Page 20 of Bewitched By the Djinn
“Can you feel what I’m feeling?”
He bites his lip. “Maybe a little.”
“A little?A little?”My voice squeaks. “What does that mean, exactly?”
He winces. “I noticed it last night but wasn’t certain. I was overwhelmed. I thought I could block it, so it would be a nonissue.”
So the connection isn’t only physical. It runs deeper than that. “Were you going to say something or were you just gonna pretend not to notice that you can feel everything I am feeling?”
His eyes dart to the side. “I was planning on telling you.”
I point at him. “Liar.” I don’t need to be a truthsayer to figure that one out.
His cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. But it’s not like it matters. You don’t hide what you are thinking.”
“Who cares if I’m honest? I don’t like you knowing how I feel. It’s invasive.” What if he can tell how attractive I find him? I want the floor to swallow me whole. “How do I stop it?”
“You can block it with your mind, by forming your mental shields.”
“Mental shields? How does that work?”
He frowns. “You protect your thoughts and emotions from intrusion with an imagined object. It’s all in your head.”
“Great. How do I do that?”
“I can show you.” He sits back on the couch, the blankets covering him from the waist down.
I have to force my gaze to stay on his face.
He gestures for me to sit beside him. “I can help you through the connection itself. If you are amenable? It will be better if we are touching. Stronger.”
“How does that work? I thought you didn’t have access to your magic.”
“This does not require channeling magic. It’s simply connecting to something that exists between us. The bond itself has the energy we can tap into.”
Hmmm. This is a bad idea.
But leaving an emotional channel wide open between us is worse. Maybe I should make him put some clothes on, but I’m not sure I want to wait.
I walk further into the room and lower myself onto the couch beside him, my hands clenched in my lap.
Bennet sets his hand on his knee, palm up.
I stare at it like it’s going to sprout fangs and bite me.
“Would you like me to take your hand instead?” he asks.
“No.”
I appreciate that he’s letting me set the pace, butwhat the fuckdoesn’t even begin to describe it.
“This is all just very weird,” I mutter.
“Yes.”
“I guess for you too.”
Considering he’s in a whole other dimension surrounded by strangers who haven’t exactly been rolling out the red carpet, it’s probably been worse for him.
