Within These Wicked Walls(38)

I could barely keep a straight face, so focused on picking up my dropped silver—which wouldn’t be of any use now, with the edge nicked like that …

As if I cared about nicked silver. As if I wasn’t just trying to distract myself from my present predicament.

Tom adjusted his grip on the basket. “I’ll, uh, leave you two to sort it out,” he said, winking at me as he walked by.

I stood, waiting until Tom disappeared in a room down the hall before saying, “I hope you’re happy. Tom must think the worst of us.”

“I am happy,” Magnus said. “And I hope he does.”

I stormed up to him, and he winced as I grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him down to be more level with my gaze, although I still had to look up a little. “Why couldn’t you have just done what I asked and stood in front of me while I worked? Don’t you want to be cleansed?”

“Are you mad because I saved your life without your permission or because Tom thought we were being intima—Ow!” I’d shoved him away, his back colliding with the edge of the doorway. He scowled. “Why are you taking this out on me? There are plenty of rooms to cleanse, just pick another one.”

“You’re protecting the Librarian.”

“What?” He gaped, gripping his wild curls with both fists. “I’m protecting you, you incredible little snapping turtle.”

“Don’t call me a snapping turtle!”

“You’re snapping at me right now!”

I yelled out my frustration. “Just stay out of my way so I can work.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me for the past two days?” he asked, but I was already walking away. “Or are you just ashamed to admit you enjoyed kissing me?”

I halted, my face flaring red as I turned back to him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“To be fair, I do better when I’m prepared.”

“Good for you,” I said, unamused.

He let out a small laugh. “Just so you know, today I’m prepared.”

I gripped my fists and had to swallow to keep my voice even. “Don’t mock me, sir.”

“Never,” he said, and for once in this conversation he sounded completely levelheaded and sincere. He took out a handkerchief and wet it with his tongue, pressing it to my bloody temple. I would’ve forgotten about it; it barely throbbed. “And don’t call me ‘sir.’”

“Or you’ll replace me?” I’d meant to turn on my heel and leave him alone to pout. Instead I looked him in his brown eyes brimming with curiosity. “During my interview, that’s what you said. That you’d replace me with someone who would call you by your name.”

“I don’t remember that. I do, however, remember saying you’re irreplaceable. I wish you’d remember that instead, too, my little storm cloud.”

I sighed and looked away from him, pushing away his handkerchief. “I am not your ‘little’ anything.”

“Why not?”

I raised my eyebrows at him, feeling very much like Jember, despite our lack of shared blood. “What do you mean ‘why not’?”

“What’s keeping you from being mine?”

My hands trembled, and I hugged the silver to my stomach to make them stop. “Yours?”

“Yes, Andromeda. Be with me.”

“M-Magnus, I—” I looked to make sure Tom wasn’t in the hall, that he couldn’t see the way I blushed. “I can’t. I work for you.”

He let out a small breath and grinned. “Is that all?”

His relief constricted my lungs because I knew there was only one solution. “Please don’t fire me,” I said, and my voice sounded so small and tight to my own ringing ears.

His cold hands held my face, soothing my burning cheeks. “If I fired you, I’d probably never see you again. I want to see you every day of my life.”

“Magnus,” I groaned. I held his hands holding my cheeks, my vision blurring the slightest bit. “This isn’t as right as it feels. There’s a clear power imbalance.”

“I agree,” he said, leaning closer. “But I shall do my best to submit to your dominance with the grace of a gentleman.”

I laughed, but it was quickly stifled by the gentle press of his lips to my forehead. “I’m waiting for the ax to drop … I never get what I want so easily.”

“The ax, my dear,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as he ran his hands down my neck, over my shoulders. “Is that we will argue fiercely almost every day.”

“In that case, I’m having second thoughts.” I smirked at his frown, rising up on my toes, my lips a breath away from his. “You sound like a headache.”

His nose brushed my cheek as he tipped his head, and a thrill went through me. “It’s odd, everyone seems to sing my praises but you.”

“They’re lying.” The last of my voice was muted as his lips took mine.

This kiss wasn’t like the last one. It was certain and sweet … it felt like a promise. Not a promise of pain. A promise to look after my heart. To maybe—someday—even love me.

A promise to not throw me away.





CHAPTER 16