“You are never foolish,” he replied fervently.
She grimaced. “I tend to be absentminded, I know. I don’t need to learn self-defense, just enough so I’m not a danger to myself.”
“I’d be delighted.” If he’d been standing, he would’ve swept her a bow. Teaching Stella bladework would give him all sorts of opportunities to charm her, to work his way inside her emotional guards—and perhaps the physical ones, too. Besides, she did need to learn self-defense. He’d hesitated to nag her about it, but this request gave him the opening he needed.
“And that was enough to set Rhyian off?” she asked.
“Well, and I foolishly mentioned that she and I discussed how the shapeshifters have been more animal lately—not you—and Rhy leapt to unsavory conclusions, which only proved my point. In the meanwhile, I took some hits.”
“Hmm.” The noncommittal sound seemed unjustly accusing.
“I gave as good as I got,” he said, hearing the defensiveness in his own voice. “I just can’t shapeshift all healed up again like he can. If he were a mossback like me, he’d be in worse shape than I am.”
“Don’t call yourself that. You know I don’t like that word. Not being a shapeshifter doesn’t make you lesser.” She’d reached the bite at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, having to bend over him to see it, her face close enough that her breath wafted warm over his chilled skin, those night-blooming flowers filling his head with thoughts he shouldn’t have. If he put his arms around her, she’d fall against him, her slender curves nestling against him. His cock twitched painfully at the image, and he moved his hands well away from her, lest they get notions of their own.
“How about Astar turning into a dragon, huh?” he said, going for a different topic of conversation. Though Astar had several forms, he’d never taken dragon form before. The shapeshifting Tala tended to be closed-mouthed about their arcane mysteries, but so far as Jak understood, only one person in living memory had attained dragon form. Until Astar spontaneously became one to catch Zeph and Lena before they smashed into the lake. “That was a surprise.”
“Not to me,” Stella said, so matter-of-factly that he realized she must have seen that future for her twin brother. A few times, he’d nearly asked her what she saw in his—until he regained his better sense and kept his big mouth shut. “You’re lucky Rhy didn’t snap your collarbone,” she observed in an absent tone, absorbed in what she sensed. An intense burst of magic surged through that area, relieving a nagging ache he hadn’t been totally aware of until it was gone. “As it is, he barely missed nicking a major artery. You could’ve bled to death, Jak.”
“I would’ve called for your help if that had been the case.”
She lifted her head, staring intently into his eyes. “Would you?”
“You know me.” He tried for a cocky grin, but something about her somber gaze checked him.
“Yes, I do know you. Just like I know you didn’t ask me to help you yesterday. You had to realize you were injured by last night. Or you could’ve asked me this morning, after everyone else was handled. Why, Jak? I had to force myself on you.”
I only wish you’d force yourself on me, an irreverent voice piped up, but he managed to keep the words from reaching his lips. Unfortunately, that meant he also failed to give her a reply.
“I wish you would talk to me,” she said in the face of his silence, a hint of pain in her voice. “Don’t you trust me at all? I know that things have been… awkward between us, but—”
“No,” he burst out. “They’re not—”
“But I thought that,” she forged on, talking over him, “if nothing else, we are friends. Closer than that, even. You’re like a brother to me and—”
He clapped his hands to his head, yanking on his hair, unable to bear it. Speaking of being out of his head. Between the sexual side effects of the healing and her proximity, he couldn’t pretend to his usual insouciance. “I don’t want to be like a brother to you!” he nearly shouted, startling her enough that she reared back, her face blank, eyes wide and dark gray with shock.
“Jak,” she whispered, actually scooting away from him. “What are you—”
“Look at me, Stella.” He pushed up to a sitting position. His body responded with elastic vigor, full of the renewed vitality she’d given him, so he jumped to his feet, appreciating the ease with which his body responded, and swept a hand at himself. The turgid erection throbbed against his trousers, a blessed relief as it finally extended from its cramped position.
Stella blushed, averting her gaze. “That is a natural side effect of the healing,” she said, almost primly. “It happens to everyone, so you don’t need to—”
“Put on your gloves,” he told her, nearly snarling the command, and her eyes flew to his face like startled birds. He bent and picked up her discarded gloves. “Put them on.”
Watching him warily, she drew the pretty leather over her slender hands. “Jak, I don’t know what—”
As soon as she had the second glove safely covered her skin, he seized her hands and drew her to her feet, holding her as close as he dared. This was his chance. With Astar and Zeph finally consummating their long chase, this could finally be his opportunity with Stella.
If he didn’t fuck it up like he had so long ago, too much the impetuous boy. Danu, let this be the right time.
“It’s not just the healing,” he told her, tightening his grip when she made to pull away. “It’s you. I’m like this whenever I’m around you. Sometimes even when you’re nowhere near.” He choked out a laugh, searching her face for any glimmer of shared feeling, seeing only embarrassed shock. “If I even think about you. Which is Danu-cursed inconvenient, since all I ever do is think about you. Stella, my star, I—”
“Jak, let me go,” she said firmly, her expression cool and remote.
Not the right time, clearly. Thanks for nothing, Danu. Never ask the goddess of the bright sword and swift justice to help with matters of the heart. With chagrin, annoyed at himself for the grievous misstep, he released his hold on her, raking his hands through his hair instead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, said anything. Let’s forget this.”
“No, we should talk about it.” She looked troubled, drawing the cloak around herself. “I’ve never wanted to lead you on. I know the others make their jokes about us being a couple—and you know I don’t understand humor very well, so I let them slide rather than saying anything—but I think maybe I’ve been careless in letting you flirt with me. In not putting a stop to it.”
Well, that burned. “I know I’m not good enough for you.”
“It’s not that,” she replied firmly, the words even more crushing because that meant she had another reason to refuse him.
“Then what is it?” The question had been a firm demand in his head, not the puppyish plea that came out.
“Jak…” She sounded so sad, turning away to look out over the glassy lake. “You’re such a good person. A fearless fighter. A loyal friend, handsome, fun. You make everyone laugh.”