A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

Disgust pulled on Alis’ lips.

I knew that my persuasion wouldn’t last on Alis, if it hadn’t even worked well on Archer. And I knew I couldn’t get in with compulsion—it took a long time to master that, and I’d only started months ago. But I knew who could do it. And with a glance at him, he didn’t look so happy about what I wanted.

However, with some aversion, Weston compel—no, he hit Alis, right over my head. I heard the crunch of bone, nose, jaw, I wasn’t sure which. Alis reared back, holding his face, blood dripping steadily to the ground.

I wanted to feel displeasure about it all, but the bastard deserved it. He dropped to his knees, moaning something unintelligible. He would have to see a healer about all that.

Weston compelled Alis, distaste lacing every word, his expression telling me he’d rather kill him. Mine said, ‘Too bad. We don’t all get what we want.’

If Alis didn’t have a strong enough mind to handle the long-term compulsion, then that was his problem. At least I tried. While Weston finished up compelling him, I turned around, stepped over lifeless limbs like puddles, and walked down the alley toward my mother’s house.

“Always saving you, aren’t I?”

I frowned but kept walking from him. It was fruitless, because, in less than a second, he spun me around, backed me up slowly until my back hit the wall, and then ran his thumb down my cheek. My skin burned at the contact, my legs tingling where they touched his.

“Look. At. That.” He whistled at the smooth skin

of my cheek where minutes ago there’d been a cut. He braced his hands on the wall on either side of me.

A sudden shyness ran through me, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t know where we stood and what he would do next. “Are you . . . sane?” I asked hesitantly.

A smile pulled at his lips as he glanced down the alleyway before a small laugh escaped him. He shook his head, drawing his gaze back to me. “Do I look sane?”

My eyes narrowed. “No. You’ve always been mad.”

“If I had finally lost it, you would know,” he told me, his gaze darkening. “I wouldn’t be standing here alone with you, chatting.”

“And what would you be doing?”

He leaned in so close, his lips brushed my neck. “Why do you ask questions you already know the answers to?”

His low, rough voice sent goose bumps down my arms, my breath catching. How does he do this to me? I pushed the breathless feeling away as best as I could.

“Well, that’s a pipe dream, really,” I told him as he pulled back to look at me. “Because you could never catch me.”

He licked his lips, dark amusement pulling at the corners. “Oh, I’d catch you, Princess. If you even ran.”

My stomach fluttered, warmth pooling between my legs, but I couldn’t stop being annoyed at his insinuation—regardless if it were true. And it wasn’t.

“Weston,” I looked meaningfully at his hands braced on either side of me, “we’re coexisting a little too closely, don’t you think?”

His eyes narrowed.

“I want to share Symbia with you as much as you do me, but if you keep stopping me on the streets, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m pretty sure—correct me if I’m mistaken—that I just saved your sorry life.”

I scoffed. “Alis wouldn’t have killed me. He wanted to marry me, that’s all. You know, the way I’m sure you’ll have to do it to get any woman to marry you.”

“Why didn’t you fast-travel?”

I blinked at his sudden change of topic, but then only lifted a shoulder. I wasn’t going to tell him that part of my magic was faulty and that everyone knew it.

His voice hardened. “Why would you allow four men to corner you like that? Do you have any sense?”

Some irritation ran through me. “You’re cornering me right now while telling me not to let it happen. Back. Up.”

His gaze flickered with heat, but he took a step back allowing me out. I continued the walk to my mother’s without a look in his direction.