Honey and Spice(24)

It unnerved me that there was nothing I could genuinely unpick. “How do you figure this?”

“The same way you know everything you talk about on the radio. We watch from the outside. We know how the game works. I don’t know you like that but I know enough to know that.”

I turned to him fully, folding my leg up beneath me and leaning my arm against the back of the sofa. Our knees knocked. Neither of us moved.

“Okay, Mystic Malakai. Let’s play a game. See how far your skills stretch. You down?”

“Hit me.”

“Zack and I are not a match. Obviously. In fact, if I focus too hard on his personality, I find myself actively repelled. Given these facts, why was I hooking up with him?”

Malakai rose a brow. “Is this meant to be challenging?”

My smile widened. “You’re kind of a dick, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Not a Wasteman, though.”

I rolled my eyes and swallowed my grin. “Answer the question.”

Malakai laughed and nodded. “Alright. You hooked up with him because you were disgusted by him. My guess is, you weren’t really looking for a relationship and you figured you might as well hook up with someone you have nothing in common with. No distractions. No risk of complication.”

I stilled.

As if reading my mind, as if detecting my discomfort, Malakai shook his head. “It’s not that you’re easy to read. Like I said, I noticed you. Wait, that sounded . . .” He faltered. “I meant, I know what to look for when I’m looking at you.”

I slid my head to the side and a smile tipped out. He paused again. Brought his knuckles to rest on the tip of his nose as he stared at me. “Fuck. I sound like a creep. Let me do that again.”

The insecurity broke into his voice, betraying a surprising softness that made me smile. “Hey. Don’t run away from your truth. Listen, if you want a lock of my hair, I’d appreciate it if you just asked instead of plucking it next time? It hurt when you did it while we were kissing.”

Malakai caught my grin and tilted his head like something had been revealed to him, “Oh wow. You’re a dick.”

I nodded and sipped my drink. “Ah, you noticed. So many guys judge me by my looks and not enough by the fact that I’m a huge arsehole.”

Malakai pressed a flat palm to his broad chest. “Not me. I see you. The real you. Angel face, demon heart.”

“Thanks for understanding me.”

We punctuated our conversation with deep, grave nods before both erupting into laughter. I found I had moved closer to him on the sofa, so my bent knee was almost on top of his. I was physically tipsy but I also felt like my soul had had three shots. I felt lighter, somehow more snug in my skin and though I knew I was on a mission to figure out what was drawing me to him so I could cut it off, whatever was drawing me in was addictive and delicious and impossible to find the root of. I kept stopping to savor it. I cleared my throat. “Since you’re all-knowing, you’re probably aware that this is going to be our last conversation.”

Malakai smiled. “I get it.”

He was consistently surprising. The lack of obvious ego bruising only stoked a reluctant curiosity in me. “Really?”

He hitched a shoulder like what he was about to say was the most factual, logical thing in the world. “You’re afraid that I’m not actually who you made me out to be. That you might actually like me.”

“Huh. You ever tried Pilates?”

“Every Wednesday morning just after I drop the kids at school. Why?”

I nodded. “Oh okay. Figures. I just feel like someone whose head is so far up their own arse would be flexible enough to be good at it.”

Malakai’s eyes sparked as he sipped his drink and shook his head. “You’re an assassin.”

“And yet here you are. Still breathing. Despite my best efforts.”

“Don’t take it personally. As we’ve previously established, I’m superhuman. Like you.”

I tried to restrain my smile at his sly callback to our first meeting, but it must have leaked out because eyes twinkling, he began gesticulating as if he was explaining a profound truth.

“Yeah, as you obviously know, in the old days we were known as gods—which, of course, was ridiculous—but now we’re known as what we really are: stupidly good-looking humans with special abilities.”

I huffed a laugh into my drink, creating ripples in the sweet-sour liquid. I brought my glass down. “Uh-huh. What are yours again?”

“Many, but they include the immunity to Kiki Banjo’s many attempts to kill me.”

I released a light snort. “How super can you be if you have to build a whole defense system for me?”

Malakai’s eyes flitted across me deliberately as he leaned back, assessing me. His voice dropped. “Oh, I’m very super, I’m Black Panther meets Sango. It’s just that your level of lethality is unique. I have to adjust to your power.”

I narrowed my eyes. I’d tried to remain contained, repressed, but somehow he was pulling me out of myself. “Do me a favor and let’s keep this whole superhuman thing between us, yeah? People find out and they start freaking out, treating you differently—”

Malakai nodded with understanding. “And it becomes this whole thing where they try to get you to form an intergalactic crime-fighting collective—”