Erin wrapped her arms around herself.
“I can fuck whoever I want, Magnus.”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“I got that loud and clear.”
The anger left her mouth half-open with nowhere to go.
“Look,” Erin said, exhaling hard.
“I’m sorry.” She forced herself to face him.
“I’m sorry, okay? I was just startled.”
“What startled you?” His brow lifted, the edge of humour returning.
“The size, the length, the girth?”
Erin groaned in frustration and shoved at his chest.
Magnus chuckled mildly, then bent to pick up the towel she had dropped earlier.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I shouldn’t do things to make you uncomfortable.”
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” Erin said quickly.
“Like I said, just startled.”
“I am quite certain,” he said, looking directly at her, “that your reaction was because you haven’t felt anything like that before.”
Heat shot up her neck.
Erin sucked in a breath.
Then she smiled.
A plastic, glittering little smile.
She stepped closer and placed one hand on his chest.
“Magnus…” she said softly.
His eyes dropped to her hand.
“I am immune to you. I have always been immune to you. I am not Carys. I am not one of the hundreds of women in Blood City begging for a piece of you.”
The words were meant to tease, to push him back into the safe shape she could handle.
His eyes darkened instead.
“What does he possess that I don’t?”
Erin stepped back as if he had slapped her.
She heard what he was truly asking.
He was asking what made Garrick worthy of being chosen when Magnus, her mate, had never even been given a fair chance.
Goddess help her, she did not have an answer that would not make her sound shallow.
She had only meant to tease him.
To keep from drowning in the terrifying awareness that he was no longer easy to dismiss.
She had not meant to strike where he was already scarred.
“Magnus…” Her voice softened, guilt rushing in.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
Erin looked at him warily.
“What?”
“You are quite short.”
Erin blinked.
“Excuse me?”
He looked down at her with shameless satisfaction.
“I can see the middle of your hair.”
Her mouth fell open again.
Was this going to be her constant face in Blood City, mouth open?
“Ohhh, the big guy is smug now, uhn?
I’ll have you know,” she said, lifting one finger in warning, “I am a solid five foot five.
That is a very respectable height.”
“Of course.”
“It is.”
“I never said otherwise.”
“I am perfectly of normal height if you weren’t built like a mountain.”
He chuckled.
Erin tightened her jaw and tried to look annoyed.
It was easier than admitting relief.
Easier than acknowledging how grateful she was that he had stepped away from the wound she had accidentally pressed.
He handed the towel to her.
“So,” she said, “you got your speed too, uhn?”
His body might have been returned to him, but the story behind it still lived behind locked doors.
“Are you ever going to tell me how this happened?” she asked.
“Father said you went on some kind of grief vacation.”
Magnus looked toward the skyline beyond the terrace, the faint glow of the protective sky screen reflecting in his eyes.
“I was with Morvakar.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Erin said.
“He’s my godfather. A sorcerer.”
Erin’s grip tightened slightly around the towel.
Then memory sparked.
“Wait. I think I’ve heard of him.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Was he the one who did some shit and your mother ended up with your father instead of my father?”
“That is… one way to summarise a complicated history.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No.” He gave a short laugh.
“he’s sort of a meddler.”
“My father hates him,” Erin said.
“Could you grab my robe for me?” Erin pointed toward the lawn chair where she had abandoned the robe before entering the pool. Get faster updates on g.com.
“I don’t think so.” He moved toward the chair and picked up the robe and turned back to her.
“I think Uncle Kyllian has the same relationship with Morvakar that he has with my father.”
Erin snorted.
“You mean their love-hate relationship?”
“Yes, that one.” He stepped close enough to offer the robe.
Magnus held the robe straight to her but instead of Erin taking it from him, she turned and started to slide her hands in.
He took the hint.
He simply stood there behind her, holding the robe open.
Then he stepped closer to help the fabric settle over her shoulders.
His fingers brushed her skin.
The faintest contact against the damp curve of her shoulder, the inside of her arm, the delicate place near her wrist where her pulse was.
There was only the heat of his body behind her, the slow glide of his fingers as he adjusted the robe, the restraint in the way he touched her.
His fingers drifted down her arms slowly.
When his fingers reached hers, he simply touched.
A ghost of the mate string shimmered and faded.
“Magnus?” she called.
Her voice sounded wrong.
Soft, vulnerable.
“I can feel it again.”
“Feel what?” he asked, distracted.
He was still lost in her nearness.
In the scent of her skin, the warmth of her pulse.
Then his brain caught up.
“Fuck.” He stepped away so fast the air between them seemed to snap.
“Okay. I think that’s enough for one day.” He adjusted the towel around him as if that could hide anything.
Erin turned to face him.
Magnus had retreated several feet, one hand dragging through his hair.
She might have laughed if her chest was not still humming.
Then, Erin said the worst possible thing.
“Don’t you have anyone lying around waiting for you to use that on them?”
“Yup,” he said.
“I should probably go… get that done.”
Erin’s stomach dropped.
Excellent work.
“See you later.”
“Yeah…” Erin forced the word out.
“See you later.”
He began walking away.
At the doors, he paused without turning.