Page 28 of Strength of Desire

I started walking again. Noah caught up and we walked in silence while I stewed. I was so angry, and still so attracted to him, which wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to like men in the first place, much less this one. It wasn’t fair that he got to be so hot while also being an asshole.

“Where were you coming from?” Noah asked after a minute.

“Hearth Haven. I got my vocator.” I held up my wrist to display it, as if I needed proof.

His eyes narrowed again. “Who did the spell for you?”

“Why does it matter?”

And why did he have to sound so suspicious about everything I said?

“Don’t be a brat, just answer the question.”

A new rush of anger filled me, but saying I wasn’t being a brat would only make me sound more childish.

“Professor Jefferson.” I strove to make my tone as cold and uncaring as his.

Noah grunted.

“Why?” I asked again.

“Forget it.”

I resisted the urge to scream, but it was really, really hard. Having a normal conversation with the man was impossible. I shouldn’t have cared, but for some reason, I very much did.

After another moment of silence, Noah asked, “Did you see Autumn Zhu while you were there, at Hearth?”

“Who?”

“Nevermind.”

It was a weird walk. Noah seemed to want to be in the lead, but I’d be damned if I was going to waddle after him like some kind of duckling. So I kept pace with him, but I still had to look to him for guidance every time we came to a fork in the path.

Noah reached out to hold an overhanging branch out of the way, and I caught sight of his vocator. It was a heavy, solid thing, with two coils of metal, one silvery, one black.

“Does everyone at Vesperwood have one?” I asked, pointing at the device.

He nodded. “The dean wants it that way.”

“Did it…hurt? When they made yours?” I wasn’t sure why I was asking. Maybe I just wanted confirmation I wasn’t a total wimp.

“Life hurts,” he said.

What a cheery turn this conversation had taken.

“Does it get in the way of your knife? The one strapped to your arm?” The bottom end of the knife he kept strapped to that wrist was just barely visible as his jacket cuff fell back.

He shook his head. “I take the vocator off during combat. You should too.”

“Well, yeah.” I’d seen other students doing that since our first class. “But I mean not in combat. In real life.”

“I try not to use my knives much in real life.”

“Then why wear them?”

“I saidtry.” He shrugged. “Besides, old habits die hard.”

An answer equal parts unsettling and arousing. I wanted to ask what old habits, but Noah looked away. His nostrils flared, and his face was set in a hard line, like he couldn’t bear being polite to me much longer.

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