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to
her name calling. “Why are you packing then?”
    “Not that it’s any of your business,
but according to my mother’s letter I am to apprentice with King
Maelthorn’s magewoman so that I may take her place.”
    Surprise washed the expression from
his face. The satisfaction she felt at shutting him up was short
lived.
    “Magewoman to King Maelthorn? Are
you deluded? You have to actually have magic to be a magewoman. You
do know that?” He shook his head. “Humans.”
    “You know nothing about me. Don’t
assume otherwise.” Her hands were tingling. She bit back the
remainder of what she wanted to say in an attempt to quell the heat
snarling in her veins and ground out an angry, “Good night,” before
stalking off to her room.
    “Shaldar City will eat you alive,”
he called out.
    She slammed the door.
    Firstlight broke in streaks of pink
and gold. Sleep had only come to Jessalyne for a few hours as
packing had kept her up. She went into the kitchen, eager for a cup
of tea and a bite of breakfast before she packed some foodstuffs
and herbs for travel.
    Her scullery lay in shambles. Crumbs
and crusts of bread mingled with sticky smears of jam dotted the
table. A single half-eaten sweet cake remained as the only proof of
the dozen once piled on an earthenware platter in the
larder.
    She opened the hatch to the cold
box. The milk jug sat empty and most of the smoked fish was gone
too.
    “Dash it!” Jessalyne knew exactly
which ill-mannered elf to blame.
    She stormed toward the second
bedroom and shoved the door wide, ready to blast him for his
ungracious behavior. As soon as the door burst open, she knew she
should have knocked. The dark elf wore only the skin in which he’d
been born.
    Sweet mercy. Her jaw unhinged. His
hind parts were to the door. A line of silver runes like those on
his ears trailed from beneath his long black locks down the length
of his spine, stopping above the cleft of his buttocks. Her fingers
itched to trace the marks marring his perfect flesh. A sigh slipped
from her lips.
    He turned. Her eyes, frozen to the
spot where his backside had been, now saw a great deal more of him
than she had seen of any man. Ever.
    A roguish grin bent the corners of
his mouth and he scratched, unashamed. “Something I can do for
you?”
    Her mouth hung slack, but she
couldn’t close it. Supple curving muscle and the dark, radiant
smoothness of his skin stole the breath from her body. Like the
silver runes tattooed on his skin, his image inked itself into her
mind.
    Her hand flew to her eyes. “Ohmy – I
did not mean – please, my apologies!” She slammed the
door.
    She leaned against the wall and shut
her eyes, but all she saw was skin. She had never seen a naked man
before, elf or otherwise. Were they all so... Was he always that...
Her shame at intruding was compounded by her burning desire to see
him again. Something between panic and need sluiced through her.
She tipped her head back against the wall and sucked air into her
lungs. Laughter echoed through the door.
    Wretched halfling. Blast him! He
wrecked her kitchen, depleted her food supply and now this. Of
course, she was the one who’d burst into the room unannounced. But
she refused to claim fault. He shouldn’t have been naked in her
house. She stomped off to repair her kitchen, muttering under her
breath about the bothersome creature occupying her spare room,
still unable to wash his image from her head.
    * * *
    It pleased him that Jessalyne had
caught him while morning’s rigor still engaged his body. He only
hoped he hadn’t frightened her. He tried again to read her, feeling
with his mind for the wards that held his senses captive. The magic
was weaker than before and he quickly found a way through
it.
    She rushed into his head like new
wine, her quickened breaths, the thrum of blood in her veins, her
pounding heart. He realized with a start there was no fear in her.
She was a mix of curiosity, longing, embarrassment,