Page 54 of Research with Rivals
My mind batted away the idea as soon as it sprang forth—a dream not worth considering, a hope not worth raising within my chest.
It was time to focus on our current predicament. No more stalling. We had to deal with the fact that Ambrose and I were sharing a bedroom tonight.
I gathered my pack from the back of the chair and stood. “I guess we should head up?”
Ambrose couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he tried. He scratched the back of his neck and held out the key in his open palm as if it were a rodent he’d killed and he was now reluctantly offering me proof of its disposal.
Would staying in a room with me be so bad? He’d done it only last night, hadn’t he?
Maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. I didn’t know where he had actually slept in his apartment. Most likely, it had been on the couch in the living space, a whole room away from me. We’d been close enough that the magic connecting us wasn’t aggravated, but far enough away that he could still pretend at personal space. Given this was an inn, not an apartment, I guessed our room would provide no such illusion.
The key was solid and heavy as I plucked it from his hand. Turning, I trudged up the stairs. His footfalls behind me were soundless, but I was painfully aware that he followed. I processed every creak of the wood, every crooked painting hung, and every candle burnt down to the wick between us and the room we’d share.
My thoughts flashed back to last night—to Ambrose joining me in the small clearing I’d found in the park. His large presence had invaded the space when I felt most lost. I was angry at his arrival, terrified of discovery, but I was also comforted. There was a small release of pressure when he was near.
The comfort is only because of the magic.
Maybe. I’d been going over the magic all day. Specifically, I considered how attracted I’d been to Ambrose before I shifted. His presence had been so consuming. It was the only thing I’d seen clearly. When everything had changed around me, his strength grounded me. His size had only made the imagery more compelling. Crowding me in should have sent off warning bells; instead, it forced me to focus—it made everything but him a mere distraction.
I couldn’t think about my shift itself without blushing. My veil cat had been so focused on him. She’d wanted him there, wanted to curl up in him the way a house cat curls up in a sliver of sun. I, on the other hand, had wanted to scratch out his hazel irises in hopes he wouldn’t remember what he saw.
The animal always knows.
He’d said that before he taught me how to shift. Did he know what his words had meant to me? I considered what he’d confessed about his intent in our current predicament. It had been so similar to mine. We’d both wanted to stop this … antagonistic spark between us. I’d wanted to grow together. He’d wanted to understand each other. Neither required romance.
With each step, my heart raced faster as I ran out of ways to tell myself that I would sleep in the same room as Ambrose Yarrow, a male whom I was somehow magically connected to but was also attracted to. And I had to admit that attraction was wholly separate from, and even pre-dated, the blood magic.
Yesterday, I had convinced myself that the attraction sprung from nowhere and was therefore related to the magic. The more I considered it, the more I saw that for what it was—denial.
The first day I’d seen Ambrose, I’d been distracted by his appearance. Of course, the condescending words that had flowed from his mouth had made the attraction easier to ignore. Unfortunately, the more I got to know him due to the forced proximity of our connection, the more I understood where some of those quirks came from.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad.
He was a dedicated son and a loving older brother. He was sharp, his mind a filing cabinet for historical details that he could always access. What I’d thought was an aversion to change was actually fear of repeating his father’s mistakes. He was incapable of holding an opinion when new facts revealed that analternative view might have merit. I was a walking confrontation of the beliefs he held—or at least the ones his father had taught him. No wonder he challenged me at every turn.
I swallowed thickly as I approached the door marked with the same number as the tag on the key.Ambrose might be better thannot bad. He might even be good.
The brass key twisted in the lock under my feeble attempt at steady hands. I had no idea if I was hiding my nerves at all. Probably not. The sound of my heart racing was louder than the squeaks of the steps. Ambrose was kind enough not to comment.
As I twisted the handle, I closed my eyes, still afraid of how confined this space would be. Still worried that all these revelations would make sleeping in the same small room one hundred times harder. The magic might not have been affecting me, but IlikedAmbrose, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information.
This was all only further complicated when I pushed the door open to find a tiny room—and one bed as its centerpiece.
There was little else on which to focus. A washroom to the right, but no desk, dresser, or bureau for clothes. Not that I would have used them, but it would be nice to scan anything else in the room.
Instead, I gaped at the bed. We entered the room, and I glanced back and forth between it and Ambrose. His shoulders were so broad; was there even room for us both to lie next to each other?
His ears pinkened as I silently continued my assessment.
My mind was racing, not at all connected with the words that spewed from my mouth. “I’m not sure we’re both going to fit.”
22
Evelyn
I’m not sure we’re both going to fit?I wanted to smack my forehead like the idiot I was. Ambrose’s mouth stretched to form words, but I could only assume that he, too, was overcome by my stupidity. We needed a safe topic, one to eradicate the fact that we were in this tiny room together for the night. One that could burn away the image my mind conjured of our limbs tangled together in the bed.
A lock of auburn hair fell over his face as he ran his fingers through it again. The ring of gold in his hazel eyes appeared to be thickening—shifting. His eyes held a fire that I hadn’t seen before. Then, his body went rigid as the gold ring contracted.
