Page 108 of A Dance With Fire
She gritted her teeth together and averted her gaze, not able to answer because… well, because he was right. Shewasafraid of her magic.
Her fingers glided along the edge of the dagger’s blade. It sliced her skin, but she didn’t wince. The pain grounded her.
“What does that have to do with training?” she snapped finally. She had no desire for him to sit there picking at her wounds like a child poking at a dying animal. “Shouldn’t we be fighting?”
Ryker slid one leg down, planting them both against the ground and leaning forward, his forearms resting against his thighs. “I am a healer. That means I can sense wounds. Any wounds. Even the wounds here.” He pressed two fingers to his temple. “Like the body, the mind can be wounded, and sometimes the pain we can’t see is the most harmful. If a Fae is stabbed and loses blood, their powers weaken and they cannot fight.” He pushed himself from the rock and crouched in front of Shula. His fingers pressed to her temples, and she felt the touch down to the fibers of her soul. “This is wounded, and it needs to heal in order for your magic to work.” He pushed away again, putting space between them. “So, I’ll ask again, why are you frightened of your magic?”
Something clogged in her throat. Words she wanted to say, emotions she didn’t let herself feel that blocked her from saying anything at all.
Ryker sighed, clearly impatient.
Shula scowled. “Well, what about your wounds, then?”
The eyebrow above his white eye rose. “What about them?”
“They’re not healed.”
His expression hardened, and she knew she struck a nerve. It wasn’t any of her business, and she had no idea what his situation was that made him wake up screaming a woman’s name in the middle of the night, but she’d be damned if she let him lecture her about the wounds of her mind when he was just as damaged.
When he didn’t reply, Shula leaned back. “Exactly,” she shot.
Ryker growled. “There’s a difference between my wounds and yours, Fire Dancer.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“My woundsfuelmy magic. Your wounds impede yours.”
He was right, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to say the words she kept tightly locked up. She couldn’t give up that part of herself when he’d given her nothing but disdain.
So she pressed her lips together and glared.
A growl rumbled in his chest. “Talk,” he ordered.
“No.”
His lips pursed. “Do you need Fae wine to confess your secrets?”
Her face heated as she recalled that moment, how the coarse beard along his cheeks felt like thorns between her palms. The heaviness of the emotions clogging her throat, the looseness of her tongue, and the words that slipped out of her mouth.
“Fuck off, Ryker.” She pushed to her feet, pointing the dagger accusingly in his direction. “While you sit there preaching at me about my life, take a good long look atyourself.”
He straightened, something dark wafted over him. Something that could have been considered evil but wasn’t. No, Shula had seen her fair share of evil. But therewassomething dangerous, a threat.
“At myself,” he echoed, his voice nearly a purr.
“Yes, yourself.” Her rage rose. “You preach at me every time you open that fucking mouth of yours. You aren’t perfect, either. You like pointing fingers, to claim that I’mwoundedin the head, but what about you?”
“What about me?”
Even him repeating everything she said irritated her. “You can’t go a fucking minute without insulting me. You know what I think? I think you’re projecting your own failures and insecurities onto me. You look at me and you see whatever failures live in that fucked up mind of yours, andthat’sthe only reason you hate me.”
He moved before she could even blink. He was a blur as he charged towards her, and she didn’t have time to react. He was there, his hand closing around her throat, putting enough pressure to make her gasp but not enough to hurt. His body pressed against hers, and everything about this seemed like somethingmorethan what it probably was.
It felt sensual, and the heat that bounced back and forth between them was just enough to make Shula rub her thighs together. The danger of the situation melded into pleasure that shivered down her spine.
Ryker’s nostrils flared as he scented her arousal, and humiliation swept over her. Just because he had that effect on her didn’t mean she liked him or that she wanted to feel it.
They stayed like that, their breaths mingling, chests pressing in a heady rise and fall, hearts beating fast as if they meant to jump straight from their chests and mesh together into one single entity.
