Page 38 of Shadow Weaver
Wait? Was he flirting with me?
He blinked slowly and then lifted his gaze to lock onto mine. “If I were you, I wouldn’t aggravate Fiona.”
“I’m not afraid of her.” Our breath mingled when I spoke. Why was he so close? And why wasn’t I backing away?
He looked down on me pityingly. “Then you’re not as bright as I thought you were.” He breezed past me and through the arch.
I exhaled sharply. Shit, that had been intense. The guy had presence; I’d give him that. I licked my dry lips and composed myself.
Class began in five minutes. No time to loiter now. I took a deep breath and followed him through.
* * *
Two students werelate to class claiming they’d overslept. Another was a no-show, and there was a general air of lethargy to the room. Plenty of yawns and stretching. Either weavers were lazy, or there was some day partying going on no one was admitting to.
I caught Kash’s eye as he stifled a yawn and then winked at me when Fiona had her attention on her notepad.
Wanker.
Wonder what Fiona would do if she saw her lap dog making eyes at me? But what a lap dog. There was no denying he was good-looking with his bronze skin, honey eyes, and all that thick, dark hair that begged to be played with. And the peach lip balm … yeah. He was hot, and he knew it.
He smiled sexily at Fiona when she looked up and then blew her a kiss which had her dimpling.
Everyone was working in pairs, levitating objects and porting them from one point to another. It looked like fun. Me. I had notes to make. A plastic cup floated past my face and then shot up to the ceiling. I glanced up and watched it hovering below the dome.
“Too high!” one of the cadets shouted.
There was laughter as the cup flew below a crack in the plaster. My gaze followed the crack as it ran across the domed ceiling and down toward the wall. Damn, this place was falling apart.
I ducked my head and made notes from the book Joti had brought in about the source of magic and the history of the weaver. It was fascinating stuff, but what I wanted to be doing was learning how to control my power. I finished my notes and raised a hand.
“Yes, Miss Justice?” Madam Latrou asked.
“I’m done with my notes. Can I try connecting with the weave again?”
We’d worked on this in our one-on-one sessions, and I’d been getting closer to control when we’d been forced to stop for the night.
Madam Latrou nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
She walked over to me and held out her hands.
The murmur in the room died down as eyes turned our way.
“Get back to work!” Latrou barked.
I bit back a smile. She was a hard taskmaster, but you had to admire her control. Especially when it came to the weave. Having her go in with me gave me focus.
I slipped my hands into hers and closed my eyes. Her palms were dry and cool against mine.
It was easy to connect to the core of my power now, to the connection and the thread. The darkness surrounded me, and I could feel Madam Latrou’s presence beside me, even though she didn’t speak.
I reached out down the thread, pushing myself along until the weave came into view—magnificent and bright. Power. So much power. A surge of it shot through me as if welcoming me. Calling to me.
Yes, this was the moment I usually lost control. The moment I opened myself up and risked burning not just myself, but others. The allure was an insistent, tugging ache in my soul.
Resist.
I had to resist. I stopped moving toward the weave and allowed it to simply wash over me, pushing back when it got too much.
