Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(41)

“Yes! They are brave and fight bad guys, and tend to look very nice,” I said, fighting the blush that was rising to my cheeks.

“A woman after my own heart,” Ilyan said as he fell back into his chair. “Which one is your favorite? I’m a Superman fan, personally.”

“Iron Man.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Robert Downey, Junior fan, or is it the comic books you prefer.”

“Ugh. You don’t read comic books, do you?” Wyn grumbled, sounding disgusted, but a smile still managed to creep onto her face.

“No,” I said. Although Ryland had quite a collection, I had never touched them. “And, I don’t think it’s a Robert Downey, Junior thing. I think it’s just the fact that he takes something difficult and something that could destroy him, and makes it into something amazing.”

Ilyan looked at me with something akin to reverence, while Wyn stared me down with a knowing glance.

“It doesn’t have to define you, you know.”

I flushed at Wyn’s comment, looking from brother to sister in panic. She had promised she wouldn’t talk about the mark again. Luckily, Ilyan looked confused and had no idea what Wyn was referring to.

“Wyn,” I begged, my heart thudding, “please don’t.”

Wyn huffed and sat back on the couch.

“Do I even want to ask?” Ilyan said.

“No.” I buried my head in the sleeves of Ryland’s sweater. Thankfully, the doorbell rang and Ilyan left to get the Chinese food.

“Wyn,” I rounded on her the second Ilyan’s footsteps left the room, “please don’t bring this up. You promised.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said stubbornly, spinning her plastic bracelets.

“Kung pow beef, anyone?” Ilyan said, handing out white containers.

I opened my box of Mongolian Beef and dug in; it smelled and tasted so good.

Wyn kept switching from staring at me to eating her food. Ilyan looked between us before flipping on another movie. I laughed out loud when he turned on Iron Man 2. Ilyan winked at me before turning back to his food.

“Ugh, really, Ilyan? You’re going to make me sit through this?” Wyn whined.

“Well, we could talk, but you seemed quite content to be angry and stare off into space.”

Wyn glared at him and went back to her food.

“I apologize for my sister,” Ilyan began with an oddly regal air. “She can be quite stubborn at times.”

Wyn sighed deeper at him. I laughed at her; she seemed irritated by him, and that alone was quite entertaining.

“So, Ilyan. Where do you get your accent from?”

He raised an eyebrow at me in obvious confusion.

“Seeing as Wyn doesn’t have one... It’s just odd. That’s all.”

“Oh!” Ilyan chimed, realization dawning on his face. “I lived in Prague for quite a few years before our father died. I left so I could help raise my sister.” While he didn’t sound sad because of the situation, there was something else in his voice that made the entire thing sound practiced.

“Wow. Prague. That must have been amazing.”

Ilyan opened his mouth to respond, but Wyn’s sharp tongue cut him off. “Don’t let him fool you. It was all party-party, very little work.”

“Work?” I questioned. “You must be quite a bit older than Wyn to have lived and worked there.” I thought I had stated something obvious, but Wyn giggled like I had given a lead-in to some inside joke.

“Not really,” Wyn provided. “His mother still lives there. Our dad just got around a lot.”

“I was born in Prague in the 80s.”

“So, still too old for you,” Wyn taunted.

My head snapped to Ilyan who winked at me again.

“Oh! I didn’t mean it like that!” I said, embarrassment creeping into my face.

“Neither did I, Joclyn,” Ilyan said. “Don’t worry so much.”

I ducked back down to my Mongolian beef and tried to focus on the movie. Even though I had seen it a million times, it was still one of my favorites.

“You need to be nice to her, Ilyan; she’s my friend, and if you scare her away, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Fine, fine,” he said “Ne ?e by na tom zále?elo, stejně bude za chvíli bydlet s námi.” The words fell off his tongue like diamonds and pearls. I looked over at him, taken by the beautiful sound. It seemed familiar in my ears, even though I had no idea what language it was.

“Ilyan,” Wyn pleaded.

Ilyan stood before walking down the hall to the bathroom.

“What language was that?”

“Czech; it’s his home language.”

“It’s beautiful,” I sighed. “Do you understand it?”

“Enough to understand when he’s being rude,” Wyn said.

I smiled and went back to the movie, sad that my food was almost gone. I would have to ask where they got this from; it was delicious.

Ilyan returned a moment later, and I excused myself to the bathroom. The sun had gone down all the way now, and the first stars were beginning to twinkle from behind the frosted glass in the bathroom window. I sat down and grabbed the cell phone next to me without thinking. It wasn’t until I opened it that I realized it wasn’t mine.