“Can we fix what’s wrong between us?” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his plaid pants.
I exhale. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“How do I start? Even now I can feel your irritation with me,” Fell says.
“Figure out how to fix that. Earn the right to have a relationship with me again. You did the one thing you promised me you never would, left me alone.”
He closes his eyes and his jaw tightens.
“I was a kid—.”
“Who knew how important that promise was to me? One minute I was sharing all my secrets with you and the next I couldn’t find you. I don’t trust you Fell. I’m not sure how you’re going to regain that, but it’s the first step.”
“I want to start over.” his voice is so low I can barely hear it.
“Do you?”
“Because I feel like you want to step back into our old roles, and that’s not possible.”
“You want to throw away everything we had before? We’ve been friends since the second grade.”
“No, I want you to stop trying to use that fact to guilt me.”
“I’m not.” He growls. “You’re infuriating and stubborn. I could never forget that I hurt you. It’s still the biggest regret of my life.”
He sniffs. “But that doesn’t discount our history. Erasing me from your past isn’t possible. Teen me was an idiot. But that was the only version of me who hurt you. And that pain doesn’t take away all of the good times we had.”
“Stop.”
“Why are you so resistant to this?” Fell asks.
“I’m sick of being hurt by the people who were supposed to love me most. I’m done with this conversation.” I push him aside and run up the stairs ignoring his calls for me to come back. He did me one favor, my arousal is completely shot.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The responsibility placed on my shoulders is immense. I wiggle to find a comfortable spot on the couch. Propped up by cloud-soft pillows, my eyes caress the lines of the books written by a distant relative.
The irony of the throwaway being the savior isn’t lost on me. Keepers are meant to bring prosperity and defend us from the darkness encroaching on our race. We’re a part of life’s checks and balances.
“Find anything useful?” Kirk asks.
My current babysitter of the day is seated across from me on the couch, flipping through the other book I’d brought home. I don’t mind Kirk. The soft-spoken man with the delicious tenor is content to exist without pushing for more. His presence is soothing.
“More informative,” I say.
“Hmmm. The spell I’m looking at is complicated.” I look up and find his dark brows drawn together.
“What does it do?” I ask, genuinely interested. My concern allows him burrow past my defenses.
There’s something special about this man.
“That’s the problem, it doesn’t say. I know it’s an initiation for Fenrir’s children, but what that means exactly is vague,” he says.
I frown.
“Wouldn’t be very secretive if they spelled it out.” He winks.
I snicker. “I suppose that’s true. Makes me wary to use it.”
“Let me see it.” I set my book aside on the side table, and hold out my hand.
He stands and I admire the flex of his muscles under the black henley. The sun streaming through the window makes his mocha skin glow. Kirk has the build of a boxer.
I can’t help but wonder what’s under those layers of clothing. Even the jeans mold to his thick thighs.
A tingle in my belly has me rerouting my thoughts. I take the book and look down.
“Oh.” The rainbow-colored aura enchants me.
“What?” Kirk studies me with a curious stare.
“There’s latent power here.” I run my finger over the glowing greenish-blue triangle in the cover.
“I think those are symbols meant for Fenrir’s blood only. A way for us to determine if it’s a legitimate copy, maybe?”
“Well, that’s smart,” Kirk says.
“I think we’d be safe to do this.”
