used to women fawning all over him. He was cute, I’d give him that, but it took a lot more than that to win me over.

It was sunset when we pulled up to Adrian’s apartment, and I belatedly wondered if I should’ve given him some advance warning. Too late now.

We walked up to the door, and I knocked three times. “It’s open,” a voice called from within. I stepped inside, and Marcus followed.

Adrian was working on an abstract painting of what looked like a crystalline building from some fantasy world. “Unexpected treat,” he said. His eyes fell on Marcus and widened. “I’ll be damned. You found him.”

“Thanks to you,” I said.

Adrian glanced over at me. A smile started to form—and then instantly dried up. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh.” I lightly touched the swollen spot. It still smarted but wasn’t as painful as it had been earlier. I spoke my next words without thinking. “Marcus hit me.”

I’d never seen Adrian move so fast. Marcus had no chance to react, probably because he was exhausted from our earlier encounter. Adrian shoved Marcus up against a wall and—to my complete and utter astonishment— punched Marcus. Adrian had once joked that he never dirtied his hands, so this was something I never could have prepared myself for. In fact, if Adrian was going to attack someone, I would’ve expected something magical and spirit-driven. Yet . . . as I watched him, I could see that anything as thoughtful as magic was far from Adrian’s mind. He had kicked into primal mode. See a threat. Go after it. It was yet another surprising—yet fascinating—side of the enigma that was Adrian Ivashkov.

Marcus quickly got his bearings and responded in kind. He pushed Adrian back, wincing a little. Even with his injury, he was still strong. “What the hell? Who are you?”

“The guy that’s going to kick your ass for hurting her,” said Adrian.

He tried another punch, but Marcus dodged and managed to land a hit that knocked Adrian back into one of his easels. When Marcus swung again, Adrian eluded him with a maneuver that was straight out of Wolfe’s class. I would’ve applauded him if I wasn’t so appalled by the situation. I knew some girls thought it was sexy to have men fight over them. Not me.

“You guys, stop!” I cried.

“No one’s going to throw you around and get away with it,” said Adrian.

“What happened with us has nothing to do with you,” retorted Marcus.

“Everything about her has to do with me.”

The two circled around each other, waiting for the other to pounce. “Adrian,” I exclaimed. “It was an accident.”

“Doesn’t look like an accident,” he replied, never taking his eyes off Marcus.

“You should listen to her,” growled Marcus. The easygoing guy I’d met earlier was gone, but I guess being attacked would do that to you. “It might save you from getting your pretty face wrecked. How much styling did you have to do to get your hair like that?”

“At least I brush my hair,” said Adrian.

Marcus lunged forward—but not directly at Adrian. He grabbed a painting off an easel and used it as a weapon. Adrian again managed a dodge, but the painting didn’t fare so well. The canvas tore, and Marcus tossed it aside, ready for the next advance.

Adrian spared the canvas a brief glance. “Now you’ve really pissed me off.”

“Enough!” Something told me they weren’t going to listen to reason. This required direct intervention. I stalked across the room and pushed myself between them.

“Sydney, get out of the way,” ordered Adrian.

“Yeah,” agreed Marcus. “For once he’s got something worthwhile to say.”

“No!” I held out my hands to separate them. “Both of you back off—now!” My voice rang through the apartment, and I refused to budge. “Back. Off,” I repeated.

“Sydney. . . .” Adrian’s voice was a little more uncertain than when he’d told me to get out of the way.

I looked back and forth between them, giving each guy a healthy glare. “Adrian, it really was an accident. Marcus, this is the guy who’s going to help you, so show some respect.”

This, more than anything, seemed to derail them.

“Wait,” said Adrian. “Did you say ‘help’?”

Marcus was equally flabbergasted. “This asshole is the spirit user?”

“You’re both acting like idiots,” I scolded. The next time I had nothing to do, I’d have to get a book on testosterone-driven behavior. This was out of my league. “Adrian, can we talk somewhere in private? Like the bedroom?”

Adrian agreed, but not before giving Marcus one last menacing look. I told Marcus to stay where he was and hoped he wouldn’t take off or call in someone else with a gun. Adrian followed me to his bedroom and shut the door behind us.

“You know,” he said, “under normal circumstances, you inviting me to the bedroom would be the highlight of my day.”

I crossed my arms and sat on the bed. I did so out of simple fatigue, but a moment later, I was struck by what I was doing. This is where Adrian sleeps. I’m touching the covers he’s wrapped in every night. What does he wear? Does he wear anything?

I jumped up.

“It really was an accident,” I told him. “Marcus thought I was there to abduct him.”

Adrian, having no such hang-ups with the bed, sat down. He winced, probably from the blow to the stomach. “If someone like you showed up to abduct me, I’d let you.”

Even when he was in pain, it never stopped with him. “I’m serious. It was just instinct, and he apologized over and over in the car once he realized who I was.”

That got his attention. “He knew you?”

I gave him a recap of my day in Santa Barbara. He listened avidly, nodding along, his expression shifting back and forth between intrigue and surprise.

“I didn’t realize when I brought him back here that you’d inflict more damage,” I said, once I’d finished the story.

“I was defending your honor.” Adrian gave me that devil-may-care smile that always managed to both infuriate and captivate me. “Pretty manly, huh?”

“Very,” I said dryly. I didn’t like violence, but him doing something so out of character for me actually was kind of incredible. Not that I’d ever tell him that. “You did Wolfe proud. Do you think you can manage not to have any more ‘manly’ displays while he’s here? Please?”

Adrian shook his head, still smiling. “I’ve said over and over, I’d do anything for you. I just keep hoping it’ll be something like, ‘Adrian, let’s go hot tubbing’ or ‘Adrian, take me out for fondue.’”

“Well, sometimes we have to—did you say fondue?” Sometimes it was impossible to follow Adrian’s train of thought. “Why in the world would I ever say that?”

He shrugged. “I like fondue.”

I didn’t even know what to say about that. This whole day was getting more and more exhausting. “I’m sorry I’m not asking for something as glamorous as melted cheese. But for now, I need to find out about Marcus and his group—and the tattoo.”

Adrian recognized the situation’s severity. He stood up and gently touched the lily on my cheek. “I don’t trust him. He could be using you. But then . . . I don’t like the idea of this controlling you either.”

“That makes two of us,” I admitted, losing some of my earlier toughness.

He traced the line of my cheek for a few breathless moments and then dropped his hand. “It might be worth helping him to get some answers.”

“Will you promise not to get in any more fights? Please?”