ever seen him laugh like this before, and while I’m pretty positive he’s laughing at me, I can’t help smiling a bit.
I brush snow from my cheeks. “That wasn’t supposed to be funny.”
“Oh, I know it wasn’t, but it was hilarious.”
My brow meticulously arches. “What? You being innocently cute?”
He continues to laugh. “Yep. And the absurdity in the statement.”
“I don’t know.” I decide to mess with him. “You seem sort of innocent to me, in a really cute way.”
His laughter fades and is replaced by an amused grin. “You know what’s innocently cute? You trying to get a rise out of me.”
“Aw, it’s cute you think I’m trying to do that and not just telling the truth.” I pat his cheek. “How very innocent of you.”
His eyes smolder as he leans in. “You know what I think?” he whispers lowly. “I think, in a way, you might get off watching me get all riled up.”
He’s right; I do. And I don’t even know why.
“Don’t worry. I get off on it, too.” He skims his fingers along the bottom of my chin. “And one of these days, you and I are going to lock ourselves in a room and play this whole thing out.”
Somehow, and I don’t even know how, my face heats, even in the frigid temperature.
“And there’s that innocent cuteness again.” His lips spread into a cocky grin. “I think I won this round.”
I glare at him, and he smirks. Shaking my head, I playfully shove him. He stumbles, but barely, then laughs. I move to shove him again, but he captures my arm and yanks me toward him until our bodies are flushed. Then he kisses me, a husky moan reverberating from his chest as he does. He keeps the kiss brief, pulling away quickly, but somehow, my pulse is soaring wildly from the brief connection.
Connected. I already feel so connected to all of them.
My thoughts travel to the curse and how no one has yet to explain to me how it’s supposed to be broken, and yet they all keep kissing me.
Are they worried it’s not broken yet?
“Hop on,” he changes the subject and yanks me from my thoughts, “before we freeze our assess off.” Then he turns his back toward me.
“You want me to climb onto your back?” I question, brushing the snow off the back of his coat.
“It’ll be better if I carry you on my back,” he explains, glancing over his shoulder at me. “That way, if I fall, you’ll land on me instead of falling into the snow. Plus, if I need to use my powers for anything, I’ll have my hands free.”
“Oh. Right. Good idea.” I reach forward to grab his shoulders.
“Wait,” he says, and I pause. “Before you get on, I want you to do something.”
“Okay … What?”
“I need you to reach into my pocket, take out the knife that’s in there, and put it in your pocket.”
“You want me to carry a weapon?” I ask, surprised.
“It’s just a precautionary measure,” he explains. “I’m sure you won’t have to use it, but I need to know that if something happens, you’ll have a way to protect yourself if you can’t channel your powers.”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” I try not to sound as clueless as I am about using a knife to … To what? Cut someone?
“Have you ever carried a weapon before?” he asks as I stick my hand into his pocket.
I shake my head as I retrieve the knife, which is in a leather sheath. I pull it out of that to see what the knife looks like. It’s actually a dagger with a thick, jagged, silver blade, and the handle is shaped like a batwing and encrusted with emeralds.
“No.” I gape at the blade. “This looks more like a dagger than a knife.”
“Technically, it is. I just thought saying knife might make it seem less scary.”
I stare at the very pointy tip of the blade, trying to imagine plunging it into a creature that attacks me. My stomach churns as I think about it.
Asher turns toward me, his gaze sweeping across my face. “I’m sure you won’t have to use it, but if you do, make sure to jab deep, okay?”
I give an uneven nod as I slip the dagger back into its sheath. “I’ll do my best.”
He offers me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry we have to have this conversation, but it needs to be had.”
“I know,” I tell him, understanding, as I slip the dagger into my pocket.