Page 100 of First Ritual
“Because I call myself Tempest.” The words popped out. Unease stirred my chest. “I—don’t worry. It’s just my thing for me.”
He watched me. “That’s all?”
Laughter spilled from my lips. “What do you mean that’s all? It’s part of my crisis.”
“Right. Sounds like a pity party. I’m still calling you Tempest.”
“That’s… outrageous,” I informed him when I’d managed to close my mouth.
“You love anything outrageous,” he informed me.
Unfortunately true. But I didn’t like that he’d been paying attention so closely. “Why shouldn’t I call you Astar? What makes your pity party different from mine?”
“Astar doesn’t suit me. Wild does.”
I scowled as he grinned. Wild did suit him. And Tempest suited me. Which was exactly why I got people to call me Bronte. Kept a nice distance there.
“If you have a problem with me calling you Tempest because that’s just for you, then why don’t you call yourself something else so I can have Tempest?” he asked me next.
“No,” I said, walking away from him. “No. You didn’t just say that.” I spun back. “I can’t believe you just said that! How arrogant can a person be?”
He snorted, then laughed a deep and rich sound that drew me to his side like a damn magnet. Shit, that was new. I slipped my hands into his to cover the moment.
Wild searched my face, and I rolled my eyes. “Just do it. Stop speaking and do it already.”
“Your wish is my command, my queen.”
My gaze flew to his, and I groaned when I saw the amusement in his eyes. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Yes. I have.” The humor died from his face again. “I’ll need to assess each affinity in turn. I’ll begin with apothecary. Then battle. I believe it’s best to leave divination for last.”
I nodded and took a breath.
“I don’t know how my magic will respond when you open,” he said tersely. “I… could you stay as calm and still as possible? The more you resist, the more I want to chase and, uh, convince you I’m stronger.”
Mother be. “I’ll try.”
“If I hurt you, I’ll fix you.”
I closed my eyes. “That’s pretty messed up, Wild, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“You’re welcome.”
My lips curved, and I realized that I’d already matched my breathing to his.
“That’s the way. Stay with me. Breathe with me.”
I’d always thought his voice cold, but there was a definite warmth to it that I’d missed to this point. Something about Wild reassured me. He had a natural ability to foster magic in others. He never joked around or was a rude prick when I had a genuine question about my power. He was a natural teacher. At the root of every natural teacher was the quality of wanting to help others because it brought them joy.
I smiled and drew back the barriers on my magic. Open.
Again.
For better or worse.
Most likely the latter.
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