with fire, yet I countered, “Splinters only bother you if they get under your skin. When did I get under your skin?”
Remo’s nostrils flared, and for a moment, I actually feared death by damp-tunic-strangulation, but then I reminded myself that he’d saved me twice, so he only figuratively wanted to kill me.
After another long round of eyeball jousting, Remo stepped back, thankfully taking his intoxicating heat with him. “Get dressed. We should try to reach the portal before night falls.”
The sky was still blisteringly white, but he was right. We needed to get to the portal, and the sooner the better. My arms fell out of their knot, and I arrowed toward the door.
“Maybe the inn ghost left some ointment for your cuts in your bedroom.”
I froze on the threshold of his bedroom.
I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know he was smirking. I heard the lilt in his voice when he said, “Is the great Amara Wood afraid of ghosts?”
I steeled my spine. “Not the kind who bake pie.” And then I walked out of the room, desperately trying to believe this was true.
I was in fact so scared that before shutting my door, humming at the top of my lungs, I performed a thorough search of the bedroom, going so far as to check under the bed and inside the dresser drawers. Only when I was certain I was alone did I quiet down, close my bedroom door, then my bathroom door, and shrug off my robe. My suit was nowhere near dry, so I rolled it up inside my robe to transfer some of the water over.
Fat lot of good that did.
When I pulled my scaled jumpsuit on, stretching the material up my legs, it was still soaked.
Ugh. Squirming into clothes really sucked. Especially wet ones.
Just as I got the suit past my navel, the door to the bathroom flew open. Shrieking a little, I squashed my arms over my breasts and flipped around to face the ghost.
Not a ghost.
“What the hell, Remo?”
He leaned against the doorframe, twirling his pen between his long fingers. “I was checking Casper hadn’t killed you.”
If I weren’t such a prude, I would’ve pummeled his smug face with my fists. “Humming is usually a good indication of liveliness.”
“How was I to know you were humming and not the ghost?”
Insufferable faerie. “Can you get out?”
“You stayed while I got dressed.”
My blood simmered. “Well, I’d rather you didn’t stay.”
“Why?” His teeth flashed between his curved lips. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”
I glared at him, until what he was doing clicked. “I rattled you, so you’re trying to rattle me back.”
“Rattled me? Please, Trifecta. You did not rattle me.” Yet the vein beneath his birthmark throbbed.
Yep. I’d rattled him.
Well, I wouldn’t let him rattle me. I uncrossed my arms, giving him an eyeful of my not-very-spectacular-but-perfectly-adequate breasts, and went back to hoisting my suit up.
Color streaked over his cheekbones, and the pen tumbled out of his hand. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting me to partake in his twisted little game.
“Are you blushing, Remo? I thought the female anatomy held no more secrets for you.”
His face reddened some more, but in annoyance this time, and he jerked his gaze to his pen, crouching to pick it up. “And here I thought the princess of Neverra possessed a modicum of modesty, but you’re just like all the other girls in Neverra.” He latched onto his pen and squeezed it between his fingers, not looking up at me.
The barb cut deep, and I combed my hair forward with my fingers until it hid my nipples. Faeries weren’t particularly prudish. After all, Seelie women were accustomed to flying around in dresses, flashing ground-dwellers, and Daneelies, male and female, enjoyed skinny-dipping, not to mention selling your body was legal in certain taverns.
“I am nothing like the call girls you sleep with.” My voice didn’t waver but my pulse did. It beat erratically. I suddenly hated myself for having bared my breasts—breasts no one besides Giya, Nana Vee, and Nima had ever seen. “Now get out.”
He looked up, his gaze skipping right over my torso, and stood. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” I snapped.
“Manage to make me feel like the bad guy when I do nothing wrong.” He tapped his pen against his open palm.
“Nothing wrong? You barged into my bathroom!”
“To make sure you were safe.”
“You could’ve knocked and asked through the door.” I shivered from the wet hair plastered to my chest and the damp