Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(42)

The phone flicked to a text conversation. The name “Wynifred” covered the top of the screen above the thought bubbles of the conversation.



I think we are wrong about him

What do you mean?

Well, he says he wants nothing to do

with it, but it’s more than that. He uses

kouzlo on her all the time to calm

her, help her, keep her safe. What

I thought was her is really him; it’s

the residual that he leaves behind to

help her.

Are you sure?

100%

Hovno, tohle se Ovailia nebude líbit

Don’t swear.

Respect, Wynifred

Sorry, My Lord.



I looked at the last bit of conversation; it just didn’t make sense. My Lord? And who were they talking about? The whole thing was too much like something out of a Bourne movie. Besides, they didn’t seem the types to be involved in some sort of role-playing game. I reluctantly looked away from the screen at a soft knock on the door.

“Joclyn,” Ilyan spoke through the bathroom door, “I left my phone in there. Can you bring it out with you please?”

“Uh... yeah...” I answered, washing my hands before opening the door to see him standing against the door frame. His long, blonde hair hung straight and sleek around his face, his blue eyes sparkling. I was once again hit with the familiarity of them, like I had seen that exact color somewhere else.

“Everything go okay in there?” he asked, hand outstretched.

“Gross, Ilyan,” I chided and placed the phone in his hand.

“Thanks.” He flipped the phone open to look at the screen before turning back to me with a smirk.

A smirk like that would usually excite me and send my stomach swooping, but then again, a smirk like that was usually accompanied by Ryland. Coming from Ilyan, it made me curious; I felt like I needed to get to know him better. I shook the thought from my mind.

Ilyan crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to stare into me. I couldn’t help but notice how nice his pastel dress shirt fit against him. He had a nice frame and the fabric clung to him in the right places. I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks, so I ducked my head to look at my shoes, unsurprised to see Ilyan sporting another pair of ripped, designer jeans. He must like the style.

“Do I need to leave you and your shoes alone?” Ilyan asked with a deep chuckle.

“No, I’m fine,” I retorted, my head snapping up to meet his gaze.

“Well then, are you ready to go home? It’s almost ten and I don’t want you to get in trouble with your mom.” He continued to lean against the door frame, trapping me in the bathroom.

“Yeah, I guess I better.”

“Good, I’ll go get my car,” he said before jogging down the hall.

“Your brother is odd,” I announced as I sat down beside Wyn.

“He’s an idiot; don’t let him fool you.” She continued to bird peck at her food, not looking at me.

“Hey, Wyn,” I ventured. I hoped this didn’t give my spying away. “What does kouzlo mean?”

Her head snapped up in alarm, and her food almost slipped out of her hand. So much for being discreet.

“Where did you hear that word?”

I exhaled. Probably better to lie, even though Ilyan would give me away eventually.

“Just something Ilyan said to me in the hall.”

She watched me, and I recognized the same look in her that I often had myself when I was talking about my dad. She was deciding how much of the truth to tell me.

“It’s Czech,” she said. “It means charm.”

I guess that made sense. He was using his charm on her all the time; it fit anyway.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“What did he say to you?” Wyn asked, that same alarm lacing her voice.

“It’s nothing. It was just an odd word, so I was wondering what it meant…” That seemed to pacify her, so I left it at that. Still. I knew that face; it gave me the nagging sensation that she wasn’t being entirely truthful.

The sooner I got home and to a search engine, the better.





Thirteen


I had stayed up way too late last night trying to find the translation for “kouzlo” on the internet. The closest thing I found for a long time was “koza” which meant “goat”. Why someone would give someone a goat to protect them, I didn’t know. I finally found the translation I was looking for, and it did say that “kouzlo” meant “charm”, but I still felt like Wyn was keeping something from me. After all, why would she have that reaction to the word charm?

Due to my prolonged internet searching, I was nowhere near ready when my mom burst into my bedroom the next morning, fully dressed, breakfast in hand, ready for our full day of shopping. She set the breakfast down and danced out of the room, saying she would wait for me in the living room.

I ate my breakfast—Fruit Loops and toast—as I tried to wake up. I had finally gotten to sleep at three a.m., and now my mom had me up at ten. Seven hours should have been enough, but I still felt like I was dragging.

I set my breakfast on the kitchen counter across from the bathroom, as I made my way to a nice, warm shower. The hot water did the trick, and after a few minutes my body felt alive and energetic.