I belatedly realized I was fanning my face while staring at him. A sheen of sweat covered my brow. Live a little, indeed. I’d gone completely off the rails.
“Hi,” I said again with a sheepish smile. “Welcome. I’m Jacinta—Jessie, if you like.” Mr. Tom sniffed, and I wasn’t about to stop and question why. I forced my gaze away from Mr. Hot Guy, looking over the others gathered in the room. Fourteen new faces. The guy with pink hair smiled at me, but the rest of them stood or sat with straight faces and patient gazes, living stone. “Thank you for showing up today. Really. You saved the day. We’re going to have to be a lot more careful now that we know people are infiltrating this neck of the woods. If not for you, I would’ve been splattered on the rocks.”
My gaze slid back to those serious, deep brown eyes in that handsome face, letting him know that last thank you was for him in particular. His nod was succinct—just another day saving damsels in distress.
“I’d like to go around and get all your names, if I could,” I said, taking another few steps into the room. “After that we’ll order some pizzas, I’ll give you a little history on my situation here, and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do with all of you. You won’t all fit in Ivy House.”
“At least one of them sure will, though,” Niamh murmured, and my face burned hot. This was not the time to return to blushing.
Or fanning my face.
Or agreeing with Niamh.
It certainly wasn’t the time for all three…13“Okay, well…” Later that night I stood in front of Damarion’s chosen room like a geeky teenager who didn’t know how to flirt.
He and two others, not including Cedric, who was also staying, had been given rooms in Ivy House, Mr. Tom insisting at least that many resident gargoyles were needed to protect me after the attack. Damarion had pushed for more, but I didn’t want to feel like I was walking on eggshells in my own home. Four strangers were bad enough, especially when one seemed to cause hot flashes of the lustful persuasion.
My God, the guy was hot, though. Hot and intense and I couldn’t push away the fact that he’d saved my life and thought nothing of the act. It made him that much more desirable.
I was crushing. Hard. I’d forgotten what it was like. I kinda liked it, though I could do without all the embarrassing remarks from Niamh and the goading remarks from Ivy House. I didn’t need one pimp, thank you very much, let alone several. Good grief.
Damarion waited just inside the door, his gaze rooted to mine, a man of few words.
“Thanks again, for everything,” I said, prone to babbling around him. I wasn’t a master at small talk, and with him, it showed.
“I am glad I came,” he replied.
“Awesome.”
Oh man, had I really just flashed him a thumbs-up?
I tore my hand out of the air. “Anyway, if you need anything, I’m in the master suite at the end of the hall.” I pointed at a wall. “I mean… You know.” I did finger acrobatics, as though he’d find his way through the halls thanks to my pointer finger tracing the invisible path. “So…”
“Thank you,” he said, stepping forward, his direct gaze intimidating, mostly because I was thinking impure thoughts. “This house—your magic—is a legend among our kind. It is a great honor to be summoned here.”
“Oh.” I smiled at him and then tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I can help you. I can feel your magic, pulsing within you. I can help you release it. That is why you summoned me, is it not? You require…release?”
His eyes sparkled devilishly. My chest felt tight, like I wasn’t getting enough air.
“Y-yes.” I cleared my throat, trying to play it cool but so out of practice with all this. I hadn’t expected to be this fervently attracted to someone so quickly, especially someone much younger and way hotter.
“Power trumps beauty,” the walls whispered. But this was not the voice of Ivy House—it was a woman’s voice, the same one I’d heard before accepting the magic—Tamara Ivy, the creator of this place, if I had to guess. “But just like you wouldn’t trust someone who only valued you for your beauty, trust no one who only lusts after your power. Trust no one who doesn’t see you for you. Your life depends on it.”
Fair point, but a depressing sentiment. She wasn’t the happiest of women. Being murdered would certainly do that to a person. I really needed to find out the story behind that so I had a little reference for her words.
“I mean, I need help controlling the magic,” I said. “I can do some things, but I have a lot to learn. I need someone to help teach me.”