Page 182 of Gates of Tartarus

I scramble to my feet – “Think of science!” – and try to pry his fingers open. It’s like trying to open a clam shell, so I settle for squeezing his arms and shoulders admiringly.

“You’re so tight!” I breathe. “Just feel you! Talk about rock… mmm… hard!” I give another little squidge, and he bats my hand away. “Behave!” Kavi chides, looking sternly at me. He makes as if to get up, and I launch myself onto his back, clinging like a limpet.

“Gah! Get off me, you mad woman!”

I’m laughing now, hair coming loose from my braid. “Giddy-up!” I crow and bang my heel lightly against his side. “Yup, definitely taut.”

“Stop! Maela! I’ll roll over on you!”

“Pffft!” And then I’m shrieking as he makes good on his threat. “Oof – you’re squashing me. Can’t… breathe,” I gasp melodramatically. “Oh, hello.” Jorge is upside down behind me, leaning against the door and looking darkly amused.

“Qué pasa?”

I giggle, and an answering smile lights his eyes. “Kavi’s giving me a yoga lesson.”

“And what position is this?”

“Roadkill,” Kavi answers, splaying his arms and settling himself more firmly. I huff. “Budge! You’re too heavy… Jorge!” I appeal, when the torso pinning me down doesn’t shift, head a solid weight against my chest.

He strolls into the room, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Roadkill? Hmm. I do not think I know thisasana.”

“It’s very good for calming the passions… ow!” I’ve got hold of Kavi’s hair and given a sharp tug, and he rolls off, looking affronted. “Bloody hell, woman! That hurt!”

I pout: “Well, Ididsay…” Then I bite my lip. After my brief outburst of jollity, I’m feeling drained again. Jorge, sensing my change in mood, comes to sit down cross-legged beside me, drawing my head into his lap; and I sigh.

“I don’t want to go to Gaia.”

Kavi’s gaze is eagle-fierce, pupils glittering black in the jade. “You’re not going to have to. We’ll figure something out. You or Kailani will see something, or sense something, maybe even at the benefit.”

“I don’t even want to go to the benefit,” I admit softly.

Jorge strokes my hair tenderly. “We’ll be with you, Maela. You don’t have to worry.”

I look up at him, at the thick, dark brows, the long, straight nose with slightly rounded tip, the sensitive mouth and smile faintly. “Thanks. Sorry.”

He frowns down at me. “Why?”

“For being so pathetic.” I shrug helplessly, and he scowls.

“You arenotpathetic, Ma-ay-la! Do not say such things. I think you are strong, brave, and perfectly capable.”

“Me?” I scoff. “I faint at the first sign of trouble and couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag.”

He looks a little nonplussed for a moment, then holds a finger to my lips. “It takes courage to see your visions,querida, and you never complain.”

“Well,” Kavi interjects, “not much.” But he’s smiling, and he reaches out to take my hand and bring it to his lips. “Jorge’s right. What you do takes a lot of heart.”

“You are kind and funny–”

“Thoughtful, sweet–”

I’m turning quite pink. “Oh, well, uh. Gee.” Then I flutter my eyelashes expectantly. I’m going to make the most of this opportunity for compliments and am trying for “coy and a little come-hither”, lips parted in what I hope is artless invitation.

“Something in your eye,ladki? Do you want me to have a look?” Kavi’s bending over, looking concerned.

I don’t know whether to be irked or upset and settle for a slightly disgruntled “No, ‘m fine,” pressing my lips together.

A small smile’s playing about the corners of Jorge’s wide, sensual mouth, and his hazel eyes are bright, gold flecks sparkling. “And very beautiful, of course.”

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