Read Online Reluctant Adept: Book Three of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life by Katherine Bayless - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katherine Bayless
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troubling me like a pebble under my heel that grew more noticeable the longer I walked on it.
Tíereachán must have sensed my growing disquiet because he pressed the whole of his hand against my back and, in an affected, haughty tone, said, "When you speak to my cousin, be sure to tell him of my virtuous behavior despite your delightful proximity. When you finally acknowledge me as the better sidhe, I want no thought spared to underhanded influence," he tsked. "And you simply must stop pawing at me, woman. It's embarrassing."
As he no doubt intended, I uttered an indignant growl and pushed at his chest, levering myself away from him to sit upright. I raised my arm to deliver a backhanded smack, but his hiss and pained expression halted me, my snarky retort frozen on my tongue.
I eyed him critically. "You're hurt."
He straightened in the seat and crossed his arms, but the grimace that had replaced his cocky smile told me the move wasn't an easy one. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Good. Then you won't mind proving it." I scooted closer while I tried to recall where I'd placed my hands when I'd shoved myself away from him. "What happened? Show me."
"Mate, sit down. I don't need your fussing."
I ignored the irritating endearment, which he'd used because he knew it got on my nerves and no doubt hoped it would distract me.
"You're gonna get more than fussing," I said, passing my phone to Red who'd retaken his perch on the back of the front passenger seat. "You'll get a knuckle sandwich."
I ran my fingers over his arms, checking the fabric of his black button-down shirt for tears or the wet, sticky signs of blood. Not finding anything, I attempted to pry his unyielding arms loose for access to the parts of his torso he'd deliberately hidden.
Stymied, the truth dawned on me. I froze and stared at him, horrified. "It was my fire. You're burned. I hurt you."
"You didn't hurt me."
There was no hesitation in his reply, but I didn't buy it. When his dark appendage wrapped around me, I'd been going up like a dead pine in a forest fire. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner?
When I continued to stare at him, distress knitting my brows, Tíereachán tilted his head and peered at me. "After all this, you will not take my word?"
We'd been through a lot together, true. I'd rescued him from Azazel's clutches. And, even when he'd been under the archdemon's thumb, forced into the guise of a demon by a blood pact and unaware of his true sidhe identity, he'd never lied to me.
But I also knew it was possible to skirt the truth without lying. And there's no way he'd missed coming into contact with my fire, not when his magic had wrapped around me so securely.
Given sidhe touchiness when it came to their honor, there was no tactful way to answer his question, so I didn't even try. "I'm not stupid. You guys parse the truth like nobody's business. Technically I didn't hurt you, but my fire did, right?"
One look at his narrowed eyes and inflexible jaw told me I was most definitely not right .
Where was an open well when I needed one?
"Unlike Kieran, I have never sought to deceive you, Lire . You do all other sidhe a disservice when you cast us in his mold."
For once, he'd used my actual name in lieu of a cocky endearment, but instead of pleasing me, it stung as if I'd been slapped.
Chastened and heart-heavy, I retreated to my side of the car. I glanced up in time to catch Fisk's disapproving eyes in the rear view mirror, but when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm. "He took a blade tip to his side when he yanked you out of the shop. It's a minor injury that I've tended to, so stop worrying."
I felt the weight of Tíereachán's scrutiny, a near palpable pressure along my left side. At that moment, with shame and anger burning in my chest and heating my cheeks, nothing shy of physical force would have prompted me to meet his gaze. Hugging myself, I huddled at the window, wishing I was anywhere but inside the car with these two imposing
Tíereachán must have sensed my growing disquiet because he pressed the whole of his hand against my back and, in an affected, haughty tone, said, "When you speak to my cousin, be sure to tell him of my virtuous behavior despite your delightful proximity. When you finally acknowledge me as the better sidhe, I want no thought spared to underhanded influence," he tsked. "And you simply must stop pawing at me, woman. It's embarrassing."
As he no doubt intended, I uttered an indignant growl and pushed at his chest, levering myself away from him to sit upright. I raised my arm to deliver a backhanded smack, but his hiss and pained expression halted me, my snarky retort frozen on my tongue.
I eyed him critically. "You're hurt."
He straightened in the seat and crossed his arms, but the grimace that had replaced his cocky smile told me the move wasn't an easy one. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Good. Then you won't mind proving it." I scooted closer while I tried to recall where I'd placed my hands when I'd shoved myself away from him. "What happened? Show me."
"Mate, sit down. I don't need your fussing."
I ignored the irritating endearment, which he'd used because he knew it got on my nerves and no doubt hoped it would distract me.
"You're gonna get more than fussing," I said, passing my phone to Red who'd retaken his perch on the back of the front passenger seat. "You'll get a knuckle sandwich."
I ran my fingers over his arms, checking the fabric of his black button-down shirt for tears or the wet, sticky signs of blood. Not finding anything, I attempted to pry his unyielding arms loose for access to the parts of his torso he'd deliberately hidden.
Stymied, the truth dawned on me. I froze and stared at him, horrified. "It was my fire. You're burned. I hurt you."
"You didn't hurt me."
There was no hesitation in his reply, but I didn't buy it. When his dark appendage wrapped around me, I'd been going up like a dead pine in a forest fire. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner?
When I continued to stare at him, distress knitting my brows, Tíereachán tilted his head and peered at me. "After all this, you will not take my word?"
We'd been through a lot together, true. I'd rescued him from Azazel's clutches. And, even when he'd been under the archdemon's thumb, forced into the guise of a demon by a blood pact and unaware of his true sidhe identity, he'd never lied to me.
But I also knew it was possible to skirt the truth without lying. And there's no way he'd missed coming into contact with my fire, not when his magic had wrapped around me so securely.
Given sidhe touchiness when it came to their honor, there was no tactful way to answer his question, so I didn't even try. "I'm not stupid. You guys parse the truth like nobody's business. Technically I didn't hurt you, but my fire did, right?"
One look at his narrowed eyes and inflexible jaw told me I was most definitely not right .
Where was an open well when I needed one?
"Unlike Kieran, I have never sought to deceive you, Lire . You do all other sidhe a disservice when you cast us in his mold."
For once, he'd used my actual name in lieu of a cocky endearment, but instead of pleasing me, it stung as if I'd been slapped.
Chastened and heart-heavy, I retreated to my side of the car. I glanced up in time to catch Fisk's disapproving eyes in the rear view mirror, but when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm. "He took a blade tip to his side when he yanked you out of the shop. It's a minor injury that I've tended to, so stop worrying."
I felt the weight of Tíereachán's scrutiny, a near palpable pressure along my left side. At that moment, with shame and anger burning in my chest and heating my cheeks, nothing shy of physical force would have prompted me to meet his gaze. Hugging myself, I huddled at the window, wishing I was anywhere but inside the car with these two imposing
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