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“Don’t touch me.” She glanced up at him from underneath her lashes, making sure he saw the iron will behind her soft rebuke.
Her reprimand was necessary to ensure he didn’t interfere with the bloodletting—if he touched her again, especially skin on skin, she wasn’t at all confident in her ability to keep her equilibrium around him. Bad enough that the insidious idea of sharing his bed for a night had hijacked her thoughts for the better part of the day, but the fact that he seemed to have given up pressing the issue following his apology only made the irrational craving to take him up on his offer worse.
With all the spells she knew, why couldn’t she simply hex away her vexing attraction to him?
She sighed inwardly. Alas, magic that manipulated emotions—be it love potions or spells meant to achieve the opposite—had a risk of corrupting the mind. And she’d seen enough of it to steer clear of that kind of power.
Tallak’s expression hardened as he watched her fill the jar halfway with her blood, his amber eyes lit by some untamed emotion. How she wanted to stare into those eyes, explore their depths with as much time as their fascinating color demanded, but all she ever allowed herself were brief glances. Anything more than two seconds whispered of danger, of a connection better not forged. Eyes betrayed too much.
Or at least, hers usually did.
She sealed the wound in her wrist with a quick spell and peered at the wall again. This might not work at all. Maybe her instinct was wrong. In any case, it was worth a try, though hopefully she wouldn’t have to paint the entire wall.
Without further ado, she splashed the blood from the jar at the spot most likely to reveal what she sought.
Bright red lines flashed on the faded wallpaper, their shape forming outward from the drops of blood thrown at the wall, until a sign flared to life, about three feet by four feet.
“What the hell?” Tallak leaped back, his gaze on the wall. “What is that?”
Hazel ground her teeth, the proof to her suspicion a lead weight in her gut. “A sigil. An old one, part of a rune-like language that can enhance spells or lock magic to a place. Sometimes used to channel power…”
The bright crimson lost its glow, fading back into obscurity until the sign vanished and only the wall remained, splashed with her blood.
She cursed softly. Too fast. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at it.
“Here,” she said, handing her phone to Tallak. “Take a few pics when it comes back.”
“Wait—you’re not going to—”
Grabbing the knife again, she once more slashed her wrist to bleed into the jar.
“Would you stop cutting yourself, woman!” Did she imagine that, or was there a desperate edge to his voice?
“Why?” she asked calmly. “Does this make you uncomfortable? I thought you enjoyed wading through blood.”
Tallak paced behind her, and she had the distinct impression he muttered something like, “Not yours,” under his breath.
“Here,” he growled and thrust his wrist under her nose. “Take it from me.”
The hairs on his arm were blond, like threads of golden silk on his tanned skin. Strong muscles bunched next to defined veins, and for a moment, the sight arrested her. She resisted the urge to lean forward and inhale his scent, to touch her lips to those hairs and see if they felt as soft as they looked.
“As much as I appreciate the offer,” she said and took a step back to put distance between her and the temptation of his dark power thrumming against her senses, “it won’t work. Only witch blood will make the sigil appear.”
She healed the cut once more with a muttered word, stowed the knife in her purse, and splashed the blood at the wall again. As before, the sigil flared into view, its power coming loose from the spell that concealed it.
Beside her, Tallak snapped several pictures in the few seconds the sign remained visible, then handed her the phone.
“What does it mean?” He indicated the wall with a jerk of his head.
“I don’t know yet.” Pressing her lips together, she studied the photos he’d taken. “I’ll have to do some research. I don’t know all sigils by heart, and then there’s the complication that a sigil can be used for any number of spells to achieve different aims. I need to know the combination of the exact ritual performed here with this sigil in order to figure out the purpose of this…”
Her voice trailed away as Tallak leaned over her shoulder to examine the picture on the phone. His power, his heat, brushed against her back, his scent hushing the smell of blood for the moment—something wild and chaotic, with a bite to it that made her shiver. Her heart did a pathetic stumbling thump and kicked up into high gear, the hairs on her arms and neck rising in primal recognition of the demon lingering behind her.
She barely realized that she’d started leaning back—into him—when he stepped away. The loss of his heat and presence was like a physical blow, and a part of her ached.
It had been too long since she’d been with a man. That was all. Maybe she should go on one of those dating apps Lily had suggested to her a few months back. Just to find a guy to…scratch this itch. Someone, anyone, other than the one male who simultaneously made her want to slap and kiss him.
Ah, but then again, getting intimate with a man she barely knew hadn’t worked for her in the past. After Robert’s death, she’d tried the whole going-dancing-to-find-a-casual-partner-for-the-night thing because she wasn’t yet ready for a new relationship, but she’d bailed on the guy before they’d even gotten to his place. It just…wasn’t her.
