Killian chuckles, yanking me back harder so I almost bounce off his chest.
“You want to fight me?” he asks, his tone low and dark and dripping with intention.
I purse my lips, throw my hand back, and just barely miss getting a good grip on his balls before he lets go of my shirt and gets out of the way. Everything about me is amusing him today.
“Well, if you two are done, Kitten, come over here and take a seat. Killian will watch our… connection –”
“I should get Pax back,” Killian says, as if something just occurred to him. If I didn’t know the guy better, I’d say there’s just a tiny tinge of fear laced through the word ‘should.’
“Clearly, Pax thinks this is a good idea,” Roarke says.
“Clearly – dumbass.”
“Just, if something goes wrong, come in swinging,” Roarke says, taking me by the shoulders and directing me downhill from the washing vat and the pen now decorated in dripping clothes.
“Wrong?” I ask.
Wrong is not what a girl wants to hear before using someone else’s magic.
“Magic can always go wrong, especially mine,” Roarke says.
He doesn’t stop as he explains, steering me all the way to the edge of the stream, then manhandling me down to sit on a rock.
“I’m not touching either of you,” Killian grunts, like maybe the contact would make things go more wrong.
“That’s why I said come in swinging.”
“All right, you two old-married-serving-ladies ready to include me in this conversation?” I ask.
“No.” But he doesn’t come any closer.
“All right,” Roarke says, sitting on the rock opposite me.
The narrow stream cuts through the rocks on my right, full of clear, almost sparkling water with little fish darting in and out of sight. On my left is the path; the cottage is a little behind me, and the boulder’s a little in front, with Killian poised and ready to attack in between.
“He’s not waiting to attack me, is he?” I ask.
Roarke shakes his head. “Here, give me your arm.”
I obey, holding out my double-layered arm. One black shirt, one wet white shirt, then one arm inside.
He doesn’t ask, just takes my arm and says, “Close your eyes.”
I obey, feeling him carefully roll the sleeves back.
“Allure needs to feel like this,” he says, holding my palm up and exposing the delicate inside of my wrist.
“We’ve had this conversation,” I say, expecting the familiar warmth of his fingers laced with magic – but instead getting a single droplet of water.
It lands near the crook of my elbow and starts a slow trail towards my hand. Roarke angles and twists my arm, guiding the droplet into my palm.
“You can’t do this,” he says, pulling my arm and plunging the whole thing into the freezing stream.
I squeal, eyes popping open as I struggle to yank my arm back. His grip on my wrist relaxes.
“What was that for?” I demand, trying to dry my hand on the stomach of my shirt.
“It seems to work for Killian,” he says.
I glare up the hill at the big guy.
“It works,” he says, a little smile on his lips that makes me wish I could pick him up and dump him in the water.
“Okay. Do you remember any of the instructions I gave you before we healed your arm?”
“Why didn’t you just ask me instead of sticking my hand in the water?”
“I’m asking now. What do you remember?”
I shrug. “I remember concentrating. Not much else.”
“Do you remember harmony?” he asks, so softly that I’m pretty convinced he doesn’t want to ask me at all.
“No,” I whisper back.
“To let yourself be the thing you are doing is to find harmony. That complete balance. Allure isn’t an order or a contrast or even an effort. The Allure needs to come naturally.”
Harmony. I roll the word around in my mind as I say, “That’s not going to work for me. I am mortal. Using Allure is being something that I am not.”
“But you have to use it as if it is yours. Pax wants you to Allure time.”
“Why?”
“Because that is possibly the most useful skill among us for self-defense. Slowing time is what allows us to move so fast. We don’t actually move any quicker, but the rest of the world does move slower.”
“Then why do you call it speed? Why not slow?”
He chuckles at me. “You call it speed, or Saber-super-speed, I think. I just call it Allure.”
I groan, feeling my stomach rumble at the same time.
“Here,” he says, stretching his fingers into the crystalline water and drawing out a handful of pebbles. “The aim of the task is to stop the stone before it splashes.” He opens his palm and counts the stones. “We’ll give it eleven goes. Ready?”
I nod.
He flicks a stone, and it falls almost faster than I can track into the stream. Splash. Gone.
“Well, this is hopeless,” I mutter.
Behind me Killian chuckles, then orders, “Try harder.”
“Throw the thing slower then,” I tell Roarke.
He flicks another, and a little red fish zips from behind a rock, completely distracting me.
Five stones later, and I hold my hand out, demanding he hand the stones over.
I roll them between my fingers, all slightly different sizes or shapes but all smooth and warm. Allure-magic-warmed. I actually don’t want to throw any of them away, but I do. One at a time. Each one splashing down before I can even think any kind of Allure command.
“All right, take a break,” Roarke says, diving his hand into the water and making a small pile of pebbles on the ground in front of him.
I turn away from the stream. Killian hasn’t really moved, still watching.
“You realize the point of this is so you don’t kill yourself,” Roarke says.
“Fight first, recover later,” Killian corrects.
“Fight well enough not to require recovery,” Roarke says, and Killian nods his agreement – clearly updating his opinion.
I ignore them. Talking about me seems to be a trend among my Elorsins, so
