Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races #3)(38)

Then he moved, to do what, she didn’t know, but she propelled herself forward, because she couldn’t stand it if he touched her right then with another one of his affectionate gestures. One of these days she thought he might touch her one too many times, and she would shatter like a piece of overstrained porcelain. “You have reading to do,” she said shortly. “And I have a mess to clean up.”

She walked fast down the sun-filled path to her work cottage, stood in the open doorway, and took stock of last night’s work. The air was tinged with a hint of soot and the lingering echo of dark magic, but the sun and the wind would help to take care of that. Herbs, empty pitchers, and her jar of sea salt littered the work table, and the fireplace was full of soggy ash. The circle of sea salt she had cast still lay strewn on the floor, its former pure white turned dingy.

She had better start with the salt or she would track it all through the cottage. She went to the closet and pulled out a broom. Rune’s hot sunlike presence filled the open doorway. She gritted her teeth and gripped the broom handle hard. One wrong word or move from him and, swear to gods, she was going to smack him over the head with the broom.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, his tone mild. “Do you mind if I read in here?”

She struggled with herself then said, “Not as long as you’re quiet.”

“I promise,” he said gently. “I’ll be as good as gold.”

His voice seemed to brush along her skin in a featherlight caress. She bristled against the sensation and said, “Shut up.”

He laughed, a quiet husky chuckle that filled all the cold, dark corners of the room with warmth and sounded like it belonged between silken sheets. She gave him a glare and then attacked the floor with the broom.

He was as good as his word. If he hadn’t been, she really would have smacked him. He pulled one of the armchairs over to the open doorway and the morning sun. Then he settled himself, one ankle propped on the jeans-covered knee of his other leg, and he opened her journal. She glanced at him. His tousled hair was crowned in bright gold, his lean spare face turning still with concentration.

Her greedy soul drank down the sight. Then she forced herself to turn away. She set to work, and gradually, as she cleaned and Rune read, a fragile calm stole into the cottage and into her mind. When she finally had the room spotless and all her supplies put away, she set several branches of dried white sage in the empty fireplace. The sage would dispel any lingering darkness that might cling to the stones.

As the morning evaporated into afternoon, the edges of her vision began to flicker with the telltale sign that her Power was building again, and she knew she was headed into another fade soon. She would not accept the feelings that tightened her stomach and dried out her mouth. She refused to feel trapped, and she would not let fear rule her. With Rune present, they had an opportunity to learn more together than she had been able to in the last two centuries combined.

The best thing to do was to keep busy until it happened. She went into her office to frown at the empty cabinet where she had stored the books of black magic.

She sucked on her lower lip as she regarded it. It was a fine, well-constructed cabinet built of cedar. She had carved the surface herself with spells of protection and binding. The work had taken days, and she hated the thought of destroying it. But the books had been stored in the cabinet for too long. She could feel their lingering malice. It had soaked into the wood.

Reluctantly she came to the only conclusion she could. She could try to purify the cabinet, but that would be time-consuming and she was never going to trust storing delicate things in it. In the end, there was only one way to be absolutely sure all of the dark energies were well and truly dissipated. The cabinet would have to be destroyed as well.

She heaved a sigh, retrieved a hammer and screwdriver from the small toolbox in the office closet, and began to dismantle the cabinet by striking at the joints.

Rune appeared soon after the first hammer blow. She had grown so sensitized to his energy, she knew without bothering to look the moment he stepped into the room.

“So that’s what the mess in the other room was about,” he said. “You decided to get rid of the misbehaving books.”

“It was past time.”

He sent her a thoughtful glance but refrained from commenting. Instead, he said, “I take it the cabinet is contaminated.”

“Yes. It’s best to be on the safe side and burn it.” She positioned the tip of the screwdriver at the juncture of a panel, struck it with the hammer, and levered the pieces of wood apart. They came apart with a sharp crack.

He came up beside her, standing too close. He asked, “May I help?”

How like a male. Pull out some tools and start banging on something, and they flocked in from miles around. She pushed her hair out of her face with the back of one hand and scowled at him. “I am perfectly capable of breaking it down myself.”

“Of course you are,” he told her, smiling. “That’s not what I said. I said may I help?”

She shrugged irritably and stepped back. Rune studied the cabinet for a moment then grasped the sides. She said, “I could tear it apart with my bare hands too if I wanted, hotshot, but I don’t want my office walls scratched.”

“Have some faith,” Rune said.

“Fine.” She threw up her hands. The fragile calm she had achieved blew into tatters. She wanted the broom again. She might still smack him before the day got much older. “If you scratch my walls, you’re going to repaint the office yourself.”