Untamed (House of Night #4)(31)

With a surprised little gasp, I realized why the arrow in the center of the target looked so weirdly big. It wasn't just one arrow. It was a bunch of arrows that had hit one right over the top of each other. Every single arrow he'd shot had gone to the same center spot on the target. Utterly shocked, my eyes went back to Stark, who was still in his archer's stance. And I realized what hot-guy scale he should be on: the Bad Boy Hot Scale.

Ah, oh. Like I needed to think a bad boy was intriguing? Hell, I didn't need to think any kind of boy was intriguing right now. I'd sworn off guys. Totally. I was just starting to turn around so I could tiptoe out when his voice stopped me.

"I know you're there," Stark said without looking at me.

As if that had been her cue, Duchess got to her feet, yawned, and padded happily over to me, tail wagging while she gave me a doggie "hi" woof. Nala arched her back, but didn't spit or hiss, and she actually allowed the Lab to sniff her a little before the cat sneezed squarely in her face.

"Hi," I said to both of them while I ruffled Duchess's ears.

Stark turned to me. He was wearing his cocky almost-smile. I was beginning to understand that expression was probably his norm. I did notice he looked paler than he had at dinner. Being the new kid was hard, and it tended to wear on you--even if you were a hot bad boy.

"I was just going to the stables and I heard something in here. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

He shrugged and started to say something, and then had to stop and clear his throat, like he hadn't talked for a long time. He gave a hoarse little half cough and finally said, "No problem. Actually I'm glad you're here. Saves me from having to find you."

"Oh, do you need something for Duchess?"

"Nah, she's fine. I brought a bunch of her stuff with me. Actually I wanted to talk to you."

No. I was absolutely not insanely curious or flattered by his saying he wanted to talk to me. Very calmly and with total nonchalance, I said, "So, what do you want?"

Instead of answering, he asked me a question. "Do those special Marks of yours mean that you really have an affinity for all five of the elements?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to grit my teeth. I really hated to be questioned about my gifts by new kids. They tended to either hero-worship me or treat me like I was a bomb that might explode all over them at any instant. Either way it was majorly uncomfortable and definitely not flattering or intriguing.

"There was a priestess at my old House of Night in Chicago who had an affinity for fire. She could actually make things burn. Can you use the five elements like that?"

"I can't make water burn or anything bizarre like that." I avoided answering him directly.

He frowned and shook his head, wiping his hand across his brow again. I tried not to notice that he was kinda sexily sweating. "I'm not asking if you can twist the elements. I just need to know if you're powerful enough to control them." That jerked my attention from his cuteness. "Okay, look. I know you're new, but that's really not your business."

"Which means you must be pretty powerful."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Again, not your business. If you need me for something that is your business, like asking me about dog supplies, come find me. Other than that, I'm out of here."

"Wait." He took a step toward me. "It sounds like I'm being a smart-ass, but I have a good reason for asking you about this."

He'd lost his sarcastic semi-smile, and the look he was giving me wasn't an obsessive let's-see-how-weird-Zoey-really-is expression. He looked like a cute, pale new kid who seriously needed to know something.

"Fine. Yes. I'm pretty powerful."

"And you can really control the elements. Like if something bad happened, you could get them to protect you or the people you care about?"

"Okay, that's it," I said. "Are you threatening me and my friends?"

"Oh, shit no!" he said quickly, holding up one of his hands, palm out, like he was surrendering. Of course, it was hard not to notice that in his other hand, he still held the bow he'd been thunking arrows straight into the bull's-eye with. He saw my eyes glance at the bow and slowly he bent to set it on the ground at his feet. "I'm not threatening anyone. I'm just bad at explaining. Here's the deal--I want you to know about my gift."

He said the word gift so uncomfortably that I raised my brows and repeated it. "Gift?"

"That's what it's called, or at least that's what other people call it. It's why I'm so good with that." He jerked his chin toward the bow lying at his feet.

I didn't say anything, but raised my brows at him as I waited (impatiently) for him to continue.

"My gift is I can't miss," he finally said.

"You can't miss? So what? Why would that have anything to do with me or my affinity with the elements?"

He shook his head again. "You don't get it. I always hit my target, but that doesn't mean my target is always what I aim at."

"You're not making any sense, Stark."

"I know, I know. I told you I'm no good at this." He ran his hand backwards through his hair, which made it puff up like a duck's tail. "The best way I can say this is to give you an example. Have you ever heard of the vampyre William Chidsey?"