* * *
Oh. This was…heaven. Or something very much like it.
Cool silk on my skin, a mattress that was just soft enough. The faint, woodsy scent of…of Adam’s cologne?
Oh, fuck.
My eyes flew open. Sloped ceiling above me, and I was alone in bed. No one beside me. What—oh. The demolition, Adam’s magic an irresistible force of nature, beautiful and terrible—and then my headache creeping up until my thoughts turned to snakes, biting their own tails. He must have helped me with my shoes because I couldn’t remember taking them off.
I sat up, careful not to bump my head where the ceiling arched close to the bed. It was tucked into a niche that was just big enough, shimmering curtains draped around the space, and I might tease him about that later. The prince in his canopy bed.
Even in my head, the thought was doused with affection. That probably told me something.
How long had I slept? I peeked at my watch—it was just past six. Three hours, give or take.
“Adam?”
“Hey.” It was calm and soft, floating up to me from the lower level of the flat. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better.”
“That’s good.” Still in that slow, dreamy tone. I chanced a last look around the heavenly space before I exhaled around a yawn and pushed the curtains out of the way, crawling back into the real world. While I’d slept, the clouds must have fled because sunlight slanted in through the roof windows and brightened the wood floor. I leaned over the railing and found Adam cross-legged in the place where his table usually sat, now moved aside to make room for a large, dark kind of carpet that seemed designed to hold chalk. A massive circle surrounded Adam, the pattern so complex I couldn’t immediately make sense of it.
“Sorry for imposing,” I told him.
He tipped his head back to smile at me, expression serene. He must have been meditating, and when I focused, I could see the swirl of magic around him, bright enough to rival the rays of sun that tangled in his hair. “Not imposing,” he said. “I mean, sure, I had to cancel the three hot dates I’d planned for the afternoon, but I expect you’ll make it up to me.”
Two could play that game.
I let my voice dip low. “And how, exactly, would I do that?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Based on past evidence.”
Heat wiggled in my stomach—Adam on his knees, glancing up at me through his lashes. Adam above me in my bed, his magic brushing over my skin. I inhaled. “Past performance is no guarantee of future results.”
It had been the catchphrase of the professor who’d taught my business elective, a recurring bonus question in exams. Adam chuckled. “Professor Bryar?”
“Yeah.” I walked halfway down the stairs and sat on a step, elbows on my knees. “You went to the Imperial College as well, right? For chemistry?”
“Mhmm.” Adam shifted to stretch his back. With sunlight streaming around him, clad in shorts and a loose T-shirt, he very nearly stole my breath. But I couldn’t afford to think like that. “You studied engineering, correct? I don’t remember seeing you around.”
I’d seen him a few times from afar, but that was it. That evening at the pub was the first time I’d spoken to him since school.
I shrugged. “Well, it’s a lot of students. So, hardly surprising, especially given we didn’t even interact much before.”
“My loss.” Self-deprecation was tucked into the folds of Adam’s smile. “I was pretty busy with my own teenage drama. Don’t think you’d have liked me much back then.”
“Who says I like you now?” I asked, raising my eyebrows as I bit down on a grin.
“You did,” he said, and right, yes, that was a fair point.
“Seems my brain was out to lunch.” I sent him a bright look and got up again, scrubbing a hand through my hair. “Anyway, can I get you anything? Actually, are you allowed to leave that circle?”
“I can, but I shouldn’t. It’s exponential—the longer I stay, the faster I recover.”
“So you’re basically stuck?”
“I’m used to it. Not my first time at this rodeo.” He gestured at a bottle of water and a package of nuts beside him, along with an air mattress and a sleeping bag.