Page 18 of Research with Rivals
He chewed, but his brow furrowed. I guessed I already knew his answer. He thought the test was reckless. When heswallowed and opened his mouth to respond, I asked a different question.
“What about the object of significance he mentioned? Do you think it’s an anchor?”
“It’s possible, but we’d need more information about the object. We know nothing about the genesis of the connection—that’s when anchors are formed.” He paused, as if realizing what my question meant. “You read my paper?”
I cleared my throat. “You asked me to.”
He smiled briefly, then pressed his lips into a thin line. His thoughts must have grown more serious. Maybe he didn’t want to share information that he thought gave him an advantage. “Have you considered the origin of the magic?”
Fae history might not have been my expertise, but there was only one occasion that had brought together all four gods and all four Compass Points. “It had to be the creation of the fae, right?”
“I think so, too. I wish Lord Arctos would tell us. Clearly, he knows more than he’s sharing.” He looked toward the window, like he was thinking about something else. “I just can’t believe anyone would so recklessly apply blood magic to … fae and gods. That’s beyond even plants.”
The words landed like a backhanded compliment. “All blood magic is dangerous.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, as if he wished to do anything but continue this conversation. He still had half a sandwich left. This whole meal had been his idea. Now it just felt awkward and uncomfortable.
Unsure how to proceed, I unwrapped my sandwich. As I peeled back the paper, I caught my finger, slicing it. “Ouch.”
Ambrose set down his partial sandwich and reached for me. “Let me help with?—”
Blood was already welling in the small slice across my pointer finger. His large hand engulfed mine as the first drop fell. He quickly wrapped a napkin around the cut.
Every instinct told me to yank my hand back. I could take care of myself. Why was Ambrose doing this? But something about the way his hand fully surrounded mine was … nice.
I liked it. It almost silenced the near-constant press of my veil cat against my skin.
It had been a long time since someone held my hand like this. Since my shift started, I’d been too scared to let anyone in. The last man who’d tried to touch me, even with my consent, set my veil cat off in a way that had me fleeing the restaurant and never looking back. I hadn’t tried to date again.
This was different. A warmth spread through me as Ambrose pressed the napkin to the cut.
Not that this was a date.
I sucked in a breath. “Thank you.”
Our gazes locked. My heart was galloping like a herd of horses breaking loose their ties. This was worse than the cut itself. I might not have known what kind of shifter he was, but I knew he had an animal form. His elevated senses would ensure he could hear my body’s overreaction to him.
Could he hear my rapid heartbeat? My pulse pounding? Should I pull my hand back?
“If only all our interactions were this easy,” he said, interrupting my spiral of panic.
Easy? This interaction had me on the brink of hyperventilating and he still hadn’t let go of my hand. Did I want him to?
As he held the napkin to the cut, a purr in the back of my mind said no.
I grasped for reason. “What do you mean?” My brain spun. I wanted to talk about magic, not the complexities of everyconversation the two of us had. His warmth was distracting. How could one produce so much heat in this drafty library?
“Just that neither of us has stormed off yet. Maybe we should have meals together more often,” he said.
My heart stopped. That sounded like…
The only acknowledgment that he heard the implication, too, was the pink at the tips of his ears and his resolute glance out the window—unable to make eye contact. He spoke again, and it was so far from the same topic that I wasn’t sure what to make of it. “There is something inherently unstructured in blood magic … like?—”
Finally, he dropped my hand, and I felt its absence immediately. That warmth from his touch consolidated in my fingertip, where blood continued to well beneath the napkin. It felt like something in me was almost reaching for him.
I found myself waiting for the end of the sentence. I thought I knew where he was going. There was no time I felt more untethered from the daily flow of my life than when I shifted. Ambrose flushed, and I realized he wouldn’t complete his thought.
“What? I’m interested in the comparison.” I gestured for him to continue.
