Page 60 of Bones

“No.” My focus flickered between her different colored irises. Each one had hints of different hues, and I wanted to spend hours finding them all, but right then wasn’t the time. I chose my words carefully so I didn’t scare her. “Your eyes are?—”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, my freakazoid eyes are weird and hideous. Thanks. Can we get back to you moving away?”

“First, no. Second, your eyes are incredible. And third, you know they changed?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth for a second. “I, uh, saw. In the truck mirror.”

Lie.

“You know because they didn’t change. You were wearing contacts, weren’t you?” I rocked back at that revelation. At myrelief. “The barrier I felt.”

Her face screwed up in horror. “Felt? Youtouchedmy eyeball?”

“What? No.”

“Then what’re you talking about?” Her wide, panicked eyes showed more of the bloodshot lines that dominated the whites. I’d assumed it was caused by her eyes changing, but since they hadn’t changed, it was a non-magicks injury.

“They’re pretty damn red, baby. Do they hurt?” I didn’t give her the chance to answer. “We need to get you to an eye doctor. Urgent care? Maybe the hospital? You could lose your vision.”

She muttered something that I didn’t catch as I tried to pull her from the door toward the porch. She dug her heels in. “I’m fine. It’s just from wearing the single use lenses all week. They already feel better.”

My voice came out a harsh shout. “You wore single—” I inhaled through my nose sharply, struggling to get my temper under control. “For the love of angels, don’t do something so dangerous again. If you need a refill or glasses, we’ll go get them now.”

“They’re not prescription,” she admitted before pressing her lips together like she regretted saying anything.

“Then why were you risking your health to wear them all week?”

She pointed a finger at her eyes and wagged it back and forth, nonverbally conveying aduhthat I didn’t understand.

“And?”

“We went through this. They’re weird and hideous and?—”

“Beautiful,” I cut in.

She gave a joyless laugh and rolled those gorgeous eyes again. “No.”

“Are you always so argumentative?”

Her brows lowered, and she hesitantly shook her head. “No, actually.”

It says something that I get off on the fact that attitude is reserved for me.

A thought for later.

Preferably when my mouth is on her.

Once I convince her that I’m worthy to touch her, not a dickhead, and also her fated mate.

Or I could just beg.

Offer up a long lifetime of wealth, restaurants, a demanding dog, and a cabin.

Bargain my half a soul that’s already hers.

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