Page 24 of Wrongfully Magicked
Taking pity on me, Darby falls into step next to me…or maybe he got the short end of the stick.
After going down another grimy alley, where I don’t look around too closely, I catch him watching me more than our surroundings. My skin tightens under his scrutiny. I shift under the uncomfortable sensation, but I’m unable to shake off the feeling of spiders crawling between my shoulder blades. I finally snap and throw out my arms in a huff. “What?”
Fire surges under my skin at my annoyance, and I nearly sigh in relief at the blessed heat. My powers are returning. While I might only be a level three mage and I don’t use my magic often, being without it would be like losing a piece of my soul.
The return of my flames feels like sinking into a warm hug.
Heat chases away the cold that seeped into my bones, and I can finally take a full breath since waking up. Sure, we’re still on the run and my family is hunting me, but that’s nothing new.
“What did my sister call you?” Amusement tinges his voice, and a lopsided smile curls his lips.
I freeze, almost tripping over my feet, then I studiously look straight ahead and pretend I didn’t hear him.
“Come on.” He bumps his shoulder against mine, or more like his arm bumps into my shoulder, since they are all giants. “If she liked you, she would have given you a moniker. How do you think I got the name Corsair?”
I give him the side-eye, more than a little curious. “I assume because you either pirate treasure, knowledge, or women.” I look him up and down, noticing the fit shape of his lean form, then mutter under my breath, “Most likely all three.”
He blinks for a second, like his brain can’t process the words, then he sputters and chuckles. “It’s because I used to hoard candy, while she would eat it all at once. I would have one a day, and it drove her crazy that I wouldn’t share my treasure with her. As we grew older, she would call me Corsair. When my abilities manifested, it became more apt, as I would, indeed, hoard information.”
A small smile curls his lips, and he glances at me expectantly. My shoulders slump, and I kick at a rock, cursing under my breath when my big toe throbs in protest. The rock spirals off into the distance, smacking hollowly against a trash can with a clank. At the disturbance, a flurry of rats hiss before they scamper off in different directions.
I swallow my panicked shriek, cursing that I don’t have my fire to burn their furry asses. I dart closer to Soren, ready to climb onto his back if any of the vermin decide to rush me in retaliation.
He’s the tallest of them.
If the rats want to take a bite out of me, then they are going to have to work for it.
Soren notices me practically frog-marching behind him, seeking his protection, and his chest puffs up, a delicious rumblegoing through him that has my whole body lighting up with interest.
Unfortunately, the noisedoesdraw attention.
From Porter.
He pauses mid-step as the clatter from the garbage can and the hustle of fleeing rats echo around us, the noise amplified by the stone walls of the alley. When he turns to glare at me over his shoulder, I duck my head, giving him a shrug and a small, super-duper awkward wave. “Oops.”
With a heavy sigh, he continues on his way, but the tension in his shoulders warns me that if I make one more mistake, I will find myself knocked out and tossed over someone’s shoulder.
I follow as meekly as possible.
The last thing I want is to be vulnerable again.
I don’t trust the men to take care of me, not when they are underestimating the danger my family poses. If my cousin makes a play for me, I need to be able to protect the men, and my heat surges through my veins at the thought of the guys being harmed.
As we head farther away from the center of town, the buildings become more run-down, and the people become scarier. Darby and Soren use their big bodies and broad shoulders to block anyone who might look too closely at us. If anyone stares too long, the basilisk hisses, and the nosy neighbors scurry off into the darkness.
It’s a novel experience to have people scamper away in fear, and I sigh when I glance down at my barely five-foot frame.
Yeah, I don’t instill fear in anything, not even mosquitos.
I fuss with the hem of my shirt, glad that my bare legs are swathed in shadows, or it would draw even more unsavory attention. A half naked girl wandering in the borderlands is just asking for trouble. While the loose shirt is long enough to pass for a dress, the lack of pants is unsettling.
One errant breeze will have me flashing the goods at everyone.
Distracted by my attempt to magically make my shirt longer by tugging on it, I accidentally step in something squishy, and I grimace when it smooshes between my toes.
Ew!
I debate burning it off, but then I glance at Porter and mentally sigh, already able to hear his lecture if I did something so stupid as to draw attention to us.
