thickly sensual interest, daring me to come after her. She would have looked like the patron goddess of corrupted youth.
Instead, she stood there, uncertain and frightened and too naive (or maybe honest) to be anything but totally sincere—and vulnerable. She was afraid, uncertain, the lost princess helpless in a dark wood.
It was worse than if she’d vamped onto me like a trained courtesan. What I saw in her was honest and hopeful, trusting and terrified. She was real, and fragile and precious. My emotions got together with my glands and they ganged up on me, screaming that she needed acceptance and that the kindest thing I could possibly do would be to give her a hug and tell her everything was going to be all right—and that if something followed, who would blame me?
I would. So I just watched her with a straight face.
“I want to learn from you,” she said. “I want to do everything I can to help you. To thank you. I want you to teach me things.”
“What things?” I asked in a quiet, measured tone.
She licked her lips. “Everything. Show me everything.”
“Are you sure?” I asked her.
She nodded, her eyes huge, pupils dilated until only a bare ring of blue remained around them.
“Teach me,” she whispered.
I touched her face with the fingers of my right hand. “Kneel down,” I told her. “Close your eyes.”
Trembling, she did, her breathing becoming faster, more excited.
But that stopped once I picked up the pitcher of ice water from the mantel and dumped it over her head.
She let out a squeal and fell over backward. It took her maybe ten seconds to recover from the shock of the cold, and by then she was gasping and shivering, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion—and with some kind of deep, heavy pain.
I faced her and squatted down onto my haunches to meet her eyes. “Lesson one. This isn’t going to happen, Molly,” I said in exactly the same calm, gentle voice. “Get that through your head right now. It isn’t ever going to happen.”
Her lower lip trembled, and she bowed her head, shoulders shaking.
I gave myself a mental kick in the head and snagged a blanket from the couch. I went to her and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Get over by the fire and warm up.”
It took her a moment to collect herself, but she did. She hunched her shoulders beneath the blanket, shivering and humiliated. “You knew,” she said in a shaking voice. “That I would… do this.”
“I was pretty sure,” I agreed.
“Because of the soulgaze,” she said.
“Nothing to do with that, really,” I replied. “I figured there had to be a reason that you didn’t come to me for help when you came into your powers. I figure you’ve been interested in me for a while. That you wouldn’t want to come up to your favorite rock star and start fumbling around on a guitar so that the first thing he thinks about you is that you’re incompetent.”
She shivered and blushed even more. “No. It wasn’t like that…”
Sure it was. But I’d hammered her hard enough for the time being. “If you say so,” I answered. “Molly, you may fight with your mom like cats and dogs, but the two of you are more alike than you know.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s trite but true that a lot of young women look for a man who reminds them of their dad. Your dad fights monsters. I fight monsters. Your dad rescued your mom from a dragon. I rescued you from Arctis Tor. Seeing the pattern here?”
She opened her mouth and then frowned at the fire—not an angry frown. A pensive one.
“Plus, you’ve just been scared real good. You don’t have any place to stay. And I’m the guy who is trying to help you.” I shook my head. “But even if there wasn’t magic involved, it still wouldn’t happen. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. But I’m never going to take advantage of your trust.
“What we’re going to have is not a relationship of equals. I teach. You learn. I tell you to do something, you damned well do it.”
A touch of sullen teenager-ness gleamed in her eyes.
“Don’t even think it,” I said. “Molly, getting pierced and dyed and tattooed just because you want to break the rules is one thing. But what we’re dealing with now isn’t the same thing. A botched dye job affects you. You botch the use of magic and someone—maybe a lot of someones—gets