Page 47 of Alchemy of Souls

Her comment startles me.

“What?” she says, probably wondering why I look spooked.

“No, nothing. It’s just—” I laugh at myself. “God, I feel like an idiot… but no one has ever accused me of being nice before.”

She laughs, too, and the sound does something to me. It’s light and airy and perfectly matches her hair.

“I absolutely believe that being called nice is a new experience for you,” she says, but there’s no bite to it.

Eloise finishes wrapping her bandage and slides off the bed to test it out. “Much better.” Which is also when she looks at my hands. “Seriously, though, if you don’t put that salve on your hands, I really will punch you.”

“You would hit the wounded?” I ask.

“Without flinching,” she says, hopping back on the bed, and it occurs to me that, for once, we’re not arguing.

“It’s fine,” I tell her, because it is.

“It’s not fine. Now sit down,” she says, gesturing to the spot next to her. And for unknown reasons I let this petite girl tell me what to do. In fact, I kinda like it.

“Where’s that salve?” she asks, but I’m already handing it to her.

She pops off the lid. I turn one of my palms face up and she holds it gently. Her slender fingers are soft and just a tad cool, even though the air blowing in from her open window is warm.

Ever so carefully, she wipes salve on one palm and then the other, before digging around in my medical case for gauze and tape, both of which she cuts with a dagger she keeps on her bedside table.

She looks up at me as she secures the last of the tape, my larger hand in her two small ones. And when we make eye contact, it’s different, less combative.

Her cheeks tint pink, highlighting the handful of freckles that create a band across her nose.

“Thank you,” I say, and my voice comes out low, rough even.

Her scent drifts toward me and it reminds me of the first day of spring. Fresh-cut grass, a hint of floral, and a promise in the air. I instantly recognize it for what it is—attraction. More than that, I feel it low in my stomach like a tightening coil.

I suddenly know I shouldn’t stay.

Only when I get up, she puts out her hand.

“Wait,” she says, and just like before, I obey. “I know tonight is shot. Neither of us can do any magic and we won’t be at full capacity until morning, but we should do something. Research maybe? You could help me read some of these books.” She gestures to the pile on her bedside table.

“You want me to read with you?” I say a little shocked, mainly because she’s usually trying to get as far away from me as possible.

“I know you’ve read some of these before, but I just thought—” She stops and I can scent a hint of embarrassment.

“Yeah, no, I mean, I have,” I say, trying to catch up to the situation. “But I could use a refresher. Hand me one you haven’t read.”

I kick off my boots and sit down on her bed.

“Really?” she says, handing one over with the fresh spring scent that once again affects me.

“Actually, I think I’ll take this into the living room,” I say, needing a second to slow my pulse and regain my effing sense.

“What? Why?” she asks as I slide off the bed.

I just stare at her helplessly.

Her eyebrows push together like she’s trying to sort me out. “Does this have something to do with what you said to me in the training room?”

“What did I say to you in the training room?” I ask, tracing back our conversation.