the corner of my right eye and flowed like metallic ribbons down the edge of my cheek, jaw, neck. I shivered at the cool mint that licked behind his touch.
His finger stopped at the pulse point at my throat, even though the marks of magic continued down my arm to my fingertips.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
I was. But not for food. “Yes.”
A rock hit my arm.
I twisted, my palms up, ready to cast a spell.
Zayvion was way ahead of me. One elbow braced beneath him, he rolled, putting me partially behind him, his right hand already outlining a glyph in the air, though he didn’t pour magic into it yet.
Another rock, a wet rock—no, an ice cube—hit my hip. More ice hit Zayvion’s shoulder, clattered down his chest to the mat in front of him. Ice rained down around us in handfuls.
Shamus Flynn stood at the door halfway across the room, a bucket of ice tucked between his arm and chest, and a grin on his face.
“Thank God I got here in time.” He tossed another volley our way. “You might have gone up in flames. Burst into sex at any minute.”
“Shame,” Zayvion warned. “Put the ice down.”
“Like hell. No need to thank me. It’s what friends are for.” He tossed another cube at Zayvion’s head. Zay didn’t even blink as it whizzed past his ear.
Boy had good aim.
Zay didn’t take his eyes off Shame, but he shifted so that we were no longer tangled.
“Do you remember what happened to you the last time you threw ice at me?” he asked calmly.
Shame shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“It had something to do with you not walking straight for a couple days.”
Shame grinned. “Oh, you mean what Chase did to me. That I remember. Girl’s got no sense of humor. And she kicks like a mule. Bad combination.”
“The bucket?” Zay held up his hand where he still held the glyph between ring finger and thumb. “Down.”
Shame pulled out a piece of ice and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed it—noisily—as he strolled over to us.
I swear he had a death wish.
Shame did a fair job at that goth-rocker vibe. Black hair cut with the precision of dull garden shears shaded his eyes. Black T-shirt over a black long-sleeved shirt on top of black jeans, black boots. Even his hands were covered by black fingerless gloves. But behind all that black was a man who wasn’t as young as he looked. A man whose eyes carried too much pain to be hidden by that sly smile.
“That was your last warning.” Zayvion tensed, ready to pour magic into the glyph.
“Do not burn your best friend to a crisp,” I said, sounding more like a babysitter than a girlfriend.
Zay just kept staring at Shame. “He’s won’t burn long. Not with all that water on him.”
Shame laughed. “Bring it on.”
“No one’s going to bring anything on.” I stood, and took turns glaring at Zayvion and Shamus. “No magic fights in the gym.”
Right. Like they’d do what I said.
Time to change tactics. “How about food? Zay and I were just going to do lunch,” I said.
“Lunch?” Shamus said. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Back in my day we called it fucking.”
“Shamus,” Zayvion said, “may I have a word with you?” Zay let go of the spell and stood up in one smooth, graceful motion that showed just how many years this man had spent sparring.
Shame didn’t have time to answer because Zay closed in on him, fast and silent as a panther. He wrapped his arm around Shame. It looked friendly enough, but both of Shame’s arms were pinned and Shame was tucked tight against Zay’s side.
“You want a word with me, or you want to date me?” Shame asked. “’Cause if it’s the second thing, you’re buying me more than lunch.”
Zayvion forced him toward the far side of the room.
I shook my head. Those two acted like brothers, even though they were physically about as opposite as they could get. I glanced at the door, wondering if Chase, Zay’s ex-girlfriend, might have come along with Shame. No one was there.
My shoulders dropped. Chase and I were not exactly friends, even though we’d had to work around each other the last couple months. She wasn’t done hating me for what happened to Greyson, the man she dumped Zay for. And I was more than done explaining to her that I hadn’t turned him into a half-dead beast.