Wolf-Eye
Three hours of silence is my limit. I fiddle with the volu dial just to give my hands sothing to do. Sothing like not sliding through the ssy Pip Echo's created out of her rainbow-colored hair.
"So... sleep. That's still a thing, right?"
She doesn't look at . "I'm fine."
Okay.
The temperature in the car drops ten degrees with those two words. Not literally—though with Echo, you never know. I clear my throat and lean back in my seat.
She's been like this ever since Violet called. That girl has a talent for finding trouble, and it rivals Asher's talent for making enemies. The fact they're bound together is cosmic irony.
She seems sweet, though. Sweet enough to keep a feral witch like Echo loyal to the girl.
Am I jealous? Maybe a little.
"Where are we headed, anyway?" I keep my voice casual, fishing for any reaction beyond her stone-faced focus on the road.
But it's not Echo who answers, damn it.
"We're circling back toward where we started, actually." Jasper's voice pipes up from the back seat, so eager it makes my molars ache. "The ley lines around the Fiddleback territory are fascinating—they twist in ways I've never seen before. The mana flow creates these... these beautiful rivers of light that intersect and diverge. I can actually see them now, which explains how my tracking works. It's like the signature leaves ripples in the—"
I grit my teeth so hard I'm surprised they don't crack. I don't need a lecture from the wizard-who-couldn't. Especially not when he's answering for her like they're so kind of team now.
The way he looks at her—like she hung the fucking moon and stars—makes my skin crawl. Like she's his personal goddess because she did so magical party trick with her lips.
He goes on for a couple more minutes, nerding out to this bizarre magic science I don't understand, before finally ending with, "Anyway... who are we tracking, exactly?"
Echo answers without emotion. "Soone's hair was on the body. We're tracking them."
"There wasn't enough energy in the strand for to track, though." He sounds like a confused fucking puppy. Not a brain cell in his nerdy little head.
Her eyes flick up to the mirror, then back to the road. "That's why I gave you a boost."
The wizard makes a soft "ahh" sound, disappointnt dripping from that single syllable, and sothing in snaps.
"What, think she kissed you because you're special?" I ask, sarcasm coating every syllable, with an undertone of bitter jealousy.
Jasper clears his throat and leans back in his seat.
I don't even fully understand what she did—so weird magical energy transfer that required mouth-to-mouth contact, I guess—but the thought of the sniveling little wizard believing she wanted him makes my blood simr.
Echo glances in the rearview again, catching Jasper's slumped posture. Under her breath, just barely loud enough for to catch: "Humans are so fragile."
A tiny flare of triumph blooms in my chest. No interest, then. No threat.
"I could help you with that block, if you want." She says it casually, once again focused on the road.
My heart trips.
"What magical block?" Jasper perks up imdiately, a wilted plant of a man getting a taste of divine, rainbow-colored water.
She shrugs one shoulder. "It's hard to explain. You'll get it once you start feeling arcana properly."
And just like that, my fleeting victory crumbles. I turn toward the window, watching the blur of dark trees.
Of course wizard-boy gets special lessons. Of course they can talk about magic and energy and ley lines like it's pillow talk. anwhile, I'm sitting here imagining what it'd feel like if she slipped her hand over and—
Fuck. This isn't . I don't get jealous. I don't get possessive. I'm the guy who knows how to separate business and pleasure. The guy who's had more won than most n et in a lifeti.
But all I can think about is how warm Echo's skin was the last ti she grabbed my wrist and how good she slls. She slls like chamomile and sothing faintly citrusy—orange blossoms, maybe. Soft. Not perfuy.
The kind of scent you don't notice right away, but once it's in your lungs, it stays there. Warm. Familiar. Like the start of a mory.
Makes hard as soon as her scent hints, which ans I've been battling it off and on for hours.
Get your shit together, man. Not the ti to want a hand job. You've handled greater temptations than this.
My wolf whimpers in my head. He's still terrified of her. It should turn off, but there's nothing like lusting after a woman strong enough to intimidate my wolf.
Most of us don't have the sa kind of relationship with our wolves as Asher does. So are more chatty than others, and usually the stronger the wolf, the more they talk.
Mine doesn't talk much. Usually prefers to stick with growls, howls, and the occasional chuff. He can speak as often as he wants… the key being, if he wants.
He's made it clear he doesn't want to talk to —and he won't waste the energy unless it's absolutely necessary.
We get along fine, though.
Do we? he asks sourly. If I have to endure one more image of your dick, I might bite it off myself during the next full moon.
My knees snap together in an automatic reaction, and Echo glances over with a brow raised.
I pretend like I just needed to shift position, which sucks because I was finally comfortable.
Shut up, I snarl at my wolf, who's usually impeccable at keeping quiet. Guess he's tired of my horny imagination. Can't bla him; it's a little frustrating, even for .
Every ti we pass a restaurant? Thinking about throwing her down on a table. Rest stops? Taking her in a stall. Woods? Fucking her against a tree. When there's nothing particular to imagine, I think about her sliding her hand over and pumping until I spray all over her dash. How cute it would be when she scolds for making a ss. How she might lick her fingers clean—
I'm biting it off, my wolf warns.
Damn it.
I watch Echo's face. She's frowning at the road like it insulted her.
If she crashes us all into a tree, at least I'll die looking at her.
Reviews
All reviews (0)